FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE  LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Pection       ^Yl^ 


1 


THE 


L  E  T  T  E  11  S 


OF    THE 


REV.  JOHN    NEWTOI. 


LATE  PASTOR  OF  THE  UNITED  PARISHES  OF  ST.  MARY  WOOLNOTH  AND  ST.  MARY  WOOL- 
CIIURCII  HAW,  LOMBARD  STREET,  LONDON. 


CONTAINING, 


AN    AUTHENTIC     NARRATIVE,     &C.,     LETTERS     ON     RELIGIOUS    SUBJECTS,     ORIGINALLY    PUB- 
LISHED   UNDER    THE    SIGNATURES    OF    "  OMICRON"    AND    "  VIGIL,"    AND 
CARDIPHONIA,    OR   THE    UTTERANCE    OF    THE    HEART. 


TO  WHICH  ARE  PREFIXED, 

MEMOIRS   OF   HIS  LIFE,   &c 

BY  THE  REV.  RICHARD  CECIL,  A.M. 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


N  E  W  -  Y  O  R  K  : 


ROBERT  CARTER,  58  CANAL-STREET. 
PITTSBURG  :— 56  MARKET-STREET. 

1845.   , 


I 


CONTENTS. 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEW- 
TON. 

Pa^c. 


Prt'fjiCK 

MfiniiiriJ,  &.c 

Rtvifw  nl  his  chnmcter     . 
Kt'rnurks  in  fiiiiiiliar  c*tnvcrsntii)n 
tiuiieral  Ubs»'i  vulions 


AN  AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE,  &c. 

LET.  I— Introdurtory  Observations         .        .        .80 
II.— Occuinn"  «s  in  tally  Life  .         .         .HI 

III.— Juii.ncy  lo  Krnt.  viNajK;  to  Venice,  &c.        £3 
IV.— Vnyatie  n>    Madiira,    Kniiy   on    lioaid  a 

Giiineania,  ,  a  d  voyage  to  Africa  .  H7 
v.— Flanlslii|»si  ei.dured  in  Aliica  .  .  .  H;t 
VI  -  Enl.irgfiiieni  in  .Afiica       .         .  .92 

VII.— VoAH^e  irniu  Cape   Lopez  to    England, 

&c 94 

VIIL— Dan;;er,  &c.,  in  the  Voyage  from  Cape 

Lupez     ...  9rt 

IX  —  F.venis  in  Ireland,  and  arrival  in  England    98 

X -Voyagelo  Af.i' a lOU 

XI.— Voyage  to   Antigua,   Return   to  England, 

and  Marriage ]fl2 

XII.— Another  Vi.> age  to  Afiica  .  .  .  1(<5 
XllI— l.a  I  Voyage  to  Afii.  a.  &c.  .  .  .  107 
XiV.— Conclusion  of  the  iN'arraiive      .        .        .109 


LETTERS  ON  RELIGIOUS  SUBJECTS. 


LET.  I.— On  Trust  in  God 

II.— To  a  Sludfiit  of  I-ivinity 
III.— On 'Z  Cor.  v    Id,  and  R..m.  xiv 
IV.— On  Family  wmsliip   . 
v.— Oil  the  ditiic. lilies  atten<ling  thi 
VI.— On  the  Intiuenci'  of  i'j.iili  . 
Vll.— On  a  Miuisteiul    Address  U>  th 

veited     . 
VIII.— On  the  Inward  Witn.ss     . 
IX. — On  Kit-eiion  ai\d  I'.-rsi  verance 
X.— On  Grac  \n  tlx-  Bhide 
XI.— On  G. a  e  n  ih.-  Ear 
XII —On  Grace  ui  ilu-  Full  Com 
XllI— On  Hi  aring  S'liiKins 
XiV  -O.i  Temptation    .         .         . 
XV.— .A  ri.in   of  a  Christian  Librari- 
XVI.— On  thi-lneffica  \  of  Knowhdge 
XVII. -O.i  a  lleii.-v.  r's  Frames 
XVliI.~Oa  Social  Prayer. 


lJ-2 

114 

12    . 

116 

l;H 

Ministry 

I'iO 

i<  Uncon 

124 

127 

• 

129 

134 

i;iii 

. 

138 

ni 

14ti 

147 

N9 

152 

Page. 

XIX.— On  (^ontrover.'iv 154 

XX.— On  ('oii(oriii;iy  10  the  World        .         .  I5<) 

XXI.     On  Spiiiliial   Mliniln»-«3  .         .         .158 

XXII. -On  a  ,<t  . I.   of  Polity     .         .         .         .  KiO 

XXIII. -On  Siinpli.  iiy    nd  Sincerity  .         .   I(i3 

XXIV  -On  CninniUnioil  Willi  (Jed      .  .  .11)5 

XXV.— On     F;iith,    iJid    the    Communion    of 

Saints 168 

XXVI —On  Gospel  Illiiminaiion  .  .  I'.O 

XXVII.— On  Ui  tun  with  (hrisi    ....     iii. 
XXVIII.— On  the  Ui\i:,e  Guidance         .         .         .171 
XXIX.— On  Uoin.  viii.  19.  20.  21.  .  .I7H 

XXX  -On  Ih."  Kighi  I'.m'  of  ihe  Law  .  176 

XXXI.— On  LoM  to  the  IJrelhnn        .        .        .179 

XXXII.-On  Candour |H0 

XXXIII.— (1.)  On  .M.m  'n  his  Fallen  Estate  .  .  183 
XXXIV.— (2.)  On  Man  in  his  Falhn  E>tate  .   IHi 

XXXV.-t)n  Phil.  IV.  8 IH8 

XXXVI.— To  a  Friend  <n  his  R.  cnvery  fiom  Illness  190 
XXXVII —On  Ci.ris.ian  Expiiience  .  .  .191 
XXXVlll.— On   Ueliuion  tis  bring  nt  ces.>-ary  to  the 

Enjoyment  of  Lite      ....  194 

XXXIX.-A  Won!  in  r?.'a.-...n         .         .         .         .196 

XL.-ToFrof.ss..is  in  Tiade  .         .         .         .198 

XLL— On  the  .Mini^liy  of  Angels     .         .         .199 


CARDIPHONIA. 


Twenty  six  Li  tiers  to  a  Nnbhinan 

highi  Leli«isio  the  Htv.  .Mr.  S 

Eleven  Lettiis  10  Mr   B ,  &c. 

F.air  Leiieis  to  the  K.  v.  Mr.  R 

A  Letter  t..  Ihe  Rev.  >.r.  O 

Seven  Letteis  .0  the  hev   Mr.  P 

Three  Letters  to  ,\,rs.  G 

Two  Letters  to  Ml^s  1- 

Four  Letti  IS  to  the  Rev.  Dr. 

Seven  Lellers  to  .Mrs   

F.iii  Leiieis...  Mis.  T 

Five  LiMieis  to  Mr.  . 

Eight  Letters  to  me  Rev.  Mr. 

F..iir  L.-uers  t.i  Mrs   P 

S.x  L'tl.fsioilii-  R,.v.  M.  15 

\,ne  L  ttirs  to  il  e  Ri  v.. Mr.  R 

Tliree  Liuieis  to  Miss  Th . 

Seven  Lei  ers  to 

F.ve  Letiers  to  Mr    C 

Kiutii  Letters  to  Mrs. 

Five  Leil.  rs  to  M  ss  I  

Three  Lelleis  to  Ms    II 

Tvxti  Letiers  to  Mis.- P 

Fourteen  Lelte.s  to  llie  Rev.  Mr.  B- 


202 
243 
2«i3 
272 
2,6 
278 
284 
289 
291 
294 
304 
3(i!> 
3  5 
3.'2 
•.HI 

3:13 
:{40 

343 
347 
W^-Z 
31.3 
.3.8 
3-,l 
373 


MEMOIRS 


OF 


THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 


PREFACE. 


The  Memoirs  of  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  William  Bromley  Cadogan, 
and  those  of  John  Bacon,  Esq.  were  written  at  the  particular  re- 
quest of  their  relations.  But  in  publishing  these  of  the  late  Rev. 
John  Newton,  I  profess  myself  a  volunteer ;  and  my  motives  were 
the  following : — When  I  perceived  my  venerable  friend  bending  un- 
der a  weight  of  years,  and  considered  how  soon,  from  the  very 
course  of  nature,  the  world  must  lose  so  valuable  an  instructor  and 
example ;  when  I  reflected  how  common  it  is  for  hasty  and  inaccu- 
rate accounts  of  extraordinary  characters  to  be  obtruded  on  the  pub- 
lic by  venal  writers,  whenever  more  authentic  documents  are  want- 
ing ;  above  all,  when  I  considered  how  striking  a  display  such  a 
life  affords  of  the  nature  of  true  religion,  of  the  power  of  divine 
grace,  of  the  mysterious  but  all-wise  course  of  divine  providence, 
and  of  the  encouragement  afforded  for  our  dependence  upon  that 
providence  in  the  most  trying  circumstances ;  I  say,  on  these  ac- 
counts I  felt,  that  the  leading  features  of  such  a  character  should  not 
be  neglected,  whilst  it  was  easy  to  authenticate  them  correctly. 

Besides  which,  I  have  observed  a  want  of  books  of  a  certain  class 
for  young  people ;  and  have  often  been  inquired  of  by  Christian  pa- 
rents for  publications  that  might  amuse  their  families,  and  yet  tend 
to  promote  their  best  interests.  The  number,  however,  of  this  kind 
which  I  have  seen,  and  that  appeared  unexceptionable,  is  but  small : 
For,  as  the  characters  and  sentiments  of  some  men  become  moral 
blights  in  society,  men  whose  mouths  seldom  open  but,  like  that  of 

sepulchres,  they  discover  the  putridity  they  contain,  and  infect  more 

6 


vi  PREFACE. 

or  less  whoever  ventures  within  their  baneful  influence ;  so  the  re- 
formed subject  of  these  JNIemoirs  was  happily  a  remarkable  instance 
of  the  reverse.  The  change  that  took  place  in  his  heart,  after  such  a 
course  of  profligacy,  affords  a  convincing  demonstration  of  the  truth 
and  force  of  Christianity.  Instead  of  proceeding  as  a  blight  in  society, 
he  became  a  blessing ;  his  future  course  was  a  striking  example  of 
the  beneficial  effects  of  the  Gospel ;  and  that,  not  only  from  the  pul- 
pit and  by  his  pen,  but  also  by  his  conversation  in  the  large  circle 
of  his  acquaintance,  of  which  there  is,  yet  living,  a  multitude  of 
witnesses. 

Impressed,  therefore,  with  the  advantages  which  I  conceived 
would  result  from  the  publication  of  these  Memoirs,  I  communicated 
my  design  some  years  ago  to  Mr.  N.  Whatever  tended  to  promote 
that  cause  in  which  his  heart  had  been  long  engaged,  I  was  sure 
would  not  fail  to  obtain  his  concurrence.  He  accordingly  promised 
to  afford  whatever  materials  might  be  necessary,  beyond  those 
which  his  printed  Narrative  contained.  He  promised  also  to  read 
over  and  revise  whatever  was  added  from  my  own  observation ;  and 
he  soon  after  brought  me  an  Account  in  writing,  containing  every 
thino-  memorable  which  he  recollected  before  the  commencement  of 
his  Narrative.  I  shall,  therefore,  detain  the  reader  no  longer  than 
to  assure  him,  that  the  whole  of  the  following  Memoirs  (except 
what  relates  to  Mr.  N.'s  character)  was  submitted  to  him  in  MS* 
while  he  was  capable  of  correcting  it,  and  received  his  sanction. 


MEMOIRS, 


TuEs^  Memoirs  seem  naturally  to  commence  with  the  Account  mentioned  in 
the  Preface,  and  which  I  here  transcribe  ; — 

"  I  was  born  in  London,  the  '^Itli  July,  17'25,  old  style.  My  parents,  though 
not  wealthy,  were  respectable.  My  father  was  many  years  master  of  a  ship  in 
the  Mediterranean  trade.  In  the  year  ITI.S  he  went  Governor  of  Vork  Fort,  iu 
Hudson's  Bay,  where  he  died  in  the  year  I750. 

"  My  mother  was  a  Dissenter,  a  pious  woman,  and  a  member  of  the  late  Dr. 
Jenninoj's  church.  She  was  of  a  weak,  consumptive  habit,  and  loved  retirement; 
and  as  I  was  her  only  child,  she  made  it  the  chief  business  and  pleasure  of  her 
life  to  instruct  me,  and  brino;  me  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  I 
have  been  told,  that  from  my  birth  she  had,  in  her  mind,  devoted  me  to  the  minis- 
try ;  and  that,  had  she  lived  till  I  was  of  a  proper  age,  I  was  to  havt  been  sent 
to  St.  Andrews,  in  Scotland,  to  be  educated.  But  the  Lord  had  appointed  other- 
wise.    My  mother  died  before  I  was  seven  years  of  age. 

"  I  was  rather  of  a  sedentary  turn,  not  active  and  playful,  as  boys  commonly  are, 
but  seemed  as  willing  to  learn  as  my  mother  was  to  teach  me.  I  had  some  ca- 
pacity, and  a  retentive  memory.  When  I  was  four  years  old,  I  could  read  (hard 
names  excepted)  as  well  as  I  can  now  ;  and  could  likewise  repeat  the  answers  to 
the  questions  in  the  Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism,  with  the  proofs;  and  all  Dr. 
VVatts's  smaller  Catechisms,  and  his  Children's  Hymns. 

"  When  my  father  returned  from  sea,  after  my  mother's  death,  he  married 
again.  My  new  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  substantial  grazier  at  Aveley  in 
Essex.  She  seemed  willing  to  adopt  and  bring  me  up;  but,  after  two  or  three 
years,  she  had  a  son  of  her  own,  who  engrossed  the  old  gentleman's  notice.  My 
father  was  a  very  sensible  and  a  moral  man,  as  the  world  rates  nwrality,  but 
neither  he  nor  my  step-mother  were  under  the  impressions  of  religion;  I  was, 
therefore,  much  left  to  myself,  to  mingle  with  idle  and  wicked  boys,  and  soon 
learnt  their  ways. 

"  1  never  was  at  school  hut  about  two  years  (from  my  eighth  to  my  tenth  year :) 
it  was  a  boarding-school  at  Stratford  in  Essex.  Though  my  father  left  me  much 
to  run  about  the  streets,  yet,  when  under  his  eye,  he  kept  me  at  a  great  distance. 
I  am  persuaded  he  loved  me,  but  he  seemed  not  willing  that  I  should  know  it. 
I  was  with  him  in  a  state  of  fear  and  bondage.  His  sternness,  together  with  the 
severity  of  my  schoolmaster,  broke  and  overawed  my  spirit,  and  almost  made  me 
a  dolt ;  so  that  part  of  the  two  years  I  was  at  school,  instead  of  making  progress, 
I  nearly  forgot  all  my  good  mother  had  taught  me. 

"  The  day  I  was  eleven  years  old,  I  went  on  board  my  father's  ship  in  Long- 
reach.  I  made  five  voyages  with  him  to  the  Mediterranean.  In  the  course  of 
the  last  voyage,  he  left  me  some  months  at  Alicant  in  Spain,  with  a  merchant,  a 
particular  friend  of  his,  with  whom  I  might  have  done  well,  if  I  had  behaved 
well.  But  by  this  time  my  sinful  propensities  had  gathered  strength  by  habit: 
I  was  very  wicked,  and  therefore  very  foolish;  and,  being  my  own  enemy,  I 
seemed  determined  that  nobody  should  be  my  friend. 

"  My  father  left  the  sea  in  the  year  1742.     I  made  one  voyage  afterwards  to 

7 


8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTOM. 

Venice  before  the  mast ;  and  soon  after  my  return,  was  impressed  on  board  the 
Harwich.  Then  began  my  awfully  mad  career,  as  recorded  in  the  Narrative  ;  to 
which,  and  to  the  Letters  to  a  wife,  I  must  refer  you  for  any  farther  dates  and 

incidents. 1  am  truly  yours, 

"  JOHN  NEWTON. 
"Dec.  19,  1795." 

A  few  articles  may  be  added  to  this  account  from  the  Narrative,  where  we 
find,  that  his  pious  mother  "  stored  his  memory  with  whole  chapters,  and  smaller 
portions  of  Scripture,  catechisms,  hymns,  and  poems ;  and  often  commended  him 
with  prayers  and  tears  to  God  :"  also,  that  in  his  sixth  year  he  began  to  learn 
Latin,  though  the  intended  plan  of  his  education  was  soon  broken ;  and  that  he 
lost  this  valuable  parent,  July  J],  17'32. 

We  also  find,  that,  after  his  father's  second  marriage,  he  was  sent  to  the  school 
above  mentioned ;  and  in  the  last  of  the  two  years  he  spent  there,  a  new  usher 
came,  who,  observing  and  suiting  his  temper,  he  prosecuted  Latin  with  great 
eagerness,  and  before  he  was  ten  years  old  he  had  reached  and  maintained  the 
first  post  in  the  second  class,  which,  in  that  school,  was  Tully  and  Virgil.  But 
by  being  pushed  forward  too  fast,  and  not  properly  grounded  (a  method  too  com- 
mon in  inferior  schools,)  he  soon  lost  all  he  had  learned. 

In  the  next  and  most  remarkable  period  of  Mr.  N.'s  life,  we  must  be  conducted 
by  the  Narrative  above  mentioned.  It  has  been  observed,  that  at  eleven  years 
of  age  he  was  taken  by  his  father  to  sea.  His  father  was  a  man  of  remarkably 
good  "sense,  and  great  knowledge  of  the  world;  he  took  much  care  of  his  son's 
morals,  but  could  not  supply  a  mother's  part.  The  father  had  been  educated  at  a 
Jesuits'  college,  near  Seville  in  Spain,  and  had  an  air  of  such  distance  and 
severity  in  his  carriage  as  discouraged  his  son,  who  always  was  in  fear  when 
before  him,  and  which  deprived  him  of  that  influence  he  might  otherwise  have 
had. 

From  this  time  to  the  year  1742,  Mr.  N.  made  several  voyages,  but  at  consi- 
derable intervals:  these  intervals  were  chiefly  spent  in  the  country,  excepting  a 
few  months  in  his  fifteenth  year,  when  he  was  placed,  with  a  very  advantageous 
prospect,  at  Alicant,  already  mentioned.' 

About  this  period  of  his  life,  with  a  temper  and  conduct  exceedingly  various, 
he  was  often  disturbed  with  religious  convictions ;  and  being  from  a  child  fond 
of  reading,  he  met  with  Bennet's  "Christian  Oratory:"  and  though  he  under- 
stood little  of  it,  the  course  of  life  it  recommended,  appeared  very  desirable.  He 
therefore  began  to  pray,  to  read  the  Scriptures,  to  keep  a  diary,  and  thought  him- 
self religious ;  but  soon  became  weary  of  it,  and  gave  it  up.  He  then  learned  to 
curse  and  to  blaspheme,  and  was  exceedingly  wicked  when  out  of  the  view  of  his 
parents,  though  at  so  early  a  period. 

Upon  his  being  thrown  from  a  horse  near  a  dangerous  hedge-row,  newly  cut, 
his  conscience  suggested  to  him  the  dreadful  consequences  of  appearing  in  such  a 
state  before  God.  This  put  him,  though  but  for  a  time,  upon  breaking  off"  his 
profane  practices ;  but  the  consequence  of  these  struggles  between  sin  and  con- 
science was,  that  on  every  relapse  he  sunk  into  still  greater  depths  of  wickedness. 
He  was  roused  again  by  the  loss  of  a  companion,  who  hnd  agreed  to  go  with  him 
one  Sunday  on  board  a  man-of-war.  Mr.  N.  providentially  coming  too  late,  the 
boat  had  gone  without  him,  and  was  overset,  by  which  his  companion  and  several 
others  were  drowned.  He  was  exceedingly  affected  at  the  funeral  of  this  com- 
panion, to  think,  that  by  the  delay  of  a  few  minutes  (which  at  the  time  occa- 
sioned much  anger)  his  life  had  been  preserved  :  but  this  also  was  soon  forgotten. 
The  perusal  of  the  ''  Family  Instructor"  produced  another  temporary  reforma- 
tion. In  short,  he  took  up  and  laid  aside  a  religious  profession  three  or  four  dif- 
ferent times  before  he  was  sixteen  years  of  age. 

"  All  this  while,"  says  he,  "  my  heart  was  insincere;  I  often  saw  the  necessity 
of  religion,  as  a  means  of  escaping  hell,  but  I  loved  sin,  and  was  unwilling  to  for 


MEMOIRS  OF  TIIK  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON.  9 

Bake  it.  I  wan  so  strani^cly  Miiul  and  stupid,  that  sonirtimrs,  ulirn  I  have  h«rn 
determined  upon  things  which  I  kiuw  wrre  sinful,  I  couhl  not  ^o  on  (jui«tl>  till  I 
h«d  lirst  despatrlu'd  my  ordinary  task  of  prayer,  in  which  I  have  ^rudj^ed  every 
moment  of  the  time;  when  this  was  finisju'd,  my  conscience  was  in  some  measure 
paeitied,  and  1  could  rush  into  folly  with  little  remorse." 

Hut  his  last  reform  was  the  most  remarkahit'.  "Of  this  period,"  says  he,  "  at 
least  of  some  j)art  of  it,  I  may  say  in  the  a|)ostle's  words,  '  After  the  strictest  sect 
of  our  reli|j;ion,  I  lived  a  Pharisee.'  I  did  every  thinj;  that  mi^ht  be  expected 
from  a  person  entirely  ij:jnorant  of  (Jod's  rip;hteousness,  and  desirous  to  establish 
his  own.  I  spent  the  i;reatest  part  of  every  day  in  reading;  the  Scriptures,  and  in 
nu'ditation  and  prayer.  I  fasted  often  :  I  even  abstained  from  all  animal  food 
for  three  months.  I  would  hardly  answer  a  question,  for  fear  of  speaking  an  idle 
word.  I  seemed  to  bemoan  my  former  miscarria»j;es  very  earnestly,  and  sometimes 
>vith  tears:  in  short,  I  became  an  ascetie,  and  endeavoured,  as  far  as  my  situation 
Aould  permit,  to  renounce  society,  that  I  mif^ht  avoid  temptation." 

This  reformation,  it  seems,  continued  for  more  tlian  two  years.  "  But,"  he 
•idds,  "  it  was  a  poor  religion  ;  it  left  me  in  many  respects  under  the  power  of 
sin;  and,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  only  tended  to  make  me  gloomy,  stupid,  unso- 
ciable, and  useless." 

That  it  was  a  poor  religion,  and  quite  unlike  that  which  he  afterwards  possessed, 
will  appear  from  what  immediately  follows:  for  had  it  been  taken  up  upon  more 
scriptural  ground,  and  been  attended  with  that  internal  evidence  and  satisfaction, 
which  true  religion  only  brings,  he  could  not  so  soon  have  fallen  a  dupe  to  such 
a  writer  as  Shaftesbury.  It  was  at  a  petty  shop  at  Middleburgh,  in  Holland,  that 
he  first  met  with  a  volume  of  the  Characteristics.  The  declamation,  called  by  his 
Lordship  a  Rhapsody,  suited  the  romantic  turn  of  his  mind.  Unaware  of  its  ten- 
dency, he  imagined  he  had  found  a  valuable  guide.  This  book  was  alwavs  in  his 
hand,  till  he  could  nearly  repeat  the  Rhapsody.  Though  it  produced  no  immediate 
etlect,  it  operated  like  a  slow  poison,  and  prepared  the  way  for  all  that  followed. 

About  the  year  17  l'^,  having  lately  come  from  a  voyage,  his  father,  not  intend- 
ing to  return  to  sea,  was  contriving  for  Mr.  N.'s  settlement  in  the  world.  But 
to  settle  a  yctuth  who  had  no  spirit  for  business,  who  knew  but  little  of  men  or 
things,  who  was  of  a  romantic  turn — a  medley,  as  he  expressed  it,  of  religion, 
philosophy,  and  indolence,  and  quite  averse  to  order — must  prove  a  great  dit!iculty. 
At  length  a  merchant  in  Liverpool,  an  intimate  friend  of  the  father,  and  after- 
wards a  singular  friend  to  the  son,  offered  to  send  liim  for  some  years  to  Jamaica, 
and  undertook  the  charge  of  his  future  w  elfare.  This  was  consented  to,  and  pre- 
paration made  for  the  voyage,  which  w^n.s  to  be  prosecuted  the  following  week. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  was  sent  by  his  father,  on  some  business,  to  a  place  a  few 
lAiles  beyond  Maidstone  in  Kent.  But  the  journey,  which  was  designed  to  last 
but  three  or  four  days,  gave  such  a  turn  to  his  mind  as  roused  him  from  his  habi- 
tual indolence,  and  produced  a  series  of  important  and  interesting  occurrences. 

A  few  days  before  this  intended  journey,  he  received  an  invitation  to  visit  some 
distant  relations  in  Kent.  They  were  particular  friends  of  his  mother,  w  ho  died 
at  their  house;  but  a  coolness  having  taken  place  upon  his  father's  second  mar- 
riage, ail  intercourse  between  them  had  ceased.  As  his  road  lay  w^ithin  half  a 
mile  of  the  house,  and  he  obtained  his  father's  leave  to  call  on  them,  he  went 
thither,  and  met  with  the  kindest  reception  from  these  friends.  They  had  two 
daughters :  it  seems  the  elder  had  been  intended,  by  both  the  mothers,  for  his 
future  wife.  Almost  at  the  first  sight  of  this  girl,  then  under  fourteen  years  of 
age,  he  was  impressed  with  such  an  affection  for  her,  as  appears  to  have  equalled 
all  that  the  wTiters  of  romance  have  imagined. 

"  I  soon  lost,"  says  he,  "  all  sense  of  religion,  and  became  deaf  to  the  remon- 
strance of  conscience  and  prudence,  but  my  regard  for  her  was  alwavs  the  same  ; 
and  I  may,  perhaps,  venture  to  say,  that  none  of  the  scenes  of  misery  and  wick- 
edness I  afterwards  experienced,  ever  banished  her  a  single  hour  together  trom, 
toy  waking  thoughts  for  the  seven  following  years. 
B 


10  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

His  heart  beins;  now  riveted  to  a  particular  object,  every  thing  with  which  he 
was  concerned  appeared  in  a  new  lif^ht.  He  could  not  now  bear  the  thouglit  of 
living  at  such  a  distance  as  Jamaica,  for  four  or  five  years,  and  therefore  deter- 
mined not  to  go  thither.  He  dared  not  communicate  with  his  father  on  this  point, 
but,  instead  of  three  days,  he  staid  three  weeks  in  Kent,  till  the  ship  had  sailed, 
and  then  he  returned  to  London.  His  father,  though  highly  displeased,  became 
reconciled,  and  in  a  little  time  he  sailed  with  a  friend  of  his  father's  to  Venice. 

In  this  voyage,  being  a  common  sailor,  and  exposed  to  the  company  of  his  com- 
rades, he  began  to  rtdax  from  the  sobriety  which  he  had  preserved,  in  some  de- 
,gree,  for  more  than  two  years.  Sometimes,  pierced  with  convictions,  he  made  a 
few  faint  elforts,  as  formerly,  to  stop;  and  though  not  yet  absolutely  profligate, 
he  was  making  large  strides  towards  a  total  apostacy  from  God.  At  length  he 
received  a  remarkable  check  by  a  dream,  which  made  a  very  strong,  though  not 
abiding  impression  upon  his  mind. 

I  shall  relate  this  dream  in  his  own  words,  referring  to  the  Narrative  those  who 
wish  to  know  his  opinion  of  dreams,  and  his  application  of  this  one  in  particular 
to  his  own  circumstances: — 

"  The  scene  presented  to  my  imagination  w^as  the  harbour  of  Venice,  where 
we  had  lately  been.     I  thought  it  was  night,  and  my  watch  upon  the  deck  ;  and 
that,  as  I  was  walking  to  and  fro  by  myself,  a  person  came  to  me  (I  do  not  re- 
member from  whence)  and  brought  me  a  ring,  with  an  express  charge  to  keep  it 
carefully  ;   assuring  me,  that  while  I  preserved  that  ring  I  should  be  happy  and 
successful  :  but,  if  I  lost  or  parted  with  it,  I  must  expect  nothing  but  trouble  and 
misery.     I  accepted  the  present  ;ind  the  terms  willingly,  not  in  the  least  doubting 
my  own  care  to  preserve  it,  and  highly  satisfied  to  have  my  happiness  in  my  own 
keeping.     I  was  engaged  in  these  thoughts,  when  a  second  person  came  to  me, 
and,  observing  the  ring  on  my  finger,  took  occasion  to  ask  me  some  questions 
concerning  it.     I  readily  told  him  its  virtues;   and  his  answer  expressed  a  sur- 
prise at  my  weakness,  in  expecting  such  effects  from  a  ring.   I  think  he  reasoned 
with  me  some  time  upon  the  impossibility  of  the  thing;  and  at  length  urged  me, 
in  direct  terms,  to  throw  it  away.    At  first  I  was  shocked  at  the  proposal ;  but  his 
insinuations  prevailed,     I  began  to  reason  and  doubt,  and  at  last  plucked  it  oft'  my 
finger,  and  dropped  it  over  the  ship's  side  into  the  water,  which  it  had  no  sooner 
touched  than  I  saw,  at  the  same  instant,  a  terrible  fire  burst  out  from  a  range  of 
mountains  (a  part  of  the  Alps.)  which  appeared  at  some  distance  behind  the  city 
of  Venice.      I  saw  the  hills  as  distinct  as  if  awake,  and  that  they  were  all  in 
flames.      I  perceived,  too  late,  my  folly;  and  my  tempter  with  an  air  of  insult  in- 
formed me,  that  all  the  mercy  God  had  in  reserve  for  me  was  comprised  in  that 
ring,  which  I  had  wilfully  thrown  away.     I  understood,  that  I  must  now  go  with 
him  to  the  burning  mountains,  and  that  all  the  flames  I  saw  were  kindled  on  my 
account.      I  trembled,  and  was  in  a  great  agony  ;  so  that  it  was  surprising  I  did 
not  then  awake :  but  my  dream  continued,  and  when  I  thought  myself  upon  the 
point  of  a  constrained  departure,  and  stood  self-condemned,  without  plea  or  hope, 
suddenly  either  a  third  person,  or  the  same  w^ho  brought  the  ring  at  first,  (I  am 
not  certain  which,)  came  to  me,  and  demanded  the  cause  of  my  grief     I  told  him 
the  plain  case,  confessing  that  I  had  ruined  myself  wilfully,  and  deserved  no  pity. 
He  blamed  my  rashness,  and  asked  if  I  should  be  wiser,  supposing  I  had  my  ring 
again.     I  could  hardly  answer  to  this,  for  I  thought  it  was  gone  beyond  recal.     I 
believe,  indeed,  I  had  not  time  to  answer,  before  I  saw  this  unexpected  friend  go 
down  under  the  water,  just  in  the  spot  where  I  had  dropped  it,  and  he  soon  re- 
turned, bringing  the  ring  with  him  :  the  moment  he  came  on  board,  the  flames 
in  the  mountains  were  extinguished,  and  my  seducer  left  me.     Then  was  *  the 
prey  taken  from  the  hand  of  the  mighty,  and  the  lawful  captive  delivered.'     My 
fears  were  at  an  end,  and  with  joy  and  gratitude  I  approached  my  kind  djjliverer 
to  receive  the  ring  again  ;  but  he  refused  to  return  it,  and  spoke  to  this  effect: 
''If  you  should  be  intrusted  with  this  ring  again,  you  would  very  soon  bring  your- 
■self  into  the  same  distress ;  you  are  not  able  to  keep  it,  but  I  will  preserve  it  foi 


MKMonix   OK  Tin:   ui:v.  joiin   niiwton. 


II 


you,  iiiul  wht-ncvfr  it  is  uoidlul  will  jjroducc  it  in  your  htlcilf,'  Upon  liiJM  I 
awoke,  in  a  state  of  nuiid  not  to  be  (it  scribed  :  I  could  liuidly  cut,  or  Kle«-|i,  or 
transact  my  necessary  business  for  two  or  three  days;  but  tlie  impression  noon 
wore  ort*  and  in  a  little  time  I  totally  forgot  it;  and  I  think  it  liardly  occuired  to 
my  mind  again  till  several  years  afterwards." 

Nothing  remarkable  happened  in  the  following  part  of  that  voyaj^e.  Mr.  N. 
returned  home  in  I)ecen>l)er,  \1  Vi,  and,  repeating  his  visit  to  Kent,  protructrd 
his  stay  in  the  same  imprudent  nnmner  he  had  done  before.  'J'his  so  disappoiiit«'d 
his  father's  designs  for  his  interest,  as  almost  induced  him  to  disown  liissou.  Jie- 
fore  any  thing  suitable  ollered  again,  this  thoughtless  son,  unmindful  of  the  con- 
sequence of  appearing  in  a  check  shirt,  was  n)arked  by  a  lieutenant  of  the  Har- 
wich man-of-war,  who  immediately  imprt'ssed  and  carried  him  on  board  a  ten- 
der This  was  at  a  critical  juncture,  as  the  French  lleets  were  liovering  upon 
our  coast :  so  that  his  father  was  incapable  of  procuring  his  release.  A  few  days 
after,  he  was  sent  on  board  the  Harwich  at  the  Nore.  Here  a  new  scene  of  life 
was  presented,  and  for  about  a  month  much  hardship  endured.  As  a  war  was 
daily  expected,  his  father  was  willing  he  should  remain  in  the  navy,  and  procu- 
red him  a  recommendation  to  the  captain,  who  sent  him  upon  the  (piurter-deck 
as  a  midshipman.  He  might  now  have  had  ease  and  respect,  liad  it  not  been 
for  his  unsettled  mind  and  indilferent  behaviour.  The  companions  he  met  with 
here  completed  the  ruin  of  his  principles;  though  he  aflfected  to  talk  of  virtue, 
and  preserved  some  decency,  yet  his  delight  and  habitual  practice  was  wickedness. 
His  pilncipal  companion  was  a  person  of  talents  and  observation,  an  expert 
and  plausible  inhdel,  whose  zeal  was  equal  to  his  address.  "  I  have  been  told," 
says  Mr.  N.,  "  tliat  afterwards  he  was  overtaken  in  a  voyage  from  Lisbon  in  a 
violent  storm  ;  the  vessel  and  people  escaped,  but  a  great  sea  broke  on  board,  and 
swept  him  into  eternity."  Being  fond  of  this  man's  company,  Mr.  N.  aimed  to 
discover  what  smattering  of  reading  he  had  :  his  companion,  observing  that  Mr. 
N.  had  not  lost  all  the  restraints  of  conscience,  at  first  spoke  in  favour  of  religion  ; 
and  having  gained  Mr.  N.'s  confidence,  and  perceiving  his  attatchment  to  the 
Characteristics,  he  soon  convinced  his  pupil  that  he  had  never  understood  that 
book.  By  objections  and  arguments  Mr.  N.'s  depraved  heart  was  soon  gained. 
He  plunged  into  infidelity  with  all  his  spirit;  and,  like  an  unwary  sailor,  who 
<juits  his  post  just  before  a  rising  storm,  the  hopes  and  comforts  of  the  Gospel 
were  renounced  at  the  very  time  when  every  other  comfort  was  about  to  fail. 

In  December  1714,  the  Harwich  was  in  the  Downs,  bound  to  the  East  Indies. 
Tlie  captain  gave  Mr.  N.  leave  to  go  on  shore  for  a  day;  but,  with  his  usual  in- 
consideration,  and  following  the  dictates  of  a  restless  passion,  he  went  to  take  a 
last  leave  of  the  object  with  which  he  was  so  infatuated.  Little  satisfaction  at- 
tended the  interview  in  such  circumstances,  and  on  new-year's  day  he  returned 
to  the  ship.  The  captain  was  so  highly  displeased  at  this  rash  step,  that  it  occa- 
sioned ever  after  the  loss  of  his  favour. 

At  length  they  sailed  from  Spithead,  with  a  very  large  fleet.  They  put  into 
Torbay,  with  a  change  of  wind,  but  sailed  the  next  dav,  on  its  becoming  fair. 
Several  of  the  fleet  were  lost  at  leaving  the  place,  but  the  following  night  the 
whole  fleet  was  greatly  endangered  upon  the  coast  of  Cornwall,  by  a  storm  from 
the  southward.  The  ship  on  which  Mr.  N.  w^as  aboard  escaped  unhurt,  though 
several  times  in  danger  of  being  run  down  by  other  vessels ;  but  many 
suffered  much :  this  occasioned  their  putting  back  to  Plymouth. 

While  they  lay  at  Plymouth,  Mr.  N.  heard  that  his  father,  who  had  an  in- 
terest in  some  of  the  ships  lately  lost,  w^as  come  down  to  Torbay.  He 
thought,  that,  if  he  ^ould  see  his  father,  he  might  easily  be  introduced  into  a 
service  which  would  be  better  than  pursuing  a  long  and  uncertain  voyage  to  the 
East  Indies.  It  was  his  habit  in  those  unhappy  days,  never  to  deliberate:  as 
^oon  as  the  tliought  occurred,  he  resolved  to  leave  the  ship  at  all  events :  he  did 
so,  and  in  the  worst  manner  possible.  He  was  sent  one  day  in  the  boat  to  pre- 
vent others  from  <!eserlion,  but  betrayed  his  trust,  and  deserted  himself.     Not 


12  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

knowing  which  road  to  take,  and  fearing  to  inquire,  lest  he  should  he  suspected, 
yet  having  some  general  idea  of  the  country,  he  found,  after  he  had  travelled 
some  miles,  that  he  was  on  the  road  to  Dartmouth.  That  day,  and  part  of  the 
next,  every  thing  seemed  to  go  on  smoothly.  He  walked  fast,  and  thought  to 
have  seen  his  father  in  about  two  hours,  when  he  was  met  by  a  small  party  of 
soldiers,  whom  he  could  not  avoid  or  deceive:  they  brought  him  back  to  Ply- 
mouth, through  the  streets  of  which  he  proceeded  guarded  like  a  ft;lon.  Full  oi 
indignation,  shame,  and  fear,  he  was  confined  two  days  in  the  guard-house, 
then  sent  on  ship-board,  and  kept  a  while  in  irons  ;  next  he  was  publicly  stript 
and  whipt,  degraded  from  his  office,  and  all  his  former  companions  forbidden  to 
.show  him  the  least  favour,  or  even  to  speak  to  \\\m.  As  midshipman  he  had 
been  entitled  to  command,  in  which  (being  sufficiently  haughty  and  vain)  he  had 
not  been  temperate ;  but  was  now  in  his  turn  brought  down  to  a  level  with  the 
lowest,  and  exposed  to  the  insults  of  all. 

The  state  of  his  mind  at  this  time  can  only  be  properly  expressed  in  his  own 
words : — 

''  As  my  present  situation  was  uncomfortable,  my  future  prospects  were  still 
worse  ;  the  evils  I  suffered  were  likely  to  grow  heavier  every  day.  While  my 
catastrophe  was  recent,  the  officers  and  my  quondam  brethren  were  somewhat 
disposed  to  screen  me  from  ill  usage  ;  but  during  the  little  time  I  remained  with 
them  afterwards,  I  found  them  cool  very  fast  in  their  endeavours  to  protect  me. 
Indeed,  they  could  not  avoid  such  conduct,  without  running  a  great  risk  of  shar- 
ing with  me:  for  the  captain,  though  in  general  a  humane  man,  who  behaved 
very  well  to  the  ship's  company,  was  almost  implacable  in  his  resentment,  and 
took  several  occasions  to  show  it,  and  the  voyage  v/as  expected  to  be  (as  it  proved) 
for  five  years.  Yet  nothing  I  either  felt  or  feared  distressed  me  so  much,  as  to 
see  myself  thus  forcibly  torn  away  from  the  object  of  my  affections,  under  a  great 
improbability  of  seeing  her  again,  and  a  much  greater,  of  returning  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  would  give  me  hope  of  seeing  her  mine. 

"  Thus  I  was  as  miserable  on  all  hands,  as  could  well  be  imagined.  My  breast 
was  filled  with  the  most  excruciating  passions,  eager  desire,  bitter  rage,  and  black 
despair.  Every  hour  exposed  me  to  some  new  insult  and  hardship,  with  no 
hope  of  relief  or  mitigation  ;  no  friend  to  take  my  part,  nor  to  listen  to  my  com- 
plaint. Whether  I  looked  inward  or  outward,  I  could  perceive  nothing  but  d«irk- 
ness  and  misery.  I  think  no  case,  except  that  of  a  conscience  wounded  by  the 
wrath  of  God,  could  be  more  dreadful  than  mine.  I  cannot  express  with  what 
wishfulness  and  regret  I  cast  my  last  looks  upon  the  English  shore ;  I  kept  my 
eyes  fixed  upon  it,  till  the  ship's  distance  increasing,  it  insensibly  disappeared  ; 
and,  when  I  could  see  it  no  longer,  I  was  tempted  to  throw  myself  into  the  sea, 
which  (according  to  the  wicked  system  I  had  adopted)  would  put  a  period  to  all 
my  sorrows  at  once.     But  the  secret  hand  of  God  restrained  me." 

During  his  passage  to  Madeira,  Mr.  N.  describes  himself  as  a  prey  to  the  most 
gloomy  thoughts  ;  though  he  had  deserved  all,  and  more  than  all  he  had  met  with 
from  the  captain,  yet  pride  suggested  that  he  had  been  grossly  injured;  "and 
this  so  far,"  says  he,  "  wrought  upon  my.  wicked  heart,  that  I  actually  formed 
designs  against  his  life,  and  that  was  one  reason  which  made  me  willing  to  pro- 
long my  own.  I  was  sometimes  divided  between  the  two,  not  thinking  it  prac- 
ticable to  effect  both.  The  Lord  had  now  to  appearance  given  me  up  to  judicial 
hardness  ;  I  was  capable  of  any  thing.  I  had  not  the  least  fear  of  God  before 
my  eyes,  nor  (so  far  as  1  remember)  the  least  sensibility  of  conscience.  I  was 
possessed  with  so  strong  a  spirit  of  delusion,  that  I  believed  my  own  lie,  and  was 
firmly  persuaded,  that  after  death  I  should  cease  to"  be.  Yet  the  Lord  preserved 
me!  Some  intervals  of  sober  reflection  would  at  times  take  place:  when  I  have 
chosen  death  rather  than  life,  a  ray  of  hope  would  come  in  (though  there  was 
little  probability  for  such  hope)  that  I  should  yet  see  better  days,  that  I  might 
return  to  England,  and  have  my  wishes  crowned,  if  I  did  not  wilfully  throw  my- 
self away.     In  a  word,  my  love  to  Mrs.  N.  was  now  the  only  restraint  I  had 


MKMOIRS  OF  TlIK  RKV.  JOHN   NEWTON  13 

Ud:   thoiig^h  I  lU'ithtT  feared  God,  nor  np^wrdt-d  man,  I  (oiild  not  b«-;ir  that  bhe 
should  think  nieunly  of  lue  when  I  was  dtud. 

Mr.  N.  liiid  been  at  Madeira  some  time  ;  aiul  the  business  of  the  Ihrt  beirif^ 
now  eomph'tcd,  they  were  to  sail  the  follow  ins;  day.  On  that  memorablf  morn- 
\iv^  he  happenrd  to  be  late  in  bed,  and  would  have  continued  to  sleep,  but  that 
nn  old  eonipanion.  a  midshi|)man,  eame  down,  between  jest  and  earnest,  and  bid 
liirn  rise.  As  he  did  not  immediatrly  eomply,  the  njidshipmun  eut  down  the 
h.immoclv  in  which  he  lay;  this  obliged  him  to  dress  himself;  and  thou^li 
very  ani^ry  lie  durst  not  resent  it,  but  was  little  aware  that  this  pj'rson,  without 
cl»'sii;n,  was  a  special  inshumt-nt  of  God's  providence.  I\Ir.  N.  said  little,  hut 
we!it  upon  deck,  where  he  saw  a  man  puttini;  his  clotlu's  into  a  boat,  who  in- 
formed him  he  was  goiu^i;  to  leave  the  ship.  U|)<)n  iiKjuiry,  he  found  that  two 
men  from  a  Guinea  siiip,  which  lay  near  them,  had  entered  on  board  the  Har- 
wich, and  that  tlie  commodore  (the  late  Sir  Georj^e  Pocock)  lead  ordered  the 
c.'ptain  to  send  two  others  in  their  room.  Indamed  with  this  information, 
Mr.  X.  requested  that  the  boat  mi<ijht  be  detained  a  few  minutes;  he  then  en- 
treated the  lieutenants  to  intercede  with  the  captain,  that  he  mi^ijlit  be  dismissed 
upon  this  occasion  :  thousjii  he  had  formerly  behaved  ill  to  these  oflicers,  they 
were  moved  with  pity,  and  were  disposed  to  serve  him.  The  captain,  who  had 
refused  to  exchanoje  him  at  Plymouth,  thou;jjh  recpiested  by  Admiral  Medley, 
was  easily  prevailed  with  now.  In  little  more  than  half  an  hour  from  his 
being  asleep  in  bed,  he  found  himself  discharged,  and  safe  on  board  another -ship. 
The  events  depending  upon  this  change,  will  show  it  to  have  been  the  most  criti- 
cal \nd  important. 

The  ship  he  now  entered  was  bound  to  Sierra  Leone,  and  the  adjacent  parts  of 
what  is  called  the  windward  coast  of  Africa.  The  commander  knew  his  father — 
received  him  kindly — and  made  professions  of  assistance  ;  and  probably  would 
have  been  his  friend,  if,  instead  of  profiting  by  his  former  errors,  he  had  not  pur- 
sued a  course,  if  possible,  worse.  He  was  under  some  restraint  on  board  the 
Harwich,  but  being  now  among  strangers,  he  could  sin  without  disguise.  "  I 
well  remember,"  says  he,  "  that  while  I  was  passing  from  the  one  ship  to  the 
otiier,  I  rejoiced  in  the  exchange,  with  this  reflection,  that  1  might  now  be  as  aban- 
doned as  I  pleased,  without  any  control  ;  and  from  this  time  I  was  exceedingly 
vile  indeed,  little,  if  any  thing,  short  of  that  atiimated  description  of  an  almost 
irrecoverable  state,  which  we  have  in  '2  Pet.  ii.  14.  I  not  only  sinned  with  a 
high  hand  myself,  but  made  it  my  study  to  tempt  and  seduce  others  upon  every 
occasion  :  nay,  I  eagerly  sought  occasion,  sometimes  to  my  own  hazard  and  hurt. 
By  this  conduct  he  soon  forfeited  the  favour  of  his  captain  :  for,  besides  being  care- 
less and  disobedient,  upon  some  imagined  affront,  he  employed  his  mischievous 
wit  in  making  a  song  to  ridicule  the  captain  as  to  his  ship,  his  designs,  and  his 
person  ;  and  he  taught  it  to  the  whole  ship's  company. 

He  thus  proceeded  for  about  six  months,  at  which  time  the  ship  was  preparing 
to  leave  the  coast;  but,  a  few  days  before  she  sailed,  the  captain  died.  Mr.  N. 
was  not  upon  much  better  terms  with  his  mate,  who  succeeded  to  the  command, 
and  upon  some  occasion  had  treated  him  ill.  He  felt  certain,  that,  if  he  went 
in  the  ship  to  the  Wtst  Indies,  the  mate  w^ould  have  put  him  on  board  a  man- 
of-war,  a  consequence  more  dreadful  to  him  than  death  itself:  to  avoid  this,  he 
determined  to  remain  in  Africa,  and  pleased  himself  with  imagining  it  would  be 
an  opportunity  of  improving  his  fortune. 

Upon  that  part  of  the  coast  there  were  a  few  while  men  settled,  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  purchase  slaves,  &lc.  and  sell  them  to  the  ships  at  an  advanced 
price  :  one  of  these,  who  had  first  landed  in  circumstances  similar  to  Mr.  N.'s,  had 
acquired  considerable  wealth.  This  man  had  been  in  England,  and  was  re- 
turning in  the  same  vessel  with  Mr.  N.  of  which  he  owned  a  quarter  part.  His 
example  impressed  Mr  N.  with  hopes  of  the  same  success,  and  he  obtained  his 
discharge,  upon  condition  of  entering  into  the  trader's  service,  to  whose  gene- 
rosity he  trusted  without  the  precaution  of  terms.     He  received,  however,  no 


14  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.   JOHN  NEWTON. 

compensition  for  his  time  on  board  the  ship,  but  a  bill  upon  the  owners  in  Eng- 
land, who  fiiilin<r  before  his  return,  the  bill  was  never  paid;  the  day,  therefore, 
on  wliich  the  vessel  sailed,  he  landed  upon  the  island  of  Benanoes  like  one  ship- 
wrecked, with  little  more  than  the  clothes  upon  his  back. 

"The  two  foilowinsj  years,"  says  he,  "of  which  I  am  now  to  give  some  account, 
will  seem  as  an  absolute  blank  in  my  life  :  but  I  have  seen  frequent  causes  since  to 
admire  the  mercy  of  God  in  banishing  me  to  those  distant  parts,  and  almost  exclud- 
ing me  from  all  society,  at  a  time  when  I  was  big  with  mischief,  and,  like  one 
infected  with  a  pestilence,  was  capable  of  spreading  a  taint  wherever  I  went.  But 
the  Lord  wisely  placed  me  where  I  could  do  little  harm.  The  few  I  had  to  con- 
verse with  were  too  much  like  myself;  and  I  was  soon  brought  into  such  abject 
circumstances  that  I  was  too  low  to  have  any  influence.  I  was  rather  shunned 
and  despised  than  imitated,  there  being  few,  even  of  the  Negroes  themselves, 
during  the  first  year  of  my  residence,  but  thought  themselves  too  good  to  speak 
to  me.  I  was  as  yet  an  outcast  ready  to  perish;  but  the  Lord  beheld  me  with 
mercy — he  even  now  bid  me  live  ;  and  I  can  only  ascribe  it  to  his  secret  upholding 
power,  that  what  I  suffered,  in  a  part  of  this  interval,  did  not  bereave  me  either 
of  my  life  or  senses." 

The  reader  will  have  a  better  idea  of  the  situation  Mr.  N.  was  now  in  by  his 
brief  sketch  of  it. — 

"  From  Cape  de  Verd,  the  most  western  point  of  Africa,  to  Cape  Mount,  the 
whole  coast  is  full  of  rivers:  the  principal  are  the  Gambia,  Rio  Grande,  Sierra 
Leone,  and  Sherbro.  Of  the  former,  as  it  is  well  known,  and  as  I  was  never  there, 
I  need  say  nothing.  The  Rio  Grande  (like  the  Nile)  divides  into  many  branches 
near  the  sea.  On  the  most  northerly,  called  Cacheo,  the  Portuguese  have  a  set- 
tlement. The  most  southern  branch,  known  bv  the  name  of  Rio  Nuna,  is,  or  was 
the  usual  boundary  of  the  white  men's  trade  northward.  Sierra  Leone  is  a  moun- 
tainous peninsula,  uninhabited,  and  I  believe  inaccessible,  upon  account  of  the 
thick  woods,  excepting  those  parts  which  lie  near  the  water.  The  river  is  large 
and  navigable.  From  hence  about  twelve  leagues  to  the  south-east  are  three  con- 
tiguous islands,  called  the  Benanoes,  twenty  miles  in  circuit :  this  was  about  the 
centre  of  the  white  men's  residence.  Seven  leagues  farther,  the  same  way,  lie 
the  Plaiitaiies,  three  small  islands,  two  miles  distant  from  the  continent,  at  the 
point  which  forms  one  side  of  the  Sherbro.  This  river  is  more  properly  a 
sound,  running  within  a  long  island,  and  receiving  the  confluence  of  several  large 
rivers,  '  rivers  unknown  to  song,'  but  far  more  deeply  enorraven  in  my  remem- 
brance than  the  Po  or  Tiber.  The  southernmost  of  these  has  a  very  peculiar  course, 
almost  parallel  to  the  coast:  so  that  in  tracing  it  a  great  many  leagues  upwards,  it 
will  seldom  lead  one  above  three  miles,  and  sometimes  not  more  than  half  a  mile 
from  the  sea  shore." 

Mr.  N.'s  new  master  had  resided  near  Cape  Mount,  but  at  this  time  had  settled 
at  the  Plantanes,  on  the  largest  of  the  three  islands.  It  is  low  and  sandy,  about 
two  miles  in  circumference,  and  almost  covered  with  palm-trees.  They  imme- 
diately began  to  build  a  house.  Mr.  N.  had  some  desire  to  retrieve  his  time  and 
character,  and  might  have  lived  tolerably  well  with  his  master,  if  this  man  had  not 
been  much  under  the  direction  of  a  black  woman,  who  lived  with  him  as  a  wife, 
and  influenced  him  against  his  new  servant.  She  was  a  person  of  some  consequence 
in  her  own  country,  and  he  owed  his  first  rise  to  her  interest.  This  woman,  for 
reasons  not  known,  w  as  strangely  prejudiced  against  Mr.  N.  from  the  first ;  he  also 
had  unhappily  a  severe  lit  of  illness  which  attacked  him  before  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  show  what  he  could  or  would  do  in  the  service  of  his  master.  Mr.  N. 
was  sick  when  his  master  sailed  in  a  shallop  to  Rio  Nuna,  and  was  left  in  the 
hands  of  this  woman.  He  was  taken  some  care  of  at  first,  but  not  soon  recover- 
ing, her  Httention  was  wearied,  and  she  entirely  neglected  him.  Sometimes  it  was 
with  difficulty  he  could  procure  a  draught  of  cold  water  when  burning  with  t 
fever  !  His  bed  was  a  mat,  spread  vpoi)  a  hoard  or  chest,  with  a  log  for  his  pillow 
Upon  his  appLtite  returning,  after  the  fever  left  him,  he  would  gladly  have  eater 


i 


MKMOIRS   or  THE   RVV.   JOHN   NKWTOH.  11^ 

Dut  "  noonr  i;:ivt'  unto  him."*  Slu'  livi'd  in  piruty,  l)iit  scan-i-Iy  hIIowimI  hinj  huITi- 
cit'nt  to  sustain  lilV',  oxctpt  now  and  tluii,  wluii  in  tin*  lii^^lust  guml  humour  she 
woukl  snul  him  victuals  in  hrr  own  |)l:itt'  aft»'r  s\\v  hud  dimd.  And  this  (ho 
greatly  was  \\v  lunnbkd)  he  received  with  thanks  and  eagerness,  a.sthe  most  needy 
bejTujar  does  an  alms. 

"  Once,"  says  he,  "  I  well  remember,  I  was  called  to  receive  this  bounty  from 
her  own  hand  ;  but,  bein^  exceedingly  weak  and  feeble,  I  droppt d  the  plate. 
Those  will)  live  in  j)lenty  can  hardly  conceive  how  this  loss  touched  nie  :  but  she 
had  thecrueltv  to  lau|i;h  at  my  disappointment,  and  th()up;h  the  table  was  covered 
with  dishes  (lor  she  lived  nuich  in  the  Kuropean  manner)  she  refused  to  fr'wv  me 
anv  more.  Mv  distress  has  been  at  tinu'sso  jjjreat  as  to  compel  me  to  go  by  nij^ht, 
and  pull  up  roots  in  the  plantation  (thoui^h  at  the  risk  of  beintr  punished  as  a  thief,) 
which  I  have  eaten  raw  upon  the  spot  for  fear  of  discovery.  The  roots  I  speak 
of  are  very  wholesome  food,  when  boiled  or  roasted,  but  as  unfit  to  be  eaten  raw 
m  any  quantity  as  a  potato.  The  consecpience  of  this  diet,  which  after  the  first 
experiment  I  always  expected,  and  seldom  missed,  was  the  same  as  if  I  had  taken 
Tartar  emetic  ;  so  that  l  have  often  returned  as  empty  as  1  went,  yet  necessity 
urtjed  me  to  repeat  the  trial  several  times.  I  have  sometimes  been  relieved  by 
stranajers ;  yea,  even  by  the  slaves  in  the  chain,  who  have  secretly  brought  me 
victuals  (for  they  durst  not  be  seen  to  do  it)  from  their  own  slender  pittance. 
Next  to  pressing  want,  nothing  sits  harder  upon  the  mind  than  scorn  and  con- 
tempt, and  of  this  likewise  I  had  an  abundant  measure." 

When  slowlv  recovering,  the  same  woman  would  sometimes  pay  Mr.  N.  a  visit, 
not  to  pitv  or  relieve,  but  to  insult  him.  She  would  call  him  worthless  and  indo- 
lent, and  compel  him  to  walk  ;  which,  when  he  could  scarcely  do,  she  would  set 
her  attendants  to  mimic  his  motions,  to  clap  their  hands,  laugh,  throw  limes  ai 
him,  and  sometimes  they  would  even  throw  stones.  But  though  her  attendants 
were  forced  to  join  in  this  treatment,  Mr.  N.  was  rather  pitied  than  scorned  bv 
the  meanest  of  her  slaves,  on  her  departure. 

When  his  master  returned  from  the  voyage,  Mr.  N.  complained  of  ill  usage,  but 
was  not  credited,  and  as  he  did  it  in  her  hearing,  he  fared  worse  for  it.  H»^ 
accompanied  his  master  in  his  second  voyage,  and  they  agreed  pretty  well  till  hif 
master  was  persuaded  by  a  brother  trader,  that  Mr.  N.  was  dishonest.  This  seems 
to  be  the  only  vice  he  could  not  be  charged  with,  as  his  honesty  seemed  to  be  the 
last  remains  of  a  good  education  which  he  could  now  boast  of:  and  though  his  great 
distress  might  have  been  a  strong  temptation  to  fraud,  it  seems  he  never  once 
thought  of  defrauding  his  master  in  the  smallest  matter.  The  charge,  however,  was 
believed,  and  he  was  condemned  without  evidence.  From  that  time  he  was  used 
very  hardly  ;  whenever  his  master  left  the  vessel,  he  was  locked  upon  deck  with  a 
pint  of  rice  for  his  day's  allowance,  nor  had  he  any  relief  till  his  master's  returTi. 
"  Indeed,"  says  he,  "  I  believe  I  should  have  been  nearly  starved,  but  for  an  oppor- 
tunity of  catching  fish  sometimes.  When  fowls  were  killed  for  my  master's  own 
use,  !  seldom  was  allowed  any  part  but  the  entrails,  to  bait  my  hooks  with  :  and  at 
what  we  called  slack-water,  that  is,  about  the  changing  of  the  tides,  when  the  cur- 
rent was  still,  I  used  generally  to  fish  (for  at  other  times  it  was  not  practicable,)  and 
I  very  often  succeeded.  If  I  saw  a  fish  upoti  my  hook,  my  j(>y  was  little  less  than 
any  other  person  would  have  found  in  the  accomplishment  of  the  scheme  he  had 
most  at  heart.  Such  a  fish  hastily  broiled,  or  rather  half  burnt,  without  sauce, 
salt,  or  bread,  has  afforded  me  a  delicious  meal.  If  I  caught  none,  I  might,  if  I 
could,  sleep  away  my  hunger  till  the  next  return  of  slack-water,  and  then  try  again. 

"  Nor  did  I  suffer  less  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  the  want  of 
clothes.  The  rainy  season  was  now  advancing  ;  my  whole  suit  was  a  shirt,  a  pair 
of  trowsers,  a  cotton  handkerchief  instead  of  a  cap,  and  a  cotton  cloth  about  two 
yards  long,  to  s\ipply  the  want  of  upper  garments  :  and  thus  accoutred,  I  have  been 
exposed  for  twenty,  thirty,  perhaps  near  forty  hours  together,  in  incessant  rains^ 
accompanied  with  strong  gales  of  wind,  without  the  leav^t  shelter,  when  my  master 
was  on  bhore.     1  ieel  to  this  day  some  faint  returns  of  the  violent  pains  I  then  con* 


16  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

Iracted.  The  excessive  cold  and  wet  I  endured  in  that  voyage,  and  so  soon  after  I 
had  recovered  from  a  long  sickness,  quite  hroke  my  constitution  and  my  spirits  ; 
the  latter  were  soon  restored,  but  the  effects  of  the  former  still  remain  with  me,  as 
a  needful  memento  of  the  service  and  the  wag»isof  sin. 

In  about  two  months  they  returned,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  Mr.  N.  spent 
with  his  master  was  chiefly  at  the  Plantanes,  and  under  the  same  regimen  as  has 
been  mentioned.  His  heart  was  now  bowed  down,  but  not  at  all  to  a  whole- 
some repentance.  While  his  spirits  sunk,  the  language  of  the  prodigal  was  far 
from  him  :  destitute  of  resolution,  and  almost  all  reflection,  he  had  lost  the  fierce- 
ness which  fired  him  when  on  board  the  Harwich,  and  rendered  him  capable  of 
the  most  desperate  attempts ;  but  he  was  no  farther  changed  than  a  tiger  tamed 
by  hunger. 

However  strange  it  may  appear,  he  attests  it  as  a  truth,  that  though  destitute 
both  of  food  and  clothing,  and  depressed  beyond  common  wretchedness,  he  could 
sometimes  collect  his  mind  to  mathematical  studies.  Having  bought  Barrow's 
Euclid  at  Plymouth,  and  it  being  the  only  volume  he  brought  on  shore,  he  used 
to  take  it  to  remote  corners  of  the  island,  and  draw  his  diagrams  with  a  long 
stick  upon  the  sand.  "Thus,"  says  he,  "I  often  beguiled  my  sorrows,  and 
almost  forgot  my  feelings  ;  and  thus  without  any  other  assistance,  I  made  my- 
self in  a  good  measure  master  of  the  first  six  books  of  Euclid." 

"  With  my  staff  I  passed  this  Jordan,  and  now  I  am  become  two  bands." 
These  w^ords  of  Jacob  might  well  affect  Mr.  N.  when  remembering  the  days  ia 
■which  he  was  busied  in  planting  some  lime  or  lemon  trees.  The  plants  he 
put  into  the  ground  were  no  higher  than  a  young  gooseberry  bush.  His  master 
and  mistress,  in  passing  the  place,  stopped  a  w  hile  to  look  at  him  ;  at  length 
his  master  said,  "  Who  knows  but,  by  the  time  these  trees  grow  up  and  bear, 
you  may  go  home  to  England,  obtain  the  command  of  a  ship,  and  return  to  reap 
the  fruits  of  your  labours  ?      V\^e  see  strange  things  sometimes  happen." 

"  This,"  says  Mr.  Newton,  "  as  he  intended  it,  was  a  cutting  sarcasm.  I  be- 
lieve he  thought  it  full  as  probable  that  I  should  live  to  be  king  of  Poland  ;  yet 
it  proved  a  prediction,  and  they  (one  of  them  at  least,)  lived  to  see  me  return 
from  England,  in  the  capacity  he  had  mentioned,  and  pluck  some  of  the  first 
limes  from  those  very  trees.  How  can  I  proceed  in  my  relation,  till  I  raise  a 
monument  to  the  Divine  goodness,  by  comparing  the  circumstances  in  which  the 
Lord  has  since  placed  me  w^ith  what  I  was  in  at  that  time!  Had  you  seen  me, 
sir,  then  go  so  pensive  and  solitary  in  the  dead  of  night  to  wash  my  one  shirt 
upon  the  rocks,  and  afterwards  put  it  on  wet,  that  it  might  dry  upon  my  back, 
while  I  slept — had  you  seen  me  so  poor  a  figure,  that  when  a  ship's  boat  came 
to  the  island,  shame  often  constrained  me  to  hide  myself  in  the  woods,  from  the 
sight  of  strangers ;  especially,  had  you  known  that  my  conduct,  principles,  and 
heart,  were  still  darker  than  my  outward  condition — how  little  would  you  have 
imagined,  that  one  w^ho  so  fully  answered  to  the  (rTu>.iTo.  xx.  /u.<r=u.T£5*  of  the  apos- 
tle, was  reserved  to  be  so  peculiar  an  instance  of  the  providential  care  and  exu- 
berant goodness  of  God.  There  was  at  that  time  but  one  earnest  desire  of  my 
heart,  which  was  not  contrary  and  shocking  both  to  religion  and  reason  ;  and 
that  one  desire,  though  my  vile  licentious  life  rendered  me  peculiarly  unworthy 
of  success,  and  though  a  thousand  difficulties  seemed  to  render  it  impossible,  the 
Lord  was  pleased  to  gratify." 

Things  continued  thus  nearly  twelve  months.  In  this  interval  Mr.  N.  wrote 
two  or  three  times  to  his  father,  describing  his  condition,  and  desiring  his  assist- 
ance :  at  the  same  time  signifying,  that  he  had  resolved  not  to  return  to  England 
unless  his  parent  were  pleased  to  send  for  him.  His  father  applied  to  his  friend 
at  Liverpool,  who  gave  orders  accordingly  to  a  captain  of  his,  who  was  then  fit- 
ting out  for  Gambia  and  Sierra  Leone. 

Sometime  withia  the  year,  Mr.  N.  obtained  his  master's  conseut  to  live  with 

*  Hateful  and  hating  one  aaolher. 


MEMOIRS    OF    TJIK    RIIV.    JOHN     NKWTON.  17 

another  trader,  who  dwelt  upon  the  same  ishind.  This  cliangc  vras  much  to  hu 
adviuitii<:;e,  its  he  was  soon  dtccntlv  clothed,  livi'd  in  ph'uty,  was  treated  as  a 
companion,  and  trusted  with  his  elleets  to  the  amount  of  some  thousand  pounds. 
This  man  had  several  factories,  and  white  servants  in  difl'erent  places  ;  particu- 
jarly  one  in  Kittam,  tlie  river  already  described  as  runninj;  so  near  alonj;  the  sea 
coast.  Mr.  N.  w;ls  soon  appointed  there,  and  had  a  share  in  the  management 
of  business,  j(untly  with  another  servant;  they  lived  as  tiiey  plcitsed  ;  business 
flourished,  and  their  emjiloyer  was  satisfied. 

"  Here,"  says  he,  "I  began  to  be  wretch  enough  to  think  myself  happy. 
There  is  a  significant  phrase  frequently  used  in  those  parts,  that  such  a  white 
man  is  grown  black.  It  docs  not  intend  an  alteration  of  complexion,  but  disposi- 
tion. I  have  known  several,  who  settling  in  Africa  after  tlu;  age  of  thirty  or 
forty,  have  at  that  time  of  life  been  gradually  assimilated  to  the  tempers,  customs, 
and  ceremonies  of  the  natives,  so  far  as  to  prefer  that  country  to  England  ;  they 
have  even  become  dupes  to  all  the  pretended  charms,  necromancies,  amulets,  and 
divinations  of  the  blinded  Negroes,  and  put  more  trust  in  such  things  than  the 
wiser  sort  among  the  natives.  A  part  of  this  spirit  of  infatuation  was  growing 
upon  me  :  in  time,  perhaps,  I  might  have  yielded  to  the  whole.  I  entered  into 
closer  engagements  with  the  inhabitants,  and  should  have  lived  and  died  a  wretch 
amongst  them,  if  the  Lord  had  not  watched  over  me  for  good.  Not  that  I  bad 
lost  those  ideas  which  chielly  engaged  my  heart  to  England  ;  but  a  despair  of 
seeing  them  accomplished,  made  me  willing  to  remain  where  I  was.  I  thought 
I  could  more  easily  bear  the  disappointment  in  this  situation  than  nearer  home. 
But,  as  soon  as  I  had  fixed  my  connexions  and  plans  with  these  views,  the  Lord 
providentially  interposed  to  break  them  in  pieces,  and  save  me  from  ruin  in  spite 
of  myself." 

In  the  meantime,  the  ship  that  had  orders  to  bring  Mr.  N.  home,  arrived  at 
Sierra  Leone.  The  captain  made  inquiry  for  Mr.  N.  there,  and  at  the  Benanoes ; 
but  finding  he  was  at  a  great  distance,  thought  no  more  about  him.  A  special 
providence  seems  to  have  placed  him  at  Kittam  just  at  this  time ;  for  the  ship 
coming  no  nearer  the  Benanoes,  and  staying  but  a  few  days,  if  he  had  been  at 
the  Plantanes,  he  would  not  probably  have  heard  of  the  ship  till  she  had  sailed : 
the  same  must  certainly  have  been  the  event  had  he  been  sent  to  any  other  fac- 
tory, of  which  his  new  master  had  several.  But  though  the  place  he  went  to 
w  as  a  long  way  up  a  river,  much  more  than  a  hundred  miles  distance  from  the 
Plantanes,  yet,  by  its  peculiar  situation  already  noticed,  he  was  still  within  a 
mile  of  the  sea  coast.  The  interposition  was  also  more  remarkable,  as  at  that 
very  juncture  he  was  going  in  quest  of  trade,  directly  from  the  sea,  and  would 
have  set  out  a  day  or  two  before,  but  that  they  waited  for  a  few  articles  from  the 
next  ship  that  came,  in  order  to  complete  the  assortment  of  goods  he  was  to  take 
with  him. 

They  used  sometimes  to  walk  to  the  oeach,  in  hopes  of  seeing  a  vessel  pass 
by  :  but  this  was  very  precarious,  as  at  that  time  the  place  was  not  resorted  to  by 
ships  of  trade  :  many  passed  in  the  night ;  others  kept  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  shore,  nor  does  he  remember  that  any  one  had  stopped  while  he  was 
there. 

In  February  1747,  his  fellow-servant,  walking  down  to  the  beach  in  the  fore- 
noon, saw  a  vessel  sailing  by,  and  made  a  smoke  in  token  of  trade.  She  was 
already  beyond  the  place,  and  the  wind  being  fair,  the  captain  demurred  about 
stopping  :  had  Mr.  N.'s  companion  been  half  an  hour  later,  the  vessel  would 
have  been  beyond  recall.  When  he  saw  her  come  to  an  anchor,  he  went  on 
board  in  a  canoe,  and  this  proved  the  very  ship  already  spoken  of,  which 
brought  an  order  for  Mr.  N.'s  return.  One  of  the  first  questions  the  captain  put 
was  concerning  Mr.  N.;  and  understanding  he  was  so  near,  the  captain  came  oa 
shore  to  deliver  his  message. 

"  Had,"  says  he,  "  an  invitation  from  home  reached  me  when  I  was  sick  and 
starving  at  the  Plantanes,  I  should  have  received  it  as  life  from  the  dead ;  but 


18  MEMOIRS    CF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

now,  for  the  reasons  already  given,  I  heard  it  at  first  with  indifference.*'  The 
captain,  however,  unwilling  to  lose  him,  framed  a  story,  and  gave  him  a  very 
plausible  account  of  his  having  missed  a  large  packet  of  letters  and  papers,  which 
he  should  have  brought  witli  him  ;  but  said  he  had  it  from  his  father's  own 
mouth,  as  well  as  from  his  employer,  that  a  person  lately  dead  had  left  Mr.  N. 
four  hundred  pounds  per  annum  ;  and  added,  that,  if  embarrassed  in  his  circum- 
stances, he  had  express  orders  to  redeem  Mr.  N.  though  it  should  cost  one  half 
of  his  cargo.  Every  particular  of  this  was  false  ;  nor  could  Mr.  N.  believe  what 
"was  said  about  the  estate,  except  that,  as  he  had  some  expectations  from  an  aged 
relation,  he  thought  a  part  of  it  might  be  true. 

But  though  his  father's  care  and  desire  to  see  him  was  treated  so  lightly,  and 
"would  have  been  insufficient  alone  to  draw  him  from  his  retreat,  yet  the  remem- 
brance of  Mrs.  N.,  the  hopes  of  seeing  her,  and  the  possibility  that  his  accepting 
this  offer  might  once  more  put  him  in  the  way  of  gaining  her  hand,  prevailed 
over  all  other  considerations. 

The  captain  farther  promised,  (and  in  this  he  kept  his  worn,)  that  Mr.  N. 
should  lodge  in  his  cabin,  dine  at  his  table,  and  be  his  companion,  without  being 
liable  to  service.  Thus  suddenly  was  he  freed  from  a  captivity  of  about  fifteen 
months.  He  had  neither  a  thought  nor  a  desire  of  this  change  one  hour  before 
it  took  place  ;  but,  embarking  with  the  capt£^in,  he  in  a  few  hours  lost  sight  of 
Kittam. 

The  ship  in  which  he  embarked  as  a  passenger,  was  on  a  trading  voyage  for 
gold,  ivory,  dyers'  wood,  and  bees'  wax.  Such  a  cargo  requires  more  time  to 
collect  than  one  of  slaves.  The  captain  began  his  trade  at  Gambia,  had  been 
already  four  or  five  months  in  Africa,  and,  during  the  course  of  a  year  after  Mr. 
N.  had  been  with  him,  they  ranged  the  whole  coast  as  far  as  Cape  Lopez,  which 
lies  about  a  degree  south  of  the  equinoxial,  and  more  than  a  thousand  miles  fur- 
ther from  England  than  the  place  from  whence  he  embarked. 

"  I  have,"  says  he,  "little  to  offer  worthy  of  notice,  in  the  course  of  this  tedi- 
ous voyage.  I  had  no  business  to  employ  my  thoughts,  but  sometimes  amused 
myself  with  mathematics ;  excepting  this,  my  whole  life,  when  awake,  was  a 
course  of  most  horrid  impiety  and  profaneness.  I  know  not  that  I  have  ever  since 
met  so  daring  a  blasphemer.  Not  content  with  common  oaths  and  imprecations, 
I  daily  invented  new  ones  ;  so  that  I  was  often  seriously  reproved  by  the  captain, 
who  was  himself  a  very  passionate  man,  and  not  at  all  circumspect  in  his  ex- 
pressions. From  the  relation  I  at  times  made  him  of  my  past  adventures,  and 
what  he  saw  of  my  conduct,  and  especially  towards  the  close  of  the  voyage, 
when  we  met  with  many  disasters,  he  would  often  tell  me,  that,  to  his  great 
grief,  he  had  a  Jonah  on  board  ;  that  a  curse  attended  me  wherever  I  went ;  and 
that  all  the  troubles  he  met  with  in  the  voyage  were  owing  to  his  having  taken 
me  into  his  vessel." 

Although  Mr.  N.  lived  long  in  the  excess  of  almost  every  other  extravagance, 
he  was  never,  it  seems,  fond  of  drinking  :  his  father  was  often  heard  to  say,  that 
"while  his  son  avoided  drunkenness,  some  hopes  might  be  entertained  of  his  re- 
covery. Sometimes,  however,  in  a  frolic,  he  would  promote  a  drinking  bout ; 
not  through  love  of  liquor,  but  disposition  to  mischief.  The  last  proposal  he 
made  of  this  kind,  and  at  his  own  expense,  was  in  the  river  Gabon,  whilst  the 
ship  was  trading  on  the  coast,  as  follows  : — 

Four  or  five  of  them  sat  down  one  evening,  to  try  who  could  hold  out  longest 
in  drinking  geneva  and  rum  alternately  ;  a  large  sea-shell  supplied  the  place  of 
a  glass.  Mr.  N.  was  very  unfit  for  such  a  challenge,  as  his  head  was  always 
incapable  of  bearing  much  liquor :  he  began,  however,  and  proposed,  as  a  toast, 
some  imprecation  against  the  person  who  should  start  first :  this  proved  to  be 
himself.  Fired  in  his  brain,  he  arose  and  danced  on  the  deck  like  a  madman  ; 
and  while  he  was  thus  diverting  his  companions,  his  hat  went  overooard.  See- 
ing the  ship's  boat  by  moonlight,  he  endeavoured  eagerly  to  throw  himself  over 
Hie  side  into  the  boat,  that  he  mif_;ht  recover  bis  hat.     His  sight,  however,  de- 


MEMOIRS    OK    Tlir    RKV.    JOHN    NEWTON.  19 

ceivod  him,  for  tlu*  boat  was  not  (as  Im'  supposed,)  witliiii  his  reach,  htit  j)rrhaps 
twenty  ft't't  from  the  ship's  side  llr  was,  lioui'Vti,  hall*  ovrrhoard,  and  wouhl 
in  i\\v  space  of  a  nioniciit  liavc  pliini;i'd  into  tin;  water,  when  somebody  caught 
hold  of  his  clothes,  and  j)nlled  iiim  back.  This  was  an  ama/in^  escape,  us  he  could 
jiot  swim,  had  he  been  sober;  the  tide  ran  very  strong,  his  companions  were 
too  much  intoxicated  to  save  him,  and  the  rest  of  the  ship's  ( ompany  were 
asleep. 

Another  time,  at  Cape  Lopez,  before  the  sliip  left  the  coast,  he  went  with 
some  others  into  the  woods,  and  sliot  a  bulFalo,  or  wild  cow  :  they  brou^ht  a 
part  of  it  on  board,  and  carefully  marke'd  the  place  (as  he  thoui!;ht,)  where  the 
rest  was  left.  In  the  evening  they  returned  to  fetch  it,  but  set  out  too  late. 
Mr.  N.  undertook  to  be  their  "juide;  but  night  coming  on  before  they  could  reach 
the  plac**,  thev  lost  th«;ir  way.  Sometimes  they  were  in  swamps,  and  up  to  their 
middle  in  water  ;  and,  when  they  recovered  dry  land,  they  could  not  tell  whether 
they  were  proceeding  towards  the  ship,  or  the  contrary  way.  Every  step  in- 
creased their  uncertainty — night  grew^  darker — and  they  were  entangled  in  thick 
woods,  which  perhaps  the  foot  of  man  had  never  trodden,  and  which  abound 
with  wild  beasts;  besides  which,  they  had  neither  light,  food,  nor  arms,  while 
expecting  a  tiger  to  rush  from  behind  every  tree.  The  stars  were  clouded,  and 
they  had  no  compass  to  form  a  judgment  which  way  they  were  going.  But  it 
pleased  God  to  secure  them  from  the  beasts ;  and,  after  some  hours  perplexity, 
the  moon  arose,  and  pointed  out  the  eastern  quarter.  It  appeared  then,  that  in- 
stead of  proceeding  towards  the  sea,  they  had  been  penetrating  into  the  country; 
at  length,  by  the  guidance  of  the  moon,  they  recovered  the  ship. 

These,  and  many  other  deliverances,  produced  at  that  time  no  salutary  eflfect. 
The  admonitions  of  conscience,  which  from  successive  repulses  had  grown  weaker 
and  weaker,  at  length  entirely  ceased  ;  and  for  the  space  of  many  months,  if  not 
for  some  years,  he  had  not  a  single  check  of  that  sort.  At  times  he  was  visited 
with  sickness,  and  believed  himself  to  be  near  death,  but  had  not  the  least  con- 
cern about  the  consequences.  "  In  a  word,"  says  he,  "I  seemed  to  have  every 
mark  of  final  impenitence  and  rejection ;  neither  judgments  nor  mercies  made 
the  least  impression  on  me." 

At  length,  their  business  being  finished,  they  lefl  Cape  Lopez,  and  after  a  few 
days  stay  at  the  island  of  Annabona,  in  order  to  lay  in  provisions,  they  sailed 
homeward  about  the  beginning  of  January,  1784.  From  Annabona  to  England 
is  perhaps  more  than  seven  thousand  miles,  if  the  circuits  are  included,  which 
are  necessary  to  be  made  on  account  of  the  trade  winds.  They  sailed  first  west- 
Avard,  till  near  the  coast  of  Brazil,  then  northward,  to  the  banks  of  Newfound- 
land, without  meeting  any  thing  extraordinary.  On  these  banks  they  stopped 
half  a  day  to  fish  for  cod  :  this  was  then  chiefly  for  diversion,  as  they  had  pro- 
vision enough,  and  little  expected  those  fish,  (as  it  afterwards  proved,)  would  be 
all  they  would  have  to  subsist  on.  They  left  the  banks,  March  1st,  with  a  hard 
gale  of  wind  westerly,  which  pushed  them  fast  homewards.  By  the  length  of  this 
voyage,  in  a  hot  climate,  the  vessel  was  greatly  out  of  repair,  and  very  unfit  to 
endure  stormy  weather.  The  sails  and  cordage  were  likewise  very  much  worn, 
and  many  such  circumstances  concurred  to  render  what  followed  imminently 
dangerous. 

Among  the  few  books  they  had  on  hoard  was  Stanhope's  Thomas  a  Kempis. 
Mr.  N.  carelessly  took  it  up,  as  he  had  often  done  before,  to  pass  away  the  time, 
but  which  he  had  read  with  the  same  indifference  as  if  it  were  a  romance.  But 
in  reading  it  this  time,  a  thought  occurred,  "  What  if  these  things  should  be 
true  ?"  He  could  not  bear  the  force  of  the  inference,  and  therefore  shut  the 
book,  concluding  that,  true  or  false,  he  must  abide  the  consequences  of  his  own 
choice,  and  put  an  end  to  these  reflections  by  joining  in  the  vain  couversatior 
which  came  in  his  way. 

"  But  now,"  says  he,  *•'  the  Lord's  time  was  come,  and  the  conviction  I  was  so 
unwilling  to  receive  was  deeply  impressed  upon  me  by  an  awful  dispensation." 


20  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOHN    NEWTON. 

He  went  to  bed  that  night  in  his  usual  carnal  security,  but  was  awaked  from 
a  sound  sleep  by  the  force  of  a  violent  sea  which  broke  on  board  :  so  much  of  it 
came  down  as  filled  the  cabin  with  water  in  which  he  lay.  This  alarm  was 
followed  by  a  cry  from  the  deck,  that  the  ship  was  sinking.  He  essayed  to  go 
upon  deck,  but  was  met  upon  the  ladder  by  the  captain,  who  desired  him  to 
bring  a  knife.  On  his  returning  for  the  knife,  another  person  went  up  in  his 
place,  who  was  instantly  washed  overboard.  They  had  no  leisure  to  lament  him, 
nor  expected  to  survive  him  long,  for  the  ship  was  filling  with  water  very  fa.st 
The  sea  had  torn  away  the  upper  timbers  on  one  side,  and  made  it  a  mere 
wreck  in  a  few  minutes  ;  so  that  it  seems  almost  miraculous  that  any  survived  to 
relate  the  story.  They  had  immediate  recourse  to  the  pumps,  but  the  water  in- 
creased against  their  efforts.  Some  of  them  were  set  to  bailing,  though  they  had 
but  eleven  or  twelve  people  to  sustain  this  service  :  but  notwithstanding  all  they 
could  do,  the  vessel  was  nearly  full,  and  with  a  common  cargo  must  have  sunk ; 
but  having  a  great  quantity  of  bees'  wax  and  wood  on  board,  which  was  speci- 
fically lighter  than  water,  and  providentially  receiving  this  shock  in  the  very 
crisis  of  the  gale,  towards  morning  they  were  enabled  to  employ  some  means  for 
safety,  which  succeeded  beyond  hope.  In  about  an  hour's  time  day  began  to 
break,  and  the  wind  abated :  they  expended  most  of  their  clothes  and  bedding 
to  stop  the  leaks  ;  over  these  they  nailed  pieces  of  boards,  and  at  last  perceived 
the  water  within  to  subside. 

At  the  beginaing  of  this  scene  Mr.  N.  was  little  affected :  he  pumped  hard, 
and  endeavoured  to  animate  himself  and  his  companions.  He  told  one  of  them, 
that  in  a  few  days  this  distress  would  serve  for  a  subject  over  a  glass  of  wine ; 
but  the  man  being  less  hardened  than  himself,  replied,  with  tears,  "  No ;  it  is 
too  late  now."  About  nine  o'clock,  being  almost  spent  with  cold  and  labour, 
Mr.  N.  went  to  speak  with  the  captain;  and,  as  he  was  returning,  said,  almost 
without  meaning,  ''If  this  will  not  do,  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us!"  thus 
expressing,  though  with  little  reflection,  his  desire  of  mercy  for  the  first  time 
within  the  space  of  many  years.  Struck  with  his  own  words,  it  directly  occurred 
to  him,  "  What  mercy  can  there  be  for  me !"  He  was,  however,  obliged  to  re- 
turn to  the  pump,  and  there  continued  till  noon,  almost  every  passing  wave 
breaking  over  his  head,  being,  like  the  rest,  secured  by  ropes,  that  they  might 
not  be  washed  away.  He  expected,  indeed,  that  every  time  the  vessel  descended 
in  the  sea,  she  would  rise  no  more  ;  and  though  he  dreaded  death  now,  and  his 
heart  foreboded  the  worst,  if  the  Scriptures,  which  he  had  long  opposed,  were 
true,  yet  he  was  still  but  half  convinced,  and  remained  for  a  time  in  a  sullen 
frame,  a  mixture  of  despair  and  impatience.  He  thought,  if  the  Christian  reli- 
gion were  true,  he  could  not  be  forgiven,  and  was  therefore  expecting,  and  al- 
most at  times  wishing,  to  know  the  worst  of  it. 

The  following  part  of  his  Narrative  will,  I  think,  be  best  expressed  in  his  own 
words  : — "  The  lOth,  that  is,  in  the  present  style,  the  21st  of  March,  is  a  day 
much  to  be  remembered  by  me,  and  I  have  never  suffered  it  to  pass  wholly  un- 
noticed since  the  year  1748.  On  that  day  the  Lord  sent  from  on  high,  and 
delivered  me  out  of  deep  waters.  I  continued  at  the  pump  from  three  in  the 
morning  till  near  noon,  and  then  I  could  do  no  more.  I  went  and  lay  down 
upon  my  bed,  uncertain,  and  almost  indifferent,  whether  I  should  rise  again. 
In  an  hour's  time  I  was  called,  and,  not  being  able  to  pump,  I  went  to  the  helm, 
and  steered  the  ship  till  midnight,  excepting  a  small  interval  for  refreshment.  I 
had  here  leisure  and  convenient  opportunity  for  reflection.  I  began  to  think  of 
my  former  religious  professions — the  extraordinary  turns  of  my  life — the  calls, 
warnings,  and  deliverances  I  had  met  with — the  licentious  course  of  my  conver- 
sation— particularly  by  unparalleled  effrontery,  in  making  the  Gospel  histoiy 
(which  I  could  not  be  sure  was  false,  though  I  was  not  yet  assured  it  was  true) 
the  constant  subject  of  profane  ridicule.  I  thought,  allowing  the  Scripture  pre- 
mises, there  never  was  or  could  be  such  a  sinner  as  myself;  and  then  comparing  j 
the  advantages  I  had  broken  through,  I  concluded  at  first,  that  my  sins  were  too] 


MKMOIRS  OF  THE   RKV.   JOHN   M:\VTON.  21 

f^reat  to  he  forc;ivon.  The  Scripture  likewise  seemed  to  say  tlu'  same  :  for  I  had 
formerly  been  well  iiequaiiited  with  the  Bible,  and  many  passaj^es  npor»  this  re- 
turned upon  my  memory;  partieularly  those  awful  passages,  J'rov.  i.  til — -Jl ; 
Heb.  vi.  1,  (J;  and  *i  Pet.  ii.  '10  ;  which  seemed  so  exactly  to  suit  my  ea.se  and 
character,  as  to  brin<;  with  tlu'm  a  presumj)tive  proof  of  a  divine  orij^inal. 

"Thus,  as  I  have  said,  I  hav(^  waited  with  fear  and  impatience  to  refeive  my 
inevitable  doom.  Vet  thou^;h  I  had  thou^^hts  of  this  kind,  they  were  cxccedinj^ 
faint  and  disproportionate  ;  it  was  not  till  after  (pcrhaj)s)  several  years,  that  I  had 
pained  some  clear  views  of  the  infinite  righteousness  and  prace  of  ('hrist  Jesus 
my  Lord,  that  I  had  a  deep  and  stron<j;  apprehension  of  my  state  by  nature  and 
practice  ;  and  perhaj)s,  till  then,  I  could  not  have  borne  the  sif>;ht:  so  wonderfully 
does  the  Lord  proportion  the  discoveries  of  sin  and  prace  ;  for  he  knows  our 
frame,  and  that  if  he  were  to  put  forth  the  p;reatness  of  his  power,  a  poor  sinner 
would  be  instantly  overwhelmed,  and  cruslied  as  a  moth. 

But  to  return:  when  I  saw  beyond  all  probability,  that  tliere  was  still  hope  of 
respite,  and  heard  about  six  in  the  evening  that  the  ship  was  freed  from  w  ater, 
there  arose  a  gleam  of  liope.  I  thought  I  saw  the  hand  of  God  displayed  in  our 
favour.  I  began  to  pray  :  I  could  not  utter  the  prayer  of  faith  :  I  could  not  draw 
near  to  a  reconciled  God  and  call  him  Father :  my  prayer  was  like  the  cry 
of  the  ravens,  which  yet  the  Lord  does  not  disdain  to  hear.  I  now  began  to 
think  of  that  Jesus  whom  I  had  bo  often  derided  :  I  recollected  the  particulars  of 
his  life  and  of  his  death  ;  a  death  for  sins  not  his  own,  but,  as  I  remembered,  for 
the  sake  of  those,  who,  in  their  distress,  should  put  their  trust  in  him.  And  now 
I  chiefly  wanted  evidence.  The  comfortless  principles  of  infidelity  were  deeply 
riveted,  and  I  rather  wished  than  believed  these  things  were  real  facts.  You 
will  please  to  observe,  that  I  collect  the  strain  of  the  reasonings  and  exercises  of 
ray  mind  in  one  view  ;  but  I  do  not  say  that  all  this  passed  at  one  time.  The 
great  question  now  was,  how  to  obtain  faith  .''  I  speak  not  of  an  appropriating 
faith  (of  which  I  then  knew  neither  the  nature  nor  necessity,)  but  how  I  should 
gain  an  assurance  that  the  Scriptures  v/ere  of  divine  inspiration,  and  a  sufficient 
warrant  for  the  exercise  of  trust  and  hope  in  God. 

"  One  of  the  first  helps  I  received,  (in  consequence  of  a  determination  to  ex- 
amine the  New  Testament  carefully,)  was  from  Luke  xi.  L3.  I  had  been  sensi- 
ble, that  to  profess  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  when,  in  reality,  I  did  not  believe  his 
history,  was  no  better  than  a  mockery  of  the  heart-searching  God  ;  but  here  I 
found  a  Spirit  spoken  of,  which  was  to  be  communicated  to  those  who  ask  it. 
Upon  this  I  reasoned  thus  :  If  this  book  be  true,  the  promise  in  this  passage 
must  be  true  likewise  :  I  have  need  of  that  very  Spirit,  by  which  the  whole  was 
written,  in  order  to  understand  it  aright.  He  has  engaged  here  to  give  that 
Spirit  to  those  who  ask  :  I  must  therefore  pray  for  it,  and  if  it  be  of  God  he  will 
make  good  his  own  word.  My  purposes  were  strengthened  by  John  vii.  17. 
I  concluded  from  thence,  that  though  I  could  not  say  from  my  heart,  that  I  be- 
lieved the  Gospel,  yet  I  would,  for  the  present,  take  it  for  granted ;  and  that  by 
studying  it  in  this  light,  I  should  be  more  and  more  confirmed  in  it. 

"If  what  I  am  writing  could  be  perused  by  our  modern  infidels,  they  would 
say,  (for  I  too  well  know  their  manner,)  that  I  was  very  desirous  to  persuade 
myself  into  this  opinion.  I  confess  I  was,  and  so  would  they  be,  if  the  Lord 
should  show  them,  as  he  was  pleased  to  show  me  at  that  time,  the  absolute  ne- 
cessity of  some  expedient  to  interpose  between  a  righteous  God  and  a  sinful  soul: 
upon  the  Gospel  scheme  I  saw  at  least  a  peradventure  of  hope,  but  on  every  other 
side  I  was  surrounded  with  black,  unfathomable  despair." 

The  wind  being  now  moderate,  and  the  ship  drawing  nearer  to  its  port,  the 
ship's  company  began  to  recover  from  their  consternation,  though  greatly  alarmed 
by  their  circumstances.  They  found,  that  the  water  having  floated  their  move- 
ables in  the  hold,  all  the  casks  of  provisions  had  been  beaten  to  pieces  by  the 
violent  motion  of  the  ship.  On  the  other  hand,  their  live  stock  had  been  w^ashea 
overboard,  in  the  storm.     In  short,  all  the  provisions  they  saved,  except  the  fish 


22  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

ately  caught  on  the  banks  for  amusement,  and  a  little  of  the  pulse  kind,  which  used 
to  be  given  to  the  ho2;s,  would  have  supported  them  but  a  week,  and  that  at  a 
scanty  allowance.  The  sails,  too,  were  mostly  blown  away,  so  that  they  ad- 
vanced but  slowly  even  while  the  wind  was  fair.  They  imagined  they  were 
about  a  hundred  leagues  from  land,  but  were  in  reality  much  farther.  Mr.  N.'s 
leisure  Was  chiefly  employed  in  reading,  meditation  on  the  Scriptures,  and  prayer 
for  mercy  and  instruction. 

Things  continued  thus  for  about  four  or  five  days,  when  they  were  awakened 
one  morning  by  the  joyful  shouts  of  the  watch  upon  deck,  proclaiming  the  sight 
of  land,  with  which  they  were  ail  foon  raised.  The  dawning  was  uncommonly 
beautiful,  and  the  light,  just  sufficient  to  discover  distant  objects,  presented  what 
seemed  a  mountainous  coast,  about  twenty  miles  ofi',  with  two  or  three  small 
islands ;  the  whole  appeared  to  be  the  north-west  extremity  of  Ireland,  for 
which  they  were  steering.  They  sincerely  congratulated  each  other,  having  no 
doubt,  that,  if  the  wind  continued,  they  should  be  in  safety  and  plenty  the  next 
day.  Their  brandy,  which  was  reduced  to  a  little  more  than  a  pint,  was,  by 
the  captain's  orders,  distributed  among  them  ;  who  added,  "  \Ve  shall  soon  have 
brandy  enough."  They  likewise  ate  up  the  residue  of  their  bread,  and  were  in 
the  condition  of  men  suddenly  reprieved  from  death. 

But  while  their  hopes  were  thus  excited,  the  mate  sunk  their  spirits  by  say- 
ing, in  a  graver  tone,  that  ''he  wished  it  might  prove  land  at  last."  If  one  of 
the  common  sailors  had  first  said  so,  the  rest  would  probably  have  beaten  him. 
The  expression,  however,  brought  on  warm  debates,  whether  it  was  land  or  not; 
but  the  case  was  soon  decided  ;  for  one  of  their  fancied  islands  began  to  grow  red 
from  the  approach  of  the  sun.  In  a  word,  their  land  was  nothing  but  clouds ; 
and  in  half  an  hour  more  the  whole  appearance  was  dissipated. 

Still,  however,  they  cherished  hope  from  the  wind  continuing  fair  ;  but  of  this 
hope  they  were  soon  deprived.  That  very  day,  their  fair  wind  subsided  into 
a  calm,  and  the  next  morning  the  gale  sprung  up  from  the  south-east,  directly 
against  them,  and  continued  so  for  more  than  a  fortnight  afterwards.  At  this  time 
the  ship  was  so  wrecked,  that  they  were  obliged  to  keep  the  wind  always  on  the 
broken  side,  except  when  the  weather  was  quite  moderate  ;  and  were  thus  driven 
still  farther  from  their  port  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  as  far  as  the  Lewis  or  western 
isles  of  Scotland.  Their  station  now  was  such  as  deprived  them  of  any  hope  of 
relief  from  other  vessels.  "  It  may  indeed  be  questioned,"  says  Mr.  N.,  "whether 
our  ship  was  not  the  very  first  tliat  had  been  in  that  part  of  the  ocean,  at  the 
same  time  of  the  year." 

Provisions  now  began  to  fall  short,  the  half  of  a  salted  cod  was  a  day's  subsist- 
ence for  twelve  people  :  they  had  no  stronger  liquor  than  water,  no  bread,  hardly 
any  clothes,  and  very  cold  weather.  They  had  also  incessant  labour  at  the 
pumps,  to  keep  the  ship  above  water.  Much  labour  and  little  food  wasted  them 
fast,  and  one  man  died  under  the  hardship.  Yet  their  sufferings  were  light 
when  compared  with  their  fears.  Their  bare  allowance  could  continue  but  little 
longer,  and  a  dreadful  prospect  appeared  of  their  being  either  starved  to  death,  or 
reduced  to  feed  upon  one  another. 

At  this  time  Mr.  N.  had  a  farther  trouble,  peculiar  to  himself.  The  captain, 
whose  temper  was  quite  soured  by  distress,  was  hourly  reproaching  him  as  the 
sole  cause  of  the  calamity,  and  was  confident,  that  his  being  thrown  overboard 
would  be  the  only  means  of  preserving  them.  The  captain,  indeed,  did  not  in- 
tend to  make  the  experiment,  but  "  the  continued  repetition  of  this  in  my  ears," 
says  Mr.  X.,  '•  gave  me  much  uneasiness;  especially  as  my  conscience  seconded 
his  words :  I  thought  it  very  probable,  that  all  that  had  befallen  us  was  on  my 
account — that  I  was  at  last  found  out  by  the  powerful  hand  of  God — and  con- 
demned in  my  own  breast." 

While,  however,  they  were  thus  proceeding,  at  the  time  when  they  were 
ready  to  give  up  all  for  lost,  and  despair  appeared  in  every  countenance,  thej 
began  to  conceive  hope,  from  the  wind's  shifting  to  the  desired  point,  so  as  lezt 


MKMOIRS    OV    Tin:    KKV.    JOHN    NKW TON.  23 

to  suit  th;it  broktn  part  of  the  sliip,  wliicli  must  hv  k«'j)t  out  of  tin*  watrr,  and  so 
gently  to  blow  as  tluir  ft'w  roiniii?uu^  sails  could  bear.  And  thus  it  coutiuurd,  at 
un  uusottU'd  tinu'  of  the  year,  till  they  were  once  iiiort!  called  up  to  see  land,  and 
"^vhielj  was  really  sueh.  They  saw  the  island  of  Tory,  and  the  lu'xt  day  an- 
<.hore<l  in  Lou«;h  S willy,  in  Ireland,  on  tfie  Hth  of  April,  just  four  weeks  after 
tile  damage  they  had  sustained  from  the  sea.  When  they  came  into  this  port, 
their  very  last  victuals  were  boiling  in  the  pot,  and  before  they  had  l>een  therc! 
two  hours,  the  wind,  which  seemed  to  have  been  providentially  r»  s(raint:(l  till 
they  were  in  a  place  of  safety,  began  to  blow  with  great  violenc*' ;  so  that,  if 
they  had  continued  at  sea  that  night,  they  must,  in  all  human  estimation,  have 
gone  to  the  bottom  !  "  About  this  time,"  says  Mr.  N.,  "  I  began  to  know  that 
there  is  a  (iod,  who  hears  and  answers  prayer." 

Mr.  N.'s  history  is  now  brought  down  to  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  Ireland,  in 
the  year  1748;  and  the  progress  he  had  liitherto  made  in  religion  will  be  best  re- 
lated in  his  own  words.  I  shall,  therefore,  make  a  longer  extract  than  usual, 
because  it  is  important  to  trace  the  operation  of  real  religion  in  the  heart.  Speak- 
ing of  the  ship  in  which  he  lately  sailed,  he  says,  "  There  were  no  persons  on 
board  to  whom  I  could  open  myself  with  freedom,  concerning  the  state  of  my 
goul ;  none  from  whom  I  could  ask  advice.  As  to  books,  I  had  a  New  Testa- 
ment, Stanhope,  already  mentioned,  and  a  volume  of  Bishop  Beveridge's  Ser- 
mons, one  of  which,  upon  our  Lord's  passion,  affected  me  much.  In  perusing 
the  New  Testament,  I  was  struck  with  several  passages,  particularly  that  of  the 
fig-tree,  Luke  xiii.  the  case  of  St.  Paul,  1  Tim.  i.  but  particularly  that  of  the  pro- 
digal, Luke  XV.  I  thought  that  had  never  been  so  nearly  exemplified  as  by  my- 
self. And  then  the  goodness  of  the  father  in  receiving,  nay,  in  running  to  meet 
such  a  son,  and  this  intended  only  to  illustrate  the  Lord's  goodness  to  returning 
sinners !  Such  reflections  gaining  upon  me,  I  continued  much  in  prayer  ;  I  saw 
that  the  Lord  had  interposed  so  far  to  save  me,  and  I  hoped  he  would  do  more. 
Outward  circumstances  helped  in  this  place  to  make  me  still  more  serious  and 
earnest  in  crying  to  him,  who  alone  could  relieve  me  ;  and  sometimes  I  though 
I  could  be  content  to  die  even  for  want  of  food,  so  I  might  but  die  a  believer. 

**  Thus  far  I  was  answered,  that  before  we  arrived  in  Ireland  I  had  a  satisfac- 
tory evidence,  in  my  own  mind,  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  as  considered  in 
itself,  and  of  its  exact  suitableness  to  answer  all  my  needs.  I  saw,  that,  by  the 
way  they  were  pointed  out,  God  might  declare,  not  his  mercy  only,  but  his  jus- 
tice also,  in  the  pardon  of  sin,  on  account  of  the  obedience  and  sufferings  of  Jesus 
Christ.  My  judgment,  at  that  time,  embraced  the  sublime  doctrine  of  '  God  ma- 
nifest in  the  flesh,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself.'  I  had  no  idea  of  those 
systems,  which  allow  the  Saviour  no  higher  honour  than  that  of  an  upper  ser- 
vant, or  at  the  most  a  demi-god.  I  stood  in  need  of  an  Almighty  Saviour,  and 
such  a  one  I  found  described  in  the  New  Testament.  Thus  far  the  Lord  had 
wrought  a  marvellous  thing  ;  I  was  no  longer  an  infidel ;  I  heartily  renounced 
my  former  profaneness,  and  had  taken  up  some  right  notions  ;  was  seriously  dis- 
posed, and  sincerely  touched  with  a  sense  of  the  undeserved  mercy  I  had  re- 
ceived, in  being  brought  safe  through  so  many  dangers.  I  was  sorry  for  my 
past  mispent  life,  and  proposed  an  immediate  reformation.  I  was  quite  freed 
from  the  habit  of  swearing,  which  seemed  to  have  been  deeply  rooted  in  me,  as 
a  second  nature.     Thus,  to  all  appearance,  I  w^as  a  new  man. 

"But  though  I  cannot  doubt  that  this  change,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  was 
wrought  by  the  Spirit  and  power  of  God,  yet  still  I  was  greatly  deficient  in 
many  respects.  I  was  in  some  degree  affected  with  a  sense  of  my  enormous 
sins ;  but  I  was  little  aware  of  the  innate  evils  of  my  heart.  I  had  no  appre- 
hension of  the  spirituality  and  extent  of  the  law  of  God  ;  the  hidden  life  of  a 
Christian,  as  it  consists  in  communion  with  God  by  Jesus  Christ ;  a  continual 
dependence  on  him  for  hourly  supplies  of  wisdom,  strength,  and  comfort,  was  a 
mystery  of  which  I  had  as  yet  no  knowledge.  I  acknowledged  the  Lord's 
mercy  in  pardoning  what  was  past,  but  depended  chiefly  upon  my  own  resolu 


21  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

tion  to  do  better  for  the  time  to  come.  I  had  no  Christian  friend  or  faithful 
minister  to  advise  me,  that  my  strenj^th  was  no  more  than  my  righteousness  ; 
and  though  I  soon  began  to  inquire  for  serious  books,  yet,  not  having  spiritua* 
discernment,  I  frequently  made  a  wrong  choice  ;  and  I  was  not  brought  in  the 
way  of  evangelical  preaching  or  conversation,  (except  the  few  times  when  i 
heard  but  understood  not,)  for  six  years  after  this  period.  Those  things  the 
Lord  was  pleased  to  discover  to  me  gradually.  I  learnt  them  here  a  little,  and 
there  a  little,  by  my  own  painful  experience,  at  a  distance  from  the  common 
means  and  ordinances,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  same  course  of  evil  company,  and 
bad  examples,  I  had  been  conversant  with  for  some  time. 

"  From  this  period  I  could  no  more  make  a  mock  of  sin,  or  jest  with  holy 
things ;  1  no  more  questioned  the  truth  of  Scripture,  or  lost  a  sense  of  the  re- 
bukes of  conscience.  Therefore  I  consider  this  as  the  beginning  of  my  return 
to  God,  or  rather  of  his  return  to  me  ;  but  I  cannot  consider  myself  to  have  been, 
a  believer,  (in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,)  till  a  considerable  time  afterwards." 

While  the  ship  was  refitting  at  Lough  Swilly,  Mr.  N.  repaired  to  London- 
derry, where  he  soon  recruited  his  health  and  strength.  He  was  now  a  serious 
rofessor,  went  twice  a  day  to  the  prayers  at  church,  and  determined  to  receive 
he  sacrament  the  next  opportunity.  When  the  day  came,  he  arose  very  early, 
was  very  earnest  in  his  private  devotions,  and  solemnly  engaged  himself  to^the 
Lord ;  not  with  a  formal,  but  sincere  surrender,  and  under  a  strong  sense  of  the 
mercies  lately  received.  Having,  however,  as  yet  but  an  imperfect  knowledge 
of  his  own  heart,  and  of  the  subtlety  of  Satan's  temptations,  he  was  afterwards- 
seduced  to  forget  the  vows  of  God  that  were  upon  him.  Yet  he  felt  a  peace 
and  satisfaction  in  the  ordinance  of  that  day,  to  which  he  had  been  hitherto  an. 
utter  stranger. 

The  next  day  he  went  abroad  with  the  mayor  of  the  city,  and  some  gentlemen, 
shooting  ;  climbing  up  a  steep  bank,  and  pulling  his  fowling-piece  in  a  perpen- 
dicular direction  after  him,  it  went  off  so  near  his  face  as  to  destroy  the  corner 
of  his  hat.  The  remark  he  makes  on  this  ought  not  to  be  omitted:  "  Thus, 
when  we  think  ourselves  in  the  greatest  safety,  we  are  no  less  exposed  to  dan- 
ger, than  when  all  the  elements  seem  conspiring  to  destroy  us.  The  divine 
Providence,  which  is  sufficient  to  deliver  us  in  our  utmost  extremity,  is  equally 
necessary  to  our  preservation  in  the  most  peaceful  situation." 

During  their  stay  in  Ireland,  Mr.  N.  wrote  home.  The  vessel  he  was  in  had 
not  been  heard  of  for  eighteen  months,  and  was  given  up  for  lost.  His  father 
had  no  expectation  of  hearing  that  his  son  was  alive,  but  received  his  letter  a 
few  days  before  he  embarked  from  London  to  become  governor  of  York  Fort,  in 
Hudson's  Bay,  where  he  died.  He  intended  to  take  his  son  with  him,  had  he 
returned  to  England  in  time.  Mr.  N.  received  two  or  three  affectionate  letters 
from  his  father  ;  and  hoped,  that  in  three  years  more  he  should  have  had  the 
opportunity  of  asking  his  forgiveness,  for  the  uneasiness  his  disobedienct  nad 
occasioned  ;  but  the  ship  that  was  to  have  brought  his  father  home  came  without 
him.  It  appears  he  was  seized  with  the  cramp,  when  bathing,  and  was  drowned 
before  the  ship  arrived  in  the  Bay.  Before  his  father's  departure  from  Eng- 
land, he  had  paid  a  visit  in  Kent,  and  gave  his  consent  to  the  union  that  had 
been  so  long  talked  of. 

Mr.  N.  arrived  at  Liverpool  the  latter  end  of  May  I74S,  about  the  same  day 
that  his  father  sailed  from  the  Nore.  He  found,  however,  another  father  in  the 
gentleman  whose  ship  had  brought  him  home.  This  friend  received  him  with 
great  tenderness,  and  the  strongest  assurances  of  assistance  ;  yet  not  stronger  than 
he  afterwards  fulfilled:  for  to  this  instrument  of  God's  goodness  he  felt  he  owed 
every  thing.  "  Yet,"  as  Mr.  N.  justly  observes,  "  it  would  not  have  been  in 
the  power  even  of  this  friend  to  have  served  me  effectually,  if  the  Lord  had  not 
met  me  on  my  way  home,  as  I  have  related.  Till  then,  I  was  like  the  man  pos- 
sessed with  the  legion.  No  arguments,  no  persuasion,  no  views  of  interest,  no 
lemembrance  of  the  past,  nor  regard  to  the  future  could  have  restrained  m« 


MEMOIRS    or    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON.  25 

nithin  the  bounds  of  common  prudence;  but  now  I  was  in  some  measure  restored 
to  my  senses." 

This  friend  immediately  ofl'ered  Mr.  N.  the  command  of  a  ship,  wlii<h,  upon 
mature  consideration,  he  for  the  present  declined.  He  prudently  r()n>i(Ier»-d  that 
hitherto  he  ha(!  been  unsctth'd  and  carekss  ,  and  therefore  that  Ik-  liad  f)etter 
make  another  voyage,  and  learn  obedience  and  ac(juire  farther  <'Xj)eriencL'  in 
business,  before  he  ventured  to  undertake  such  a  clKir«^e.  Tlie  nuite  of  the  ves- 
sel in  whicli  he  came  liome  was  preferred  to  the  command  of  a  new  ship,  and 
Mr.  N.  en*?a«;ed  to  ^o  in  the  station  of  mate  with  liim. 

There  was  something  so  peculiar  in  Mr.  N.'s  case,  after  tins  extraordinary- 
deliverance,  and  because  others  in  like  circumstances  might  be  tempted  to  de- 
spair, that  I  think  it  proper  to  make  another  extract  from  his  Narrative,  as  such 
accounts  cannot  be  well  conveyed  but  in  his  own  words. 

"  We  must  not  make  the  experience  of  others  in  all  respects  a  rule  to  our- 
selves, nor  our  own  a  rule  to  others:  yet  these  are  common  mistakes,  and  pro- 
ductive of  many  more.  As  to  myself,  every  part  of  ray  case  has  been  extraordi- 
nary— I  have  hardly  met  a  single  instance  resembling  it.  Few,  very  few,  have 
been  recovered  from  such  a  dreadful  state  ;  and  the  few  that  have  been  thus  fa- 
voured, have  generally  passed  through  the  most  severe  convictions  :  and,  after 
the  Lord  has  given  them  peace,  their  future  lives  have  been  usually  more  zeal- 
ous, bright,  and  exemplary  than  common.  Xow,  as,  on  the  one  hand,  my  convictions 
were  very  moderate,  and  far  below  what  might  have  been  expected  from  the 
dreadful  review  I  had  to  make  ;  so,  on  the  other,  my  first  beginnings  in  a  re- 
ligious course  were  as  faint  as  can  be  well  imagined.  I  never  knew  that  season 
alluded  to,  Jer.  ii.  'Z  ;  Rev.  ii.  4,  usually  called  the  time  of  the  first  love.  Who 
would  not  expect  to  hear,  that,  after  such  a  wonderful  and  unhoped-for  deliver- 
ance as  I  had  received,  and  after  my  eyes  were  in  some  measure  enlightened  to 
see  things  aright,  I  should  immediately  cleave  to  the  Lord  and  his  ways  with 
full  purpose  of  heart,  and  consult  no  more  with  flesh  and  blood  ?  But,  alas !  it 
was  I'ar  otherwise  with  me  :  I  had  learned  to  pray  :  I  set  some  value  upon  the 
word  of  God  ;  and  was  no  longer  a  libertine  ;  but  my  soul  still  'cleaved  to  the 
dust.'  Soon  after  my  departure  from  Liverpool,  I  began  to  intermit  and  grow 
slack  in  waiting  upon  the  Lord :  I  grew  vain  and  trifling  in  my  conversation ; 
and  though  my  heart  smote  me  often,  yet  my  armour  was  gone,  and  I  declined 
fast :  and  by  the  time  we  arrived  at  Guinea,  I  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  the 
Lord's  mercies,  and  my  own  engagements,  and  was,  (profaneness  excepted,)  al- 
most as  bad  as  before.  The  enemy  prepared  a  train  of  temptations,  and  I  be- 
came his  easy  prey  ;  for  about  a  month  he  lulled  me  asleep  in  a  course  of  evil, 
of  which,  a  few  months  before,  I  could  not  have  supposed  myself  any  longer  ca- 
pable. How  much  propriety  is  there  in  the  apostle's  advice,  '  Take  heed  lest 
any  of  you  be  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness  of  sin.'  " 

In  this  voyage  Mr.  N.'s  business,  while  upon  the  coast,  was  to  sail  in  the  long 
boat,  from  place  to  place,  in  order  to  purchase  slaves.  The  ship,  at  this  time, 
was  at  Sierra  Leone,  and  he  at  the  Plantanes,  the  scene  of  his  former  captivity, 
and  where  every  thing  he  saw  tended  to  remind  him  of  his  present  ingratitude. 
He  was  now  in  easy  circumstances,  and  courted  by  those  who  had  once  despised 
him.  The  lime-trees  he  had  formerly  planted,  were  growing  tall  and  promised 
fruit,  upon  his  expected  return  with  a  ship  of  his  own.  Unaffected,  however, 
with  these  things,  he  needed  another  providential  interposition  to  rouse  him  ; 
and  accordingly  he  was  visited  with  a  violent  fever,  which  broke  the  fatal  chain, 
and  once  more  brought  him  to  himself.  Alarmed  at  the  prospect  before  him,  he 
thought  himself  now  summoned  away.  The  dangers  and  deliverances  through 
which  he  had  passed — his  earnest  prayers  in  the  time  of  trouble — his  solemn 
vows  before  the  Lord  at  his  table — and  his  ungrateful  returns  for  all  his  goodness 
— were  present  at  once  to  his  mind.  He  began  then  to  wish  that  he  had  sunk  in 
the  ocean,  when  he  first  cried  for  mercy.  For  a  short  time  he  concluded  that  the 
door  of  hope  was  quite  shut.  Weak,  and  almost  delirious,  he  arose  from  his  bed 
D 


26  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOHN    NEWTON. 

crept  to  a  retired  part  of  the  island,  and  here  found  a  renewed  liberty  in  prayer; 
daring  to  make  no  more  resolves,  he  cast  himself  upon  the  Lord,  to  do  with  him 
as  he  should  please.  It  does  not  appear  that  any  thing  new  was  presented  to 
his  mind,  but  that,  in  general,  he  was  enabled  to  hope  end  believe  in  a  crucified 
Saviour. 

After  this,  the  burthen  was  removed  from  his  conscience,  and  not  only  his 
peace,  but  his  health  was  gradually  restored,  when  he  returned  to  the  ship. 
And  though  subject  to  the  efforts  and  conflicts  of  sin,  dwelling  in  him,  he  was 
ever  after  delivered  from  the  power  and  dominion  of  it. 

His  leisure  hours  in  this  voyage  were  chiefly  employed  in  acquiring  Latin, 
which  he  had  now  almost  forgotten.  This  desire  took  place  from  an  imitation 
he  had  seen  of  one  of  Horace's  Odes  in  a  Magazine.  In  this  attempt  at  one  of 
the  most  difficult  of  the  poets,  he  had  no  other  help  than  an  old  English  translation, 
with  Castalio's  Latin  Bible.  He  had  the  edition  in  usum  Delphini,  and,  by  com- 
paring the  odes  with  the  interpretation,  and  tracing  such  words  as  he  understood 
from  place  to  place  by  the  index,  together  with  what  assistance  he  could  get 
from  the  Latin  Bible,  he  thus,  by  dint  of  hard  industry,  made  some  progress. 
He  not  only  understood  the  sense  of  many  odes,  and  some  of  the  epistles,  but 
"  I  began,"  says  he,  "  to  relish  the  beauties  of  the  composition  ;  acquired  a  spice 
of  what  Mr.  Law  calls,  '  classical  enthusiasm;'  and,  indeed,  by  this  means  I  had 
Horace  more  ad  unguem  than  some  who  are  masters  of  the  Latin  tongue  ;  for 
my  helps  were  so  few,  that  I  generally  had  the  passage  fixed  in  my  memory  be- 
fore I  could  fully  understand  its  meaning." 

During  the  eight  months  they  were  employed  upon  the  coast,  Mr.  N.'s  busi- 
ness exposed  him  to  innumerable  dangers  from  burning  suns,  chilling  dews, 
winds,  rains,  and  thunder  storms,  in  an  open  boat ;  and  on  shore,  from  long 
journeys  through  the  woods,  and  from  the  natives,  who  in  many  places  are 
cruel,  treacherous,  and  watching  opportunities  for  mischief.  Several  boats, 
during  this  time,  were  cut  off,  several  white  men  poisoned,  and  from  his  own 
boat  he  buried  six  or  seven  people,  with  fevers ;  when  going  on  shore,  or  re- 
turning, he  was  more  than  once  overset  by  the  violence  of  the  surf,  and  brought 
to  land  half  dead,  as  he  could  not  swim.  Among  a  number  of  such  escapes,  which 
remained  upon  his  memory,  the  following  will  mark  the  singular  providence  that 
was  over  him  : — 

On  finishing  their  trade,  and  being  about  to  sail  to  the  West  Indies,  the  only 
service  Mr.  N.  had  to  perform  in  the  boat,  was  to  assist  in  bringing  the  wood 
and  water  from  the  shore.  They  were  then  at  Rio  Cestors.  He  used  to  go  into 
the  river,  in  the  afternoon,  with  the  sea-breeze,  to  procure  his  lading  in  the 
evening,  in  order  to  return  on  board  in  the  morning  with  the  land-wind.  Se- 
veral of  these  little  voyages  he  had  made  ;  but  the  boat  was  grown  old,  and  al- 
most unfit  for  use ;  this  service  likewise  was  almost  completed.  One  day,  hav- 
ing dined  on  board,  he  was  preparing  to  return  to  the  river  as  formerly — he  had 
taken  leave  of  the  captain — received  his  orders — was  already  in  the  boat — and 
just  going  to  put  off;  in  that  instant  the  captain  came  up  from  the  cabin,  and 
called  him  on  board  again.  Mr.  N.  went,  expecting  farther  orders,  but  the  cap- 
tain said,  "  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head,"  (as  he  phrased  it,)  that  Mr.  N. 
should  remain  that  day  in  the  ship,  and  accordingly  ordered  another  man  to  go 
in  his  room.  Mr.  N.  was  surprised  at  this,  as  the  boat  had  never  been  sent 
away  without  him  before.  He  asked  the  captain  the  reason  of  his  resolution, 
but  none  was  assigned,  except  as  above,  that  so  he  would  have  it.  The  boat 
therefore  went  without  Mr.  N.,  but  returned  no  more  :  it  sunk  that  night  in  the 
river ;  and  the  person  who  supplied  Mr.  N.'s  place  was  drowned !  Mr.  N. 
was  much  struck  when  news  of  the  event  was  received  the  next  morning 
The  captain  himself,  though  quite  a  stranger  to  religion,  even  to  the  denying  a 
particular  providence,  could  not  help  being  affected  ;  but  declared,  that  he  had 
DO  other  reason  for  countermanding  Mr.  N.  at  that  time,  but  that  it  came  sud- 
denly into  his  mind  to  detain  him. 


MEMOIRS  OF  TIIK   KKV.   JolIN    NKWTON.  27 

A  short  time  afltr  he  wus  thus  siirprisiji^ly  pnst'rved,  tliry  sailt-d  for  Antif^na, 
and  from  thunre  to  Charleston,  in  South  ("arolina.  In  that  phico  then*  were 
many  serious  peoph'  ;  but,  at  this  time,  Mr.  N.  was  little;  eapahle  of  availing 
himsfjf  of  tlu'ir  society,  supposing;  that  all  who  attended  puhlie  worship  wer»r 
^ood  Christians,  ami  that  whatever  came  from  tlur  pul|)it  must  he  very  (»ood.  He 
liad  two  or  tiirei-  opj)ortunilies,  indeed,  of  hearinp;  a  minister  of  «'minent  character 
and  ^'\i\s,  whom,  thou^li  struck  with  his  manner,  he  did  not  rij^litly  un(l«-rstand. 
Almost  every  dav,  when  business  would  perniit,  he  used  to  retire  into  the  woods 
and  fields,  (beini;  his  favourite  oratories,)  and  be<;an  to  taste  the  deli;;ht  of  com- 
munion with  Cod,  in  the  exercises  of  prayer  and  praise  ;  and  yet  so  much  in- 
consistency prevailed,  that  he  frecjuently  sj)ent  the  evening  in  vain  and  worthless 
company.  His  relish,  indeed,  for  worldly  diversions  was  much  weakened  ;  and 
he  was  rather  a  sjxctator  than  a  sharer  in  their  pleasures  ;  but  he  did  not  as  yet 
see  the  necessity  of  absolutely  relinquishin<j;  such  society.  It  appears,  that  com- 
pliances of  this  sort,  in  his  present  circumstances,  were  owing  rather  to  a  want 
of  lijjjht  than  to  any  obstinate  attachment :  as  he  was  kept  from  w  hat  he  knew 
to  be  sinful,  he  had,  for  the  most  part,  peace  of  conscience;  and  his  strongest 
desires  were  towards  the  things  of  God.  He  did  not  as  yet  apprehend  the  force  of 
that  precept,  "  Abstain  from  all  appearance  of  evil  ;"  but  he  very  often  ventured 
upon  the  brink  of  temptation.  He  did  not  break  with  the  world  at  once,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  but  was  gradually  led  to  see  the  inconvenience  and 
folly  of  first  one  thing  and  then  another,  and  as  such  to  give  them  up. 

They  finished  tlieir  voyage,  and  arrived  in  Liverpool.  When  the  ship's  aflfairs 
were  settled,  Mr.  N.  went  to  London,  and  from  thence  he  soon  repaired  to  Kent. 
More  than  seven  years  had  now  elapsed  since  his  first  visit :  no  views  of  the 
kind  seemed  more  chimerical  than  his,  or  could  subsist  under  greater  discourage- 
ments ;  yet  while  he  seemed  abandoned  to  his  passions,  he  was  still  guided  by  a 
hand  that  he  knew  not,  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  wishes.  Every  obstacle 
was  now  removed — he  had  renounced  his  former  follies — his  interest  was  estab- 
lished— and  friends  on  all  sides  consenting.  The  point  w^as  now  entirely  be- 
tween the  parties  immediately  concerned  ;  and  after  what  had  passed,  was 
easily  concluded  ;  accordingly  their  hands  were  joined,  February  the  1st,  1750. 

"  But,  alas  !"  says  he,  "  this  mercy,  which  raised  me  to  all  I  could  ask  or  wish 
in  a  temporal  view,  and  which  ought  to  have  been  an  animating  motive  to  obe- 
dience and  praise,  had  a  contrary  effect :  I  rested  in  the  gift  and  forgot  the  giver. 
My  poor  narrow  heart  was  satisfied.  A  cold  and  careless  frame  as  to  spiritual 
things,  took  place,  and  gained  ground  daily.  Happy  for  me,  the  season  was  ad- 
vancing ;  and  in  June  I  received  orders  to  repair  to  Liverpool.  This  roused 
me  from  my  dream  ;  and  I  found  the  pains  of  absence  and  separation  fully  pro- 
portioned to  my  preceding  pleasure.*  Through  all  my  following  voyages,  my 
irregular  and  excessive  affections  were  as  thorns  in  my  eyes,  and  often  made  my 
other  blessings  tasteless  and  insipid.  But  he,  who  doth  all  things  well,  over- 
ruled this  likewise  for  good  ;  it  became  an  occasion  of  quickening  me  in  prayer, 
both  for  her  and  myself;  it  increased  my  indifference  for  company  and  amuse- 

*  In  writing  to  Mrs.  Newton  from  St.  Alban's,  he  inserts  a  prayer  for  his  own  hcaltli  and  that  of 
Mrs.  N.,  upon  which  he  remarks  as  follows  : — 

"  This  prayer  includes  all  that  I  at  that  time  knew  how  to  ask  for;  and  had  not  the  Lord  given  mc 
more  than  I  knew  how  to  ask  or  think,  I  should  now  be  completely  miserable.  The  prospect  of  this 
separation  was  terrible  to  me  as  death :  to  avoid  it,  I  repeatedly  purchased  a  ticket  in  the  lottery : 
thinking,  '  Who  knows  but  I  may  obtain  a  considerable  prize,  and  be  thereby  saved  from  the  necessity 
of  going  to  sea  ?'  Happy  for  me.  the  lot,  which  I  then  considered  as  casual,  was  at  thy  disposal.  The 
money,  which  I  could  not  with  prudence  have  spared  at  the  time,  was  lost :  all  my  tickets  proved 
blanks,  though  I  attempted  to  bribe  thee,  by  promising,  if  I  succeeded,  to  give  a  considerable  part  to 
the  poor.  But  these  blanks  were  truly  prizes.  Thy  mercy  sent  mc  to  soa  against  my  own  will.  To 
thy  blessing,  and  to  ray  soHtary  sea-hours,  I  was  indebted  for  all  my  temporal  comforts  and  future 
hopes. 

"  Thou  wert  pleased  likewise  to  disappoint  me,  by  thy  providence,  of  some  money,  which  I  expected 
to  receive  on  my  marriage ;  so  that,  excepting  our  apparel,  when  I  sailed  from  Liverpool  on  my  first 
voyage,  the  sum  total  of  my  worldly  inventory  was — seventy  pounds  in  debt." 


28  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    RKV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

ment ,  it  habituated  me  to  a  kind  of  voluntary  self-denial,  which  I  was  after 
wards  taught  to  improve  to  a  better  purpose." 

Mr.  N.  sailed  from  Liverpool,  in  August  1750,  commander  of  a  good  ship. 
He  had  now  the  command  and  care  of  thirty  persons :  he  endeavoured  to  treat 
them  with  humanity,  and  to  set  them  a  good  example.*  He  likewise  established 
public  worship,  according  to  the  Liturgy  of  the  church  of  England,  officiating 
himself  twice  every  Lord's  day.  He  did  not  proceed  farther  than  this  while  he 
continued  in  that  occupation. 

Having  now  much  leisure,  he  prosecuted  the  study  of  Latin  with  good  success. 
He  remembered  to  take  a  Dictionary  this  voyage,  and  added  Juvenal  to  Horace  ; 
and,  for  prose  authors,  Livy,  Caesar,  and  Sallust.  He  was  not  aware  of  the  mis- 
take of  beginning  with  such  difficult  writers  ;  but,  having  heard  Livy  highly 
commended,  he  was  resolved  to  understand  him :  he  began  with  the  first  page, 
and  made  it  a  rule  not  to  proceed  to  a  second  till  he  understood  the  first.  Often 
at  a  stand,  but  seldom  discouraged,  here  and  there  he  found  a  few  lines  quite 
obstinate,  and  was  forced  to  give  them  up,  especially  as  his  edition  had  no  notes. 
Before,  however,  the  close  of  that  voyage,  he  informs  us,  that  he  could,  with  a 
few  exceptions,  read  Livy  almost  as  readily  as  an  English  author.  Other  prose 
authors,  he  says,  cost  him  but  little  trouble,  as  in  surmounting  the  former  diffi- 
culty he  had  mastered  all  in  one.  In  short,  in  the  space  of  two  or  three  voyages, 
he  became  acquainted  with  the  best  classics.  He  read  Terence,  Virgil,  several 
pieces  of  Cicero,  and  the  modern  classics,  Buchanan,  Erasmus,  and  Casimir  ;  and 
made  some  essays  towards  wTiting  elegant  Latin. 

"But  by  this  time,"  he  observes,  "the  Lord  was  pleased  to  draw  me  nearer 
to  himself,  and  to  give  me  a  fuller  vi-ew  of  the  pearl  of  great  price,  the  inestima- 
ble treasure  hid  in  the  field  of  the  Holy  Scriptures;  and  for  the  sake  of  this  I 
was  made  willing  to  part  with  all  my  newly-acquired  riches.  I  began  to  think, 
that  life  was  too  short  (especially  my  life,)  to  admit  of  leisure  for  such  elaborate 
trifling.  Neither  poet  nor  historian  could  tell  me  a  word  of  Jesus  ;  and  I  there- 
fore applied  myself  to  those  w4io  could.  The  classics  were  at  first  restrained  to 
one  morning  in  the  w^eek,  and  at  length  laid  aside." 

This  his  first  voyage  after  his  marriage  lasted  the  space  of  fourteen  months, 
through  various  scenes  of  danger  and  difficulty  ;  but  nothing  very  remarkable  oc- 
curred ;  and,  after  having  seen  many  fall  on  his  right  hand  and  on  his  left,  he  was 
brought  home  in  peace,  Nov.  2,  175L 

In  the  interval,  between  his  first  and  second  voyage,  he  speaks  of  the  use  he 
found  in  keeping  a  sort  of  diary,  of  the  unfavourable  tendency  of  a  life  of  ease 
among  his  friends,  and  of  the  satisfaction  of  his  wishes  proving  unfavourable  to 
the  progress  of  grace  ;  upon  the  whole,  however,  he  seems  to  have  gained 
ground,  and  was  led  into  farther  vie\vs  of  Christian  doctrine  and  experience  by 
Scougal's  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of 'Man,  Hervey's  Meditations,  and  the  Life 
of  Colonel  Gardiner.  He  seems  to  have  derived  no  advantages  from  the  preach- 
ing he  heard,  or  the  Christian  acquaintance  he  made  ;  and  though  he  could 
not  live  without  prayer,  he  durst  not  propose  it,  even  to  his  wife,  till  she  first 
urged  him  to  the  mutual  practice  of  it. 

In  a  few^  months,  the  returning  season  called  him  abroad  again,  and  he  sailed 
from  Liverpool,  in  a  new  ship,  July  17o'2.t  "  I  never  knew,"  says  he,  "  sweeter 
or  more  frequent  hours  of  Divine  communion  than  in  my  two  last  voyages  to 
Guinea,  when  I  was  either  almost  secluded  from  society  on  shipboard,  or  when 

"  *  I  have  heard  Mr.  Newton  observe,  that  as  the  commander  of  a  slave-ship,  he  had  a  number  of 
women  under  his  absolute  command ;  and  knowing  the  danger  of  his  situation  on  that  account,  he 
resolved  to  abstain  from  flesh  in  his  food,  and  to  drink  nothing  stronger  than  water,  during  the  voyage  ;^ 
that,  by  abstemiousness,  he  might  subdue  every  improper  emotion :  and  that,  upon  his  setting  sail,  the 
sight  of  a  certain  jwint  of  land  was  the  signal  for  his  l>eginning  a  rule,  which  he  was  enabled  to  keep, 

■f  Mr.  N.  had  had  an  unexpected  call  to  London  ;  and,  on  his  return,  when  within  a  few  miles  of  Liver- 
pool, he  mistook  a  marl-pit  for  a  jwnd,  and,  in  attempting  to  water  his  horse,  both  the  horse  and  the 
rider  plunged  into  it  ovcrheatl  He  was  afterwards  toKl,~that,  near  that  time,  three  persons  had  loet 
their  lives  by  a.  mistake  of  the  same  kind. 


MEMOIRS  OF    rilK   KKV.   JOHN    NF.WTON.  29 

on  short'  amonj;  the  natives.  I  have  wandered  thronph  the  woods,  rrflrctinp;  on 
the  siiiojulur  tjoodness  of  the  Lord  to  me,  in  a  place  where,  |)»*rhaps,  there  wa* 
not  a  person  who  knew  me  for  some  thousand  miles  round.  Many  a  time,  upon 
these  oceasions,  I  have  restored  the  heautiful  lines  of  l*ropertius  to  the  rij!;ht 
owner;  lines  full  of  blaspliemy  and  madness  when  addressed  to  a  creature,  but 
fVill  of  comfort  and  propriety  in  the  mouth  of  a  believer. 


Sic  e^o  doaertis  possim  bonft  vivpre  gylvis, 
Q.UO  nulla  huniano  sit  via  trita  jxide  ; 

Tu  niifii  ruraruni  rnjuit's,  in  iiocte  vol  artra 
Luinon,  et  in  solis  tu  uiihi  turba  locis. 


PARAPHRASRD. 

In  desert  woods,  with  thee,  my  God, 
Whore  human  footsteps  never  trod, 

How  happy  could  I  be  ! 
Thou  my  re[)osc  from  care,  my  light 
Amidst  the  darkness  of  the  night, 

In  solitude  my  company." 


In  the  course  of  this  voyage,  Mr.  N.  was  wonderfully  preserved  through 
many  unforeseen  dangers.  At  one  time  there  was  a  conspiracy  among  his  own 
people  to  become  pirates,  and  take  possession  of  the  ship.  When  the  plot  was 
nearly  ripe,  they  watched  only  for  opportunity  :  two  of  them  were  taken  ill  in 
one  day  ;  one  of  them  died.  This  suspended  the  affair,  and  opened  a  way  to 
its  discovery.  The  slaves  on  board  frequently  plotted  insurrections,  and  were 
sometimes  upon  the  very  brink  of  one  when  it  was  disclosed.  When  at  a  place 
called  Mana,  near  Cape  Mount,  Mr.  N.  intended  to  go  on  shore  the  next  morn- 
ing to  settle  some  business;  but  the  surf  of  the  sea  ran  so  high,  that  he  was  afraid 
to  attempt  landing.  He  had  often  ventured  at  a  worse  time  ;  but  then  feeling  a 
backwardness  which  he  could  not  account  for,  the  high  surf  furnished  a  pretext 
for  indulging  it:  he  therefore  returned  to  the  ship  without  doing  any  business. 
He  afterwards  found,  that,  on  the  day  he  intended  to  land,  a  scandalous  and 
groundless  charge  had  been  laid  against  him,  which  greatly  threatened  his  honour 
and  interest,  both  in  Africa  and  England,  and  w^ould  perhaps  have  affected  his 
life,  had  he  landed.  The  person  most  concerned  in  this  affair  owed  him  about 
a  hundred  pounds,  which  he  sent  in  a  huff,  and  otherwise,  perhaps,  would  not 
have  paid  it  at  all.  Mr.  N.  heard  no  more  of  this  accusation  till  the  next  voyage, 
and  then  it  w^as  publicly  acknowledged  to  have  been  a  malicious  calumny,  with- 
out the  least  shadow  of  a  ground. 

But,  as  these  things  did  not  occur  every  day,  Mr.  N.  prosecuted  his  Latin, 
being  very  regular  in  the  management  of  his  time.  He  allotted  about  eight 
hours  for  sleep  and  meals,  eight  hours  for  exercise  and  devotion,  and  eight  hours 
to  his  books ;  and  thus,  by  diversifying  his  engagements,  the  whole  day  was 
agreeably  filled  up. 

From  the  coast  he  went  to  St.  Christopher's,  where  he  met  with  a  great  dis- 
appointment :  for  the  letters,  which  he  expected  from  Mrs.  N.,  were  by  mistake 
forwarded  to  Antigua.  Certain  of  her  punctuality  in  writing,  if  alive,  he  con- 
cluded by  not  hearing  from  her,  that  she  was  surely  dead.  This  fear  deprived 
him  of  his  appetite  and  rest,  caused  an  incessant  pain  in  his  stomach,  and,  in  the 
space  of  three  weeks,  he  was  near  sinking  under  the  weight  of  an  imaginary 
stroke.  "  I  felt,"  says  he,  "  some  severe  symptoms  of  that  mixture  of  pride  and 
madness,  commonly  called  a  broken  heart ;  and,  indeed,  I  wonder  that  this  case  is 
not  more  common.  How  often  do  the  potsherds  of  the  earth  presume  to  contend 
with  their  Maker  !  and  what  a  wonder  of  mercy  is  it  that  they  are  not  all  broken  ! 
This  was  a  sharp  lesson,  but  I  hope  it  did  me  good ;  and  when  I  had  thus  suf- 
fered some  weeks,  I  thought  of  sending  a  small  vessel  to  Antigua.  I  did  so,  and 
she  brought  me  several  packets,  which  restored  my  health  and  peace,  and  gave 


30  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV      JOHN    NEWTON. 

me  a  strong  contrast  of  the  Lord's  goodness  to  me,  and  of  my  unbelief  and  in- 
gratitude towards  him." 

In  August,  1753,  Mr.  N.  returned  to  Liverpool :  after  that  voyage,  he  con- 
tinued only  six  weeks  at  home,  and,  in  that  space,  nothing  very  memorable 
occurred. 

We  now  follow  Mr.  N.  in  his  third  voyage  to  Guinea:  it  seems  to  be  the 
shortest  of  any  that  he  had  made,  and  which  is  principally  marked  by  an  account 
of  a  young  man,  who  had  formerly  been  a  midshipman,  and  his  intimate  com- 
panion on  board  the  Harwich.  This  youth,  at  the  time  Mr.  N.  first  knew  him, 
was  sober,  but  afterwards  sadly  infected  with  Mr.  N.'s  then  libertine  principles. 
They  met  at  Liverpool,  and  renewed  their  former  acquaintance :  as  their  con- 
versation frequently  turned  upon  religion,  Mr.  N.  was  very  desirous  to  recover 
his  companion,  to  whom  he  gave  a  plain  account  of  the  manner  and  reasons  of 
his  own  change,  and  used  every  argument  to  induce  him  to  relinquish  his  infi- 
delity. When  pressed  very  close,  his  usual  reply  was,  that  Mr.  I^ .  was  the  first 
person  who  had  given  him  an  idea  of  his  liberty,  which  naturally  occasioned 
many  mournful  reflections  in  the  mind  of  his  present  instructor.  This  person 
was  going  master  to  Guinea  himself;  but,  meeting  with  a  disappointment,  Mr. 
N.  offered  to  take  him  as  a  companion,  with  a  view  of  assisting  him  in  gaining 
future  employment ;  but,  principally,  that  his  arguments,  example,  and  prayers, 
might  be  attended  with  good  effect.  But  his  companion  was  exceedingly  pro- 
fane ;  grew  worse  and  worse ;  and  presented  a  lively,  but  distressing  picture, 
continually  before  Mr.  N.'s  eyes,  of  what  he  himself  had  once  been.  Besides 
this,  the  man  was  not  only  deaf  to  remonstrance  himself,  but  laboured  to  coun- 
teract Mr.  N.'s  influence  upon  others;  his  spirit  and  passions  were  likewise  so 
exceedingly  high,  that  it  required  all  Mr.  N.'s  prudence  and  authority  to  hold 
him  in  any  degree  of  restraint. 

At  length  Mr.  N.  had  an  opportunity  of  buying  a  small  vessel,  which  he  sup- 
plied with  a  cargo  from  his  own  ship :  he  gave  his  companion  the  command  of 
it ;  and  sent  him  away  to  trade  on  the  ship's  account.  When  they  parted,  Mr. 
N.  repeated  and  enforced  his  best  advice :  it  seemed  greatly  to  affect  his  com- 
panion at  the  time ;  but  when  he  found  himself  released  from  the  restraint  of 
his  instructor,  he  gave  a  loose  to  every  appetite ;  and  his  violent  irregularities, 
joined  to  the  heat  of  the  climate,  soon  threw  him  into  a  malignant  fever,  which 
carried  him  off  in  a  few  days.  He  seems  to  have  died  convinced,  but  not 
changed  :  his  rage  and  despair  struck  those  who  were  about  him  with  horror  : 
and  he  pronounced  his  own  fatal  doom  before  he  expired,  without  any  sign  that 
he  either  hoped  or  asked  for  mercy. — I  trust  the  reader  will  deem  the  features 
of  this  awful  case  (though  a  digression  from  the  principal  subject)  too  instructive 
to  be  omitted. 

Mr.  N.  left  the  coast  in  about  four  months,  and  sailed  for  St.  Christopher's. 
Hitherto,  he  had  enjoyed  a  perfect  and  equal  state  of  health  in  different  climates 
for  several  years.  But  in  this  passage  he  was  visited  with  a  fever,  which  gave 
him  a  very  near  prospect  of  eternity :  he  was,  however,  supported  in  a  silent 
composure  of  spirit  by  the  faith  of  Jesus,  and  found  great  relief  from  those  words, 
*'  He  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost."  He  was  for  a  while  troubled,  whether 
by  a  temptation,  or  by  the  fever  disordering  his  faculties,  that  he  should  be  lost 
or  overlooked  amidst  the  myriads  that  are  continually  entering  the  unseen  world  ; 
but  the  recollection  of  that  Scripture,  "the  Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his,'* 
put  an  end  to  his  doubts.  After  a  few  days,  however,  he  began  to  amend,  and 
by  the  time  they  arrived  in  the  West  Indies,  he  was  perfectly  recovered. 

In  this  way  he  was  led  for  about  the  space  of  six  years:  he  had  learnt  some- 
thing of  the  evil  of  his  heart — had  read  the  Bible  over  and  over — had  perused 
several  religious  books — and  had  a  general  view  of  Gospel  truth  :  but  his  con- 
ceptions still  remained  confused  in  many  respects,  not  having,  in  all  this  time, 
met  with  one  acquaintance  qualified  to  assist  his  inquiries. 

On  his  arrival  at  St.  Christopher's,  he  found  a  captain  of  a  ship  from  London, 


MEMOIRfl    OF    TMK    UKV.    JOIIS    NICWTON.  81 

ft  man  of  experience  in  tlu*  thinj^s  of  God.  For  ruar  a  njoiilli,  they  spent  rvery 
evening  t()<;ether  on  board  each  otlur's  ship  altcnuittly  :  jjroioni^iiij;  ihrir  v  i^itji 
till  near  day-hreak.  While  Mr.  N.  was  an  ea<;er  reeipicnt,  his  eornpauion's  dis- 
eourse  not  oidy  informed  his  underslaiidin^.  hut  iiillained  his  hrart — eFieoiiru^rd 
him  in  attemptinyj  social  prayer — taiio;ht  him  tlu^  advunta^t;  of  (Jliristian  converse 
— put  him  upon  an  attempt  to  make  his  |)rofession  more  public,  and  to  venture 
to  speak  for  (lod.  His  eoiiceptioiis  now  became  mori?  clear  and  evangelical  ;  he 
was  delivered  from  a  fear  which  had  lonj^  troubled  him,  of  relapsing;  into  his  for- 
mer apostacv  ;  and  tau<j:ht  to  expect  preservation,  not  from  his  own  power  and 
holiness,  but  from  the  power  and  promise  of  God.  From  this  friend  he  likewise 
received  a  <;eneral  view  of  the  present  state  of  relij^ion,  and  of  the  prevailing 
errors  and  controversies  of  the  times,  and  a  direction  where  to  incpiire  in  Lon- 
don for  further  instruction.  Mr.  N.'s  passage  homewards  gave  him  leisure 
to  digest  w  hat  he  Iiad  received  :  and  he  arrived  safely  at  Liverpool,  August 
1754.* 

His  stay  at  home,  however,  was  intended  to  be  but  short ;  and  by  the  begin- 
ning of  November  he  was  ready  again  for  the  sea.  But  the  Lord  saw  fit  to  over- 
rule liis  design.  It  seems,  from  the  account  he  gives,  that  he  had  not  the  least 
scruple  as  to  the  lawfulness  of  the  slave-trade  :  he  regarded  it  as  the  appointment 
of  Providence  :  he  considered  this  employment  as  respectable  and  profitable  ;  yet 
he  could  not  help  thinking  himself  a  sort  of  gaoler,  and  was  sometimes  shocked 
with  an  employment  so  conversant  with  chains,  bolts,  and  shackles.  On  this 
account  he  had  often  prayed  that  he  might  be  fixed  in  a  more  humane  profes- 
sion, where  he  might  enjoy  more  frequent  communion  with  the  people  and  ordi- 
nances of  God ;  and  be  freed  from  those  long  domestic  separations,  which  he 
found  so  hard  to  bear.  His  prayers  were  now  answered,  though  in  an  unex- 
pected way. 

JNIr.  N.  was  within  two  days  of  sailing,  and  in  apparent  good  health ;  but  as 
he  was  one  afternoon  drinking  tea  with  Mrs.  N.  he  was  seized  with  a  fit,  which 
deprived  him  of  sense  and  motion.  When  he  had  recovered  from  this  fit,  which 
lasted  about  an  hour,  it  left  a  pain  and  dizziness  in  his  head,  which  continued, 
with  such  symptoms,  as  induced  the  physicians  to  judge  it  would  not  be  safe  for 
him  to  proceed  on  the  voyage.  By  the  advice  of  a  friend,  therefore,  to  whom 
the  ship  belonged,  he  resigned  the  command  on  the  day  before  she  sailed  ;  and 
thus  he  was  not  only  freed  from  that  service,  but  from  the  future  consequences 
of  a  voyage  which  proved  extremely  calamitous.  The  person  who  went  in  his 
room,  died ;  as  did  most  of  the  officers,  and  many  of  the  crew. 

As  Mr.  N.  was  now  disengaged  from  business,  he  left  Liverpool,  and  spent 
most  of  the  following  year  in  London,  or  in  Kent  Here  he  entered  upon  a  new 
trial,  in  a  disorder  that  was  brought  upon  Mrs.  N.  from  the  shock  she  received 
in  his  late  illness ;  as  he  grew  better,  she  became  worse  with  a  disorder  which 
the  physicians  could  not  define,  nor  medicines  remove.  Mr.  N.  was  therefore 
placed  for  about  eleven  months  in  what  Dr.  Young  calls  the 

■Dreadful  post  of  observation, 


Darker  every  hour. 

*  Tn  a  MS.  note  on  a  letter  from  sea,  Mr.  Newton  remarks : — *'  I  now  enter  my  70th  year. 
Still  thou  art  singularly  Ixiuntiful  to  me  :  still  I  have  reason  to  think  myself  favoured,  as  to  externals, 
beyond  the  common  lot  of  mortals.  Thou  didst  bear  me  above  the  removal  of  her  I  most  valued,  to 
the  admiration  of  all  who  knew  me.  The  best  part  of  my  childhood  and  youth  was  vanity  and  folly  ; 
but,  before  I  attained  the  age  of  man,  I  became  exceedingly  vile  indeed ;  and  was  seated  in  the  chair 
of  the  scorner  in  early  life.  The  troubles  and  miseries  I  for  a  time  endured  were  my  own.  I  brought 
them  upon  myself,  by  forsaking  thy  good  and  pleasant  paths  ;  and  choosing  the  way  of  transgressors, 
which  I  found  very  hard;  they  led  to  slavery,  contempt,  famine,  and  despair. 

"  But  my  recovery  from  that  dreadful  state  was  wholly  of  thee.  Thou  didst  prepare  the  means,  un- 
thought  of  and  undesired  by  me.  How  nice  were  the  turns  upon  which  my  delivery  from  Africa  depend- 
ed! Had  the  ship  passed  one  quarter  of  an  hour  sooner,  I  had  died  there  a  wretch,  as  1  had  lived.  But 
thou  didst  pitv,  and  hear  my  first  lispings  in  prayer,  at  the  time  the  storm  fell  upon  me.  Thou  didst 
preserve  me  froin  sinking  and  starving.  Thus  I  returned  home,  and  thou  didst  provide  me  friends, 
when  1  was  destitute  and  a  stranger." 


32 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON, 


The  reader  will  ret-ollect,  that  Mr.  N.'s  friend  at  St.  Christopher's  had  giveti 
him  information  for  forming  a  religious  acquaintance  in  London ;  in  consequence 
of  which,  he  became  intimate  with  several  persons  eminent  for  that  character, 
and  profited  by  the  spiritual  advantages  which  a  great  city  affords  with  respect 
to  means.  When  he  was  in  Kent,  his  advantages  were  of  a  different  kind  ;  most 
of  his  time  he  passed  in  the  fields  and  woods.  "  It  has  been  my  custom,"  says  he, 
**  for  many  years,  to  perform  my  devotional  exercises  sub  dio  when  I  have  op- 
portunity, and  I  always  find  these  scenes  have  some  tendency  both  to  refresh  and 
compose  my  spirits.  A  beautiful,  diversified  prospect  gladdens  my  heart.  When 
I  am  withdrawn  from  the  noise  and  petty  works  of  men,  I  consider  myself  as  in 
the  great  temple,  which  the  Lord  has  built  for  his  own  honour." 

During  this  time  he  had  to  weather  two  trials,  the  principal  of  which  was 
Mrs.  N.'s  illness.  She  still  grew  worse,  and  he  had  daily  more  reason  to  fear 
that  hour  of  separation,  which  appeared  to  be  at  hand.  He  had  likewise  to  pro- 
vide some  future  settlement ;  the  African  trade  was  overdone  that  year,  and  his 
friends  did  not  care  to  fit  out  another  ship  till  that  which  had  been  his  returned. 
Though  a  provision  of  food  and  raiment  had  seldom  been  with  him  a  cause  of 
great  solicitude,  yet  he  was  some  time  in  suspense  on  this  account ;  but,  in  Au- 
gust following,  be  received  a  letter,  that  he  was  nominated  to  a  post,  which 
afTorded  him  a  competency,  both  unsought  and  unexpected. 

When  he  had  gained  this  point,  his  distress  respecting  Mrs.  N.  was  doubled ; 
he  was  obliged  to  leave  her  in  the  greatest  extremity  of  pain  and  illness ;  and 
when  he  had  no  hope  that  he  should  see  her  again  alive.  He  was,  however, 
enabled  to  resign  her  and  himself  to  the  divine  disposal ;  and,  soon  after  he  was 
gone,  she  began  to  amend,  and  recovered  so  fast,  that  in  about  two  months  he 
had  the  pleasure  to  meet  her  at  Stone,  on  her  journey  to  Liverpool. 

From  October  1755,  he  appears  to  have  been  comfortably  settled  at  Liverpool, 
and  mentions  his  having  received,  since  the  year  1757,  much  profit  from  his  ac- 
quaintance in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire.  "1  have  conversed,"  says  he, 
*'  at  large,  among  all  parties,  without  joining  any  ;  and  in  my  attempts  to  hit  the 
golden  mean,  I  have  been  sometimes  drawn  too  near  the  different  extremes  ;  yet 
the  Lord  has  enabled  me  to  profit  by  my  mistakes."  Being  at  length  placed  in 
a  settled  habitation,  and  finding  his  business  would  afford  him  much  leisure,  he 
considered  in  what  manner  he  could  improve  it.  Having  determined,  with  the 
apostle,  "  to  know  nothing  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified,"  he  devoted  his 
life  to  the  prosecution  of  spiritual  knowledge,  and  resolved  to  pursue  nothing  but 
in  subservience  to  this  design.  But  as  what  follows  will  appear  most  natural, 
and  must  be  better  expressed  in  his  own  words,  I  shall  transcribe  them  from  the 
conclusion  of  his  narrative. 

"  This  resolution,"  says  Mr.  N.,  "  divorced  me  (as  1  have  already  hinted)  from 
the  classics  and  mathematics.  My  first  attempt  was  to  learn  so  much  Greek  as 
would  enable  me  to  understand  the  New  Testament  and  Septuagint ;  and  when 
I  had  made  some  progress  this  way,  1  entered  upon  the  Hebrew  the  following 
year  ;  and  two  years  afterwards,  having  surmised  some  advantages  from  the  Syriac 
version,  I  began  with  that  language.  You  must  not  think  that  1  have  attained, 
or  even  aimed  at  a  critical  skill  in  any  of  these  ;  I  had  no  business  with  them, 
but  as  in  reference  to  something  else.  1  never  read  one  classic  author  in  the 
Greek  ;  I  thouglit  it  too  late  in  life  to  take  such  a  round  in  this  language  as  I 
had  done  in  the  Latin.  1  only  wanted  the  signification  of  scriptural  words  and 
phrases,  and  for  this  I  thought  1  might  avail  myself  of  Scapula,  the  Synopsis, 
and  others,  who  had  sustained  the  drudgery  before  me.  In  the  Hebrew,  1  can 
read  the  historical  books  and  Psalms  with  tolerable  ease  ;  but  in  the  prophetical 
and  difficult  parts,  I  am  frequently  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  Lexicons,  &c. 
However,  I  know  so  much  as  to  be  able,  with  such  helps  as  are  at  hand,  to  judge 
for  myself  the  meaning  of  any  passage  I  have  occasion  to  consult. 

"Together  with  these  studies,  I  have  kept  up  a  course  of  reading  the  best 
writers  in  Divinity,  that  have  come  to  my  hand,  in  the  Latin  and  English  tongues, 


MEMOIRS   OF  TlIK  RKV.   JOHN    NEWTON.  ,'J3 

and  some  French,  for  I  picked  up  the  French  iit  times  whih'  I  used  the  sv;\.  Hut 
within  these  two  or  three  years,  I  have  accustomed  myself  chiefly  to  writinp;,  and 
have  not  found  time  to  read  many  hooks  hesicU's  the  Scriptures. 

"  I  am  the  more  jiarticuhir  in  tliis  account,  as  my  ease  lias  hecn  something  sin 
gular ;   for  in  all  my  literary  attempts  1  have  ht'en  ohli^ed  to  strike  out  my  own 
path  by  the  lis^ht  I  could  accpiire  from  books,  as  1  have  not  had  a  teacher  or  assist- 
ant since  I  was  ten  years  of  a«;e. 

"  One  word  concerning;  my  views  to  the  ministry,  and  I  have  done.  I  have 
told  you,  that  this  was  my  dear  mother's  hope  concerning;  me  ;  but  her  death,  and 
the  scenes  of  life  in  which  I  afterwards  ensrafrcd,  seemed  to  cut  off  the  probability. 
Th€  first  desires  of  this  sort  in  my  own  mind,  arose  many  years  a^o,  from  re- 
flection on  Gal.  i.  H^^,  '21.  I  could  but  wish  for  such  a  public  opportunity  to  tes- 
tify the  riches  of  Divine  grace.  I  thought  I  was,  above  most  living,  a  fit  person 
to  proclaim  that  faithful  saying,  '  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save 
the  chief  of  sinners;'  and  as  my  life  had  been  full  of  remarkable  turns,  and  I 
seemed  selected  to  show  what  the  Lord  could  do,  I  was  in  some  hopes,  that  per- 
haps, sooner  or  later,  he  might  call  me  into  his  service. 

"  I  believe  it  was  a  distant  hope  of  this  that  determined  me  to  study  the  ori- 
ginal Scriptures  ;  but  it  remained  an  imperfect  desire  in  my  own  breast,  till  it  was 
recommended  to  me  by  some  Christian  friends.  I  started  at  the  thought  when 
first  seriously  proposed  to  me  ;  but,  afterwards,  set  apart  some  weeks  to  consider 
the  case,  to  consult  my  friends,  and  to  entreat  the  Lord's  direction.  The  judgment 
of  my  friends,  and  many  things  that  occurred,  tended  to  engage  me.  My  first 
•thought  was  to  join  the  Dissenters,  from  a  presumption  that  I  could  not  honestly 

make  the  required  subscriptions  ;  but  Mr.  C ,  in  a  conversation  upon  these 

points,  moderated  my  scruples  ;  and,  preferring  the  Established  Church  in  some 
respects,  I  accepted  a  title  from  him  some  months  afterwards,  and  solicited  ordi- 
nation from  the  late  Archbishop  of  York.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  met  a  refusal, 
nor  what  steps  I  took  afterwards  to  succeed  elsewhere.  At  present  I  desist  from 
any  applications.  My  desire  to  serve  the  Lord  is  not  weakened  ;  but  I  am  not 
so  hasty  to  push  myself  forward  as  I  was  formerly.  It  is  sufficient  that  he  knows 
how  to  dispose  of  me,  and  that  he  both  can  and  will  do  what  is  best.  To  him 
I  commend  myself:  I  trust  that  his  will  and  ray  true  interest  are  inseparable. 
To  his  name  be  glory  for  ever;  and  with  this  I  conclude  my  story." 

A  variety  of  remarks  occurred  to  me  while  abridging  the  narrative,  but  I  re- 
frained from  putting  them  down,  lest,  by  interrupting  its  course,  and  breaking 
the  thread  of  history,  I  should  rather  disgust  than  profit  the  reader.  I  have  heard 
Mr.  N.  relate  a  few  additional  particulars,  but  they  were  of  too  little  interest  to 
be  inserted  here  ;  they  went,  however,  like  natural  incidents,  to  a  farther  authen- 
tication of  the  above  account,  had  it  needed  any  other  confirmation  than  the 
solemn  declaration  of  the  pious  relator.  Romantic  relations,  indeed,  of  unprinci- 
pled travellers,  which  appear  to  have  no  better  basis  than  a  disposition  to  amuse 
credulity,  to  exhibit  vanity,  or  to  acquire  gain,  may  naturally  raise  suspicion  and 
produce  but  a  momentary  effect  at  most  on  the  mind  of  the  reader  ;  but  facts,  like 
the  present,  manifest  such  a  display  of  th*e  power,  providence,  and  grace  of  God; 
and  at  the  same  time  such  a  deep  and  humbling  view  of  human  depravity, 
when  moved  and  brought  forth  by  circumstances,  as  inexperience  can  scarcely 
■credit,  but  which  must  interest  the  eye  of  pious  contemplation,  and  open  a  new 
world  of  wonders. 

I  must  now  attempt  to  conduct  the  reader  without  the  he  p  of  Mr.  N.'s  ^iaI 
rative,  finished  Feb.  2,  1763  ;  to  which,  as  I  have  already  observed,  he  referred 
me  for  the  former  and  most  singular  part  of  his  life.  When  I  left  the  above  ac- 
count with  him  for  revision,  he  expressed  full  satisfaction  as  to  all  the  facts  re- 
lated ;  but  said,  he  thought  I  had  been  too  minute  even  in  the  abridgment,  since  the 
^Narrative  itself  had  been  long  before  the  public.  I  remarked,  in  reply,  that  the 
Narrative  contained  a  great  variety  of  facts — that  these  Memoirs  might  fall  into 
the  hands  of  persons  who  had  not  seen  the  Narrative — but  that  without  some 


34  MEMOIRS    OF   THE   REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

abridgment  of  it,  no  clear  view  could  be  formed  of  the  peculiarity  of  his  whole 
dispensation  and  character — and,  therefore,  that  such  an  abridgment  appeared  to 
be  absolutely  necessary,  and  that  he  had  recommended  it  at  my  first  undertaking 
the  work.  With  these  reasons  he  was  well  satisfied.  I  now  proceed  to  the  re- 
maining, though  less  remarkable  part  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Manesty,  who  had  long  been  a  faithful  and  generous  friend  of  Mr.  N. 
having  procured  him  the  place  of  tide-surveyor  in  the  port  of  Liverpool,  Mr.  N. 
gives  the  following  account  of  it ; — "  I  entered  upon  business  yesterday.  I  find 
my  duty  is  to  attend  the  tides  one  week,  and  visit  the  ships  that  arrive,  and  such 
as  are  in  the  river  ;  and  the  other  week  to  inspect  the  vessels  that  are  in  the  docks  ; 
and  thus  alternately  the  year  round.  The  latter  is  little  more  than  a  sinecure, 
but  the  former  requires  pretty  constant  attendance,  both  by  day  and  night.  I  have 
a  good  office, with  fire  and  candle,  and  fifty  or  sixty  people  under  my  direction; 
with  a  handsome  six-oared  boat  and  a  coxswain  to  row  me  about  in  form."* 

We  cannot  wonder  that  Mr.  N.  latterly  retained  a  strong  impression  of  a  par- 
ticular providence,  superintending  and  conducting  the  steps  of  man;  since  he 
was  so  often  reminded  of  it  in  his  own  history.  The  following  occurrence  is 
one  of  many  instances.  Mr.  N.  after  his  reformation,  was  remarkable  for  his 
punctuality :  I  remember  his  often  sitting  with  his  watch  in  his  hand  lest  he 
should  fail  in  keeping  his  next  engagement.  This  exactness  with  respect  to 
time,  it  seems,  was  his  habit  v/hile  occupying  his  post  at  Liverpool.  One  day, 
however,  some  business  had  so  detained  him,  that  he  came  to  his  boat  much 
later  than  usual,  to  the  surprise  of  those  who  had  observed  his  former  punctuality. 
He  went  out  in  the  boat  as  heretofore,  to  inspect  a  ship,  but  the  ship  blew  up 
just  before  he  reached  her :  it  appears,  that  if  he  had  left  the  shore  a  few 
minutes  sooner,  he  must  have  perished  with  the  rest  on  board. 

This  anecdote  I  had  from  a  clergyman,  upon  whose  word  I  can  depend,  who 
had  been  long  in  intimate  habits  with  Mr.  N.,  and  who  had  it  from  Mr.  N. 
himself:  the  reason  of  its  not  appearing  in  his  letters  from  Liverpool  to  Mrs.  N. 
I  can  only  suppose  to  be,  his  fearing  to  alarm  her  with  respect  to  the  dangers  of 
his  station.  But  another  providential  occurrence,  which  he  mentions  in  those 
letters,  I  shall  transcribe. 

"  When  I  think  of  my  settlement  here,  and  the  manner  of  it,  I  see  the  ap- 
pointment of  Providence  so  good  and  gracious,  and  such  a  plain  answer  to  my 
poor  prayers,  that  I  cannot  but  wonder  and  adore.  I  think  I  have  not  yet  told 
you,  that  my  immediate  predecessor  in  office,  Mr.  C — ,  had  not  the  least  inten- 
tion of  resigning  his  place  on  the  occasion  of  his  father's  death  ;  though  such  a 
report  was  spread  about  the  town  without  his  "knowledge,  or  rather  in  defiance 
of  all  he  could  say  to  contradict  it.  Yet  to  this  false  report  I  owe  my  situation. 
For  it  put  Mr.  M —  upon  an  application  to  Mr.  S — ,  the  member  for  the  town ; 
and,  the  very  day  he  received  the  promise  in  my  favour,  Mr.  C —  was  found 
dead  in  his  bed,  though  he  had  been  in  company,  and  in  perfect  health,  the 
night  before.  If  I  mistake  not,  the  same  messenger  who  brought  the  promise, 
carried  back  the  news  of  the  vacancy  to  Mr.  S — ,  at  Chester.  About  an  hour 
after,  the  mayor  applied  for  a  nephew'  of  his  ;  but,  though  it  was  only  an  hour 
or  two,  he  was  too  late.  Mr.  S —  had  already  written,  and  sent  off"  the  letter  ; 
and  I  was  appointed  accordingly.  These  circumstances  appear  to  me  extraordi- 
nary, though  of  a  piece  with  many  other  parts  of  my  singular  history.  And  the 
more  so,  as  by  another  misfake  I  missed  the  land  waiter's  place,  which  was  my 
first  object,  and  which  I  now  see  would  not  have  suited  us  nearly  so  well.  I 
thank  God  I  can  now  look  through  instruments,  and  second  causes,  and  see  his 
wisdom  and  goodness  immediately  concerned  in  fixing  my  lot." 

Mr.  N.  having  expressed,  near  the  end  of  his  Narrative,  the  motives  which 
induced  him  to  aim  at  a  regular  appointment  to  the  ministry  in  the  church  of 
England,  and  of  the  refusal  he  met  with  in  his  first  making  the  attempt,  the 

•  Letters  to  a  Wife,  vol.  il  p.  7. 


MEMOIRS  OP  TIIE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON.  3!S 

reader  is  farther  Iiiformcd,  that,  on  Dec.  IfJ,  IToH,  Mr.  N.  rcr(>iv<'(l  a  titlir  to  a 
curacy  from  thf  Rev.  Mr.  C' — ,  niul  aj)|)lio(I  to  tlic  iir(  libisliop  of  York,  Dr.  (iil- 
bert,  for  ordination.  The  bishop  of  (Chester  having;  countL'r.sif^nod  his  tistimo- 
iiials,  directed  him  to  Dr.  Newton,  the  arehhisliop's  eliaplain.  He  wjls  referred 
to  the  secretary,  and  received  tlie  softest  refusal  iinai;inabie.  The  secretary  in- 
formed him,  that  h»i  had  "represented  the  matter  to  the  archbishop;  but  his 
Grace  was  inth'xible  in  supportin<!;  the  rules  and  canons  of  the  church,"  6lc. 

Traveiliiiii;  to  IiOuiJ:hl)()rou};h,  Mr.  N.  stopped  at  Welwyn,  and  s<;nding  a  note 
to  the  celebrated  Dr.  Voun;i;,  he  rect;ived  for  answer,  that  i\ui  doctor  would  be 
p:lad  to  see  him.  He  found  the  doctor's  conversation  af^reeable,  and  to  answer 
his  expectation  respectint;  the  author  of  the  Ni^^ht  Tho»i<i;hts.  The  doctor  like- 
wise seemed  pleased  with  Mr.  N.  He  approved  Mr.  N.'s  design  of  entering 
the  ministry,  and  said  many  encouraging  things  upon  the  subject :  and  when  he 
dismissed  Mr.  N.  desired  him  never  to  pass  near  Welwyn  without  calling  upon 
him. 

Mr.  N.  it  seems,  had  made  some  small  attempts  at  Liverpool,  in  a  way  of 
preaching  or  expounding.  Many  wished  him  to  engage  more  at  large  in  those 
ministerial  employments,  to  which  his  own  mind  was  inclined  :  and  he  thus  ex- 
presses his  motives  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  N.  in  answer  to  the  objections  she  had 
formed.  "  The  late  death  of  Mr.  Jones,  of  St.  Saviour's,  has  pressed  this  con- 
cern more  closely  upon  my  mind.  I  fear  it  must  be  wrong,  after  having  so 
solemnly  devoted  myself  to  the  Lord  for  his  service,  to  wear  away  my  time,  and 
bury  my  talents  in  silence,  (because  I  have  been  refused  orders  in  the  church,) 
after  all  the  great  things  he  has  done  for  me."* 

In  a  note  annexed,  he  observes,  that  "the  influence  of  his  judicious  and  affec- 
tionate counsellor  moderated  the  zeal  which  dictated  this  letter,  written  in  the 
year  176:^ ;  that  had  it  not  been  for  her,  he  should  probably  have  been  precluded 
from  those  important  scenes  of  service,  to  which  he  was  afterwards  appointed  ;" 
but  he  adds,  "The  exercises  of  my  mind  upon  this  point,  I  believe,  have  not 
been  peculiar  to  myself.  I  have  known  several  persons,  sensible,  pious,  of  com- 
petent abilities,  and  cordially  attached  to  the  established  church,  who,  being 
wearied  out  with  repeated  refusals  of  ordination,  and,  perhaps,  not  having  the 
advantage  of  such  an  adviser  as  I  had,  have  at  length  struck  into  the  itinerant 
path,  or  settled  among  the  Dissenters.  Some  of  these,  yet  living,  are  men  of 
respectable  characters,  and  useful  in  their  ministry  ;  but  their  influence,  which 
would  once  have  been  serviceable  to  the  true  interests  of  the  Church  of  England, 
now  rather  operates  against  it." 

In  the  year  17G4,  Mr.  N.  had  the  curacy  of  Olney  proposed  to  him,  and  was 
recommended  by  Lord  D —  to  Dr.  Green,  bishop  of  Lincoln  ;  of  whose  candour 
and  tenderness  he  speaks  with  much  respect.  The  bishop  had  admitted  him  as 
a  candidate  for  orders.  "The  examination,"  says  he,  "lasted  about  an  hour, 
chiefly  upon  the  principal  heads  of  Divinity.  As  I  resolved  not  to  be  charged 
hereafter  with  dissimulation,  I  was  constrained  to  differ  from  his  lordship  in  some 
points  :  but  he  was  not  offended  ;  he  declared  himself  satisfied,  and  has  promised 
to  ordain  me,  either  next  Sunday,  in  town,  or  the  Sunday  following,  at  Buck- 
den.     Let  us  praise  the  Lord!"t 

Mr.  N.  was  ordained  deacon  at  Buckdcn,  April  29,  1764,  and  priest  in  June 
the  following  year.  In  the  parish  of  Olney,  he  found  many,  who  not  only  had 
evangelical  views  of  the  truth,  but  had  also  long  walked  in  the  light  and  experi- 
ence of  it.  The  vicarage  was  in  the  gift  of  the  Earl  of  D — ,  the  nobleman  to 
whom  Mr.  N.  addressed  the  first  twenty-six  letters  in  his  Cardiphonia.  The 
earl  was  a  man  of  real  piety,  and  most  amiable  disposition  ;  he  had  formerly  ap- 
pointed the  Rev.  Moses  Brown  vicar.  Mr.  Brown  was  an  evangelical  minister, 
and  a  good  man  ;  of  course  he  had  afforded  wholesome  instruction  to  the  parish- 
ioners of  Olney,  and  had  been  the  instrument  of  a  sound  conversion  in  many  of 

♦  Letters  to  a  Wife,  vol.  ii,  p.  TC.        t  Ibid.  vol.  ii.  p.  89 


36  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOHN    NEWTON. 

hem.  He  was  the  author  of  a  poetical  piece  entitled  Sunday  Thoughts,  a 
translation  of  Professor  Zimmerman's  Excellency  of  the  Knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ,  &c. 

But  Mr.  Brown  had  a  numerous  family,  and  met  with  considerable  trials  in  it; 
he  too  much  resembled  Eli  in  his  indulgence  of  his  children.  He  was  also  under 
the  pressure  of  pecuniary  difficulties,  and  had  therefore  accepted  the  chaplaincy 
of  Morden  College,  Blackheath,  while  vicar  of  Olney.  Mr.  N.  in  these  circum- 
stances, undertook  the  curacy  of  Olney,  in  which  he  continued  near  sixteen 
years,  previous  to  his  removal  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  to  which  he  was  after- 
wards presented,  by  the  late  John  Thornton,  Esq. 

As  Mr.  N.  was  under  the  greatest  obligations  to  Mr.  Thornton's  friendship 
while  at  Olney,  and  had  been  enabled  to  extend  his  own  usefulness  by  the  bounty 
of  that  extraordinary  man,  it  may  not  be  foreign  to  our  subject  to  give  some  ge^ 
neral  outline  of  Mr.  Thornton's  character  in  this  place. 

It  is  said  of  Solomon,  that  "  the  Lord  gave  him  largeness  of  heart,  even  as  the 
sand  on  the  sea-shore  :"  such  a  peculiar  disposition  for  whatever  was  good  or 
benevolent  was  also  bestowed  on  Mr.  Thornton.  He  differed  as  much  from  rich 
men  of  ordinary  bounty,  as  they  do  from  others  that  are  parsimonious.  Nor 
was  this  bounty  the  result  of  occasional  impulse,  like  a  summer  shower,  violent 
and  short ;  on  the  contrary,  it  proceeded  like  a  river  pouring  its  waters  through 
various  countries,  copious  and  inexhaustible.  Nor  could  those  obstructions  of 
imposture  and»  ingratitude,  which  have  often  been  advanced  as  the  cause  of 
damming  up  other  streams,  prevent  or  retard  the  course  of  this.  The  generosity 
of  Mr.  Thornton,  indeed,  frequently  met  with  such  hindrances,  and  led  him  to 
increasing  discrimination ;  but  the  stream  of  his  bounty  never  ceased  to  hold  its 
course.  Deep,  silent,  and  overwhelming,  it  still  rolled  on,  nor  ended  even  with 
his  life. 

But  the  fountain  from  whence  this  beneficence  flowed,  and  by  which  its  per- 
manency and  direction  were  maintained,  must  not  be  concealed.  Mr.  Thornton 
was  a  Christian.  Let  no  one,  however,  so  mistake  me  here,  as  to  suppose,  that 
I  mean  nothing  more  by  the  term  Christian,  than  the  state  of  one,  who,  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  of  revelation,  gives  assent  to  its  doctrines — regularly  attends 
its  ordinances — and  maintains  an  external  moral  and  religious  deportment  Such 
a  one  may  have  a  name  to  live  while  he  is  dead  ;  he  may  have  a  form  of  godli- 
ness without  the  power  of  it ;  he  may  even  be  found  denying  and  ridiculing  that 
power — till  at  length  he  can  only  be  convinced  of  his  error  at  an  infallible  tribu- 
nal ;  where  a  widow,  that  gives  but  a  mite,  or  a  publican,  that  smites  on  his 
breast,  shall  be  preferred  before  him. 

Mr.  Thornton  was  a  Christian  indeed  ;  that  is,  he  was  alive  to  God  by  a  spi- 
ritual regeneration.  With  this  God  he  was  daily  and  earnestly  transacting  that 
infinitely  momentous  affair — the  salvation  of  his  own  soul ;  and,  next  to  that,  the 
salvation  of  the  souls  of  others.  Temperate  in  all  things,  though  mean  in  nothing, 
he  made  provision  for  doing  good  with  his  opulence,  and  seemed  to  be  most  in 
his  element  when  appropriating  a  considerable  part  of  his  large  income  to  the 
necessities  of  others. 

But  Mr.  Thornton  possessed  that  discrimination  in  his  attempts  to  serve  his 
fellow-creatures,  which  distinguishes  an  enlightened  mind  ;  he  habitually  con- 
templated man,  as  one,  who  has  not  only  a  body,  subject  to  want,  affliction,  and 
death,  but  also  a  spirit,  which  is  immortal,  and  must  be  happy  or  miserable  for 
'^ver.  He  therefore  felt,  that  the  noblest  exertions  of  charity  are  those  which 
are  directed  to  the  relief  of  the  noblest  part  of  our  species.  Accordingly,  he  left 
no  mode  of  exertion  untried  to  relieve  man  under  his  natural  ignorance  and  de- 
pravity. To  this  end,  he  purcha<jed  advowsons  and  presentations,  with  a  view 
to  place  in  parishes  the  most  enlightened,  active  and  useful  ministers.  He  em- 
ployed the  extensive  commerce  in  which  he  was  engaged,  as  a  powerful  instru-i 
ment  for  conveying  immense  quantities  of  Bibles,  prayer-books,  and  the  mostl 
useful  publications,  to  every  place  visited  by  cur  trade.     He  printed,  at  his  own 


MEMOIRS   OF  THi:   KKV.    JOHN   NKWTON.  37 

Fole  oxpt'iisc,  large  editions  of  the  latter  for  that  |)urpose  ;  and  it  may  safrly  be 
aflirnu'd,  that  there  is  scareely  a  part  of  the  known  world,  u  he  re  such  hooks 
eould  be  introdueed,  which  did  not  feed  the  salutary  inlluenee  of  this  single  in- 
dividual. 

Nor  was  Mr.  Thornton  limited  in  his  views  of  promoting  the  interests  of  real 
religion,  with  what  sect  soever  it  was  connected.  He  stood  ready  to  assist  a  be- 
neficial design  in  every  party,  but  would  be  the  creature  of  none.  General  good 
was  his  object,  and  wherever  or  however  it  made  its  way,  his  maxim  seemed 
constantly  to  be,  "  vahat  (junntiun,  rait  re  potest.'' 

But  the  nature  and  extent  of  his  liberality  will  be  greatly  misconceived,  if  any 
one  should  suppose  it  confined  to  moral  and  religious  objects,  though  the  grand- 
est and  most  comj)rehensive  exertions  of  it.  Mr.  Thornton  was  a  philanthro- 
pist on  the  largest  scale — the  friend  of  man  under  all  his  wants.  His  maimer 
of  relieving  his  fellow-men  was  princely  ;  instances  might  be  mentioned  of  it, 
were  it  proj)er  to  particularize,  w  hich  would  surprise  those  who  did  not  know 
Mr.  Thornton.  They  were  so  much  out  of  ordinary  course  and  expectation,  that 
I  know  some  who  felt  it  their  duty  to  inquire  of  him,  whether  the  sum  they  liad 
received  was  sent  by  his  intention,  or  by  mistake  ^  To  this  may  be  added, 
that  the  manner  of  presenting  his  gifts  was  as  delicate  and  concealed,  as  the  mea- 
sure was  large. 

Besides  this  constant  course  of  private  donations,  there  was  scarcely  a  public 
charity,  or  occasion  of  relief  to  the  ignorant  or  necessitous,  which  did  not  meet 
with  his  distinguished  support.  His  only  question  was,  "May  the  miseries  of 
man,  in  any  measure,  be  removed  or  alleviated?"  Nor  was  he  merely  distin- 
guished by  stretching  out  a  liberal  hand  :  his  benevolent  heart  was  so  intent  on 
doing  good,  that  he  was  ever  inventing  and  promoting  plans  for  its  diffusion  at 
home  or  abroad. 

He  that  wisely  desires  any  end,  will  as  \visely  regard  the  means ;  in  this  Mr. 
Thornton  v/as  perfectly  consistent.  In  order  to  execute  his  beneficent  designs, 
he  observed  frugality  and  exactness  in  his  personal  expenses.  By  such  pros- 
pective methods,  he  was  able  to  extend  the  influence  of  his  fortune  far  beyond 
those  who,  in  still  more  elevated  stations,  are  slaves  to  expensive  habits.  Such 
men  meanly  pace  in  trammels  of  the  tyrant  custom,  till  it  leaves  them  scarcely 
enough  to  preserve  their  conscience,  or  even  their  credit,  much  less  to  employ 
their  talents  in  Mr.  Thornton's  nobler  pursuits.  He,  however,  could  afford  to 
be  generous;  and,  while  he  was  generous,  did  not  forget  his  duty  in  being  just. 
He  made  ample  provision  for  his  children  ;  and  though,  while  they  are  living 
it  would  be  indelicate  to  say  more,  I  am  sure  of  speaking  truth  w^hen  I  say,  they 
are  so  far  from  thinking  themselves  impoverished  by  the  bounty  of  their  father, 
that  they  contemplate  with  the  highest  satisfaction  the  fruit  of  those  benefits  to 
society  which  he  planted,  which  it  may  be  trusted  will  extend  with  time  itself, 
and  which,  after  his  example,  they  still  labour  to  extend. 

But,  with  all  the  piety  and  liberality  of  his  honoured  character,  no  man  had 
deeper  views  of  his  own  unworthiness  before  his  God.  To  the  Redeemer's  w^ork 
alone  he  looked  for  acceptance  of  his  person  and  services :  he  felt,  that  all  he  did 
or  could  do,  was  infinitely  short  of  that  which  had  been  done  for  him,  and  of  the 
obligations  that  were  thereby  laid  upon  him.  It  was  this  abasedness  of  heart  to 
wards  God,  combined  with  the  most  singular  largeness  of  heart  toward  his  fellow 
creatures,  which  distinguished  John  Thornton  among  men. 

To  this  common  patron  of  every  useful  and  pious  endeavour,  Mr.  N.  sent  tht 
Narrative,  from  which  the  former  part  of  these  Memoirs   is   extracted.     Mr 
Thornton  replied  in  his  usual  manner;  that  is,  by  accompanying  his  letter  with 
a  valuable  bank  note  ;   and,  some  months  after,  he  paid  Mr.  N.  a  visit  at  Olney 
A  closer  connexion  being  now  formed  between  friends,  who  employed  their  dis 
tinct  talents  in  promoting  the  same  benevolent  cause,  Mr.  Thornton  left  a  sum 
of  money  with  Mr.  N.  to  be  appropriated  to  the  defraying  his  necessary  expenses, 
and  relieving  the  poor.     "Be  hospitable,"  said  Mr.  Thornton,   "and  keep  au 


38  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

open  house  for  such  as  arc  worthy  of  an  entertainment :  help  the  poor  and  needy  : 
I  will  statedly  allow  you  £200  a-year,  and  readily  send  whatever  you  have  oc- 
casion to  draw  for  more."  Mr.  N.  told  me,  that  he  thought  he  had  received 
of  Mr.  Thornton  upwards  of  £>  3000  in  this  way,  during  the  time  he  resided  at 
Olney. 

The  case  of  most  ministers  is  peculiar  in  this  respect :  some  among  them  may 
be  looked  up  to,  on  account  of  their  publicity  and  talents ;  they  may  have  made 
great  sacrifices  of  their  personal  interest,  in  order  to  enter  on  their  ministry,  and 
may  be  possessed  of  the  strongest  benevolence  ;  but,  from  the  narrowness  of  their 
pecuniary  circumstances,  and  from  the  largeness  of  their  families,  they  often  per- 
ceive, that  an  ordinary  tradesman  in  their  parishes,  can  subscribe  to  a  charitable 
or  popular  institution  much  more  liberally  than  themselves.  This  would  have 
been  Mr.  N.'s  case,  but  for  the  above-mentioned  singular  patronage. 

A  minister,  however,  should  not  be  so  forgetful  of  his  dispensation,  as  to  repine 
at  his  want  of  power  in  this  respect.  He  might  as  justly  estimate  his  deficiency 
by  the  strength  of  the  lion,  or  the  flight  of  the  eagle.  The  power  communicated 
to  him  is  of  another  kind  ;  and  power  of  every  kind  belongs  to  God,  who  gives 
gifts  to  every  man  severally  as  he  will.  The  two  mites  of  the  widow  were  all 
the  power  of  that  kind  which  was  communicated  to  her,  and  her  bestowment  of 
her  two  mites  was  better  accepted  than  the  large  offerings  of  the  rich  man.  The 
powers,  therefore,  of  Mr.  Thornton,  and  of  Mr.  N.,  though  of  a  different  order, 
were  both  consecrated  to  God  ;  and  each  might  have  said,  ■'  Of  thine  own  have 
we  given  thee." 

Providence  seems  to  have  appointed  Mr.  N.'s  residence  at  Olney,  among  other 
reasons,  for  the  relief  of  the  depressed  mind  of  the  poet  Cowper.     There  has 
gone  forth  an  unfounded  report,  that  the  deplorable  melancholy  of  Cowper  wasi. 
in  part,  derived  from  his  residence  and  connexions  in  that  place.  The  fact,  how 
ever,  is  the  reverse  of  this;  and  as  it  may  be  of  importance  to  the  interests  cr' 
true  religion  to  prevent  such  a  misrepresentation  from  taking  root,  I  will  presen 
the  real  state  of  the  case,  as  I  have  found  it  attested  by  the  most  respectable  liv 
ing  witnesses ;  and  more  especially  as  confirmed  by  a  MS.,  written  by  the  poet 
himself,  at  the  calmest  period  of  his  life  ;  with  the  perusal  of  which  I  was  fa- 
voured by  Mr.  N. 

It  most  evidently  appears,  that  symptoms  of  Mr.  Cowper' s  morbid  state  began 
to  discover  themselves  in  his  earliest  youth.  He  seems  to  have  been  at  all  times 
disordered,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree.  He  was  sent  to  Westminster  school  at 
the  age  of  nine  years,  and  long  endured  the  tyranny  of  an  elder  boy,  of  which 
he  gives  a  shocking  account  in  the  paper  above-mentioned;  and  which  "  pro- 
duced," as  one  of  his  biographers  observes,  who  had  long  intimacy  with  him, 
"an  indelible  effect  upon  his  mind  through  life."  A  person  so  naturally  bashful 
and  depressed  as  Cowper,  must  needs  find  the  profession  of  a  barrister  a  farther 
occasion  of  anxiety :  the  post  obtained  for  him  by  his  friends  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
overwhelmed  him  ;  and  the  remonstrances  which  those  friends  made  against  his 
relinquishing  so  honourable  and  lucrative  an  appointment,  (but  which  soon  after 
actually  took  place,)  greatly  increased  the  anguish  of  a  mind  already  incapacitated 
for  business.  To  all  this  were  added  events,  which  of  themselves  have  beea 
found  sufficient  to  overset  the  minds  of  the  strongest ;  namely,  the  decease  of  his 
particular  friend  and  intimate.  Sir  William  Russel ;  and  his  meeting  with  a  dis- 
appointment in  obtaining  a  lady  upon  whom  his  affections  v\'ere  placed. 

But  the  state  of  a  person,  torn  and  depressed,  not  by  his  religious  connexions 
but  by  adverse  circumstances,  and  these  meeting  a  naturally  morbid  sensibility 
long  before  he  knew  Olney,  or  had  formed  any  connexion  with  its  inhabitants 
will  best  appear  from  some  verses  which  he  sent  at  this  time  to  one  of  his  femakl 
relations,  and  for  the  communication  of  which  we  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Hayley  :^ 

"  Doom'd,  as  I  am,  in  solitude  to  waste 
The  present  moments,  and  regret  the  past ; 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOnS    NEWTON.  39 

Dfpriv'il  ofovrrv  joy  I  viiluni  mofrt — 
My  fruMid  torn  lV(»in  inc,  and  my  mistroHS  .rmi : 
Ctili  not  litis  ^l(M>in  1  wear,  this  tinxious  iiuirii, 
Tlu'  iliill  cllicl  of  humour  or  of  H|)h*ni  ; 
Slill,  still  I  mourn,  with  rach  nturriiniT  day, 
Him — siiatch'd  liy  fatr,  in  early  youth,  away  ; 
Ami  hrr,  through  tt-iiious  yrars  of  doubt  and  jiain, 
Fix'd  in  hor  «'hi>itt<,  and  faithful — hut  in  vain. 
Soo  mr,  rro  yc-t  n»v  dcslin'd  rourno  half  done, 
Cast  forth  a  wand'n-r  on  a  wild  unknown  ! 
StH'  mr,  ni';^l»Ttt'd  otithf  world's  rudi;  coast, 
Kach  dfari-om|«inion  of  my  vt)yaif»' lost ! 
Nor  ask,  why  riouds  of  sorrow  shadr  my  hrow, 
And  rrady  tears  wait  oidy  Iravo  to  How : 
Why  all  that  soothes  a  heart,  from  anjruish  free, 
All  that  doli^'hts  tlie  happy— palls  with  me? 

That  any  man,  under  such  pressures,  should  at  first  turn  his  mind  to  those  re- 
sources, which  relif^ion  alone  can  aflbrd,  is  both  natural  and  rational.  But  Mr. 
Ccwper  was  like  a  person  lookinj^  from  a  high  tower,  who  perceives  only  the 
danger  of  falling,  but  neither  the  security  nor  prospect  it  presents;  and  therefore 
it  is  no  wonder,  with  so  melancholy,  morbid,  and  susceptible  a  mind,  that  his 
unhappiness  should  be  increased.  And  yet  this  very  mind  of  Cowper,  when 
put  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Cotton,  of  St.  Alban's  (a  physician  as  capable  of  ad- 
ministering to  the  spiritual  as  to  the  natural  maladies  of  his  patients,)  received 
the  first  consolation  it  ever  tasted,  and  that  from  evangelical  truths.  It  was 
under  the  care  of  this  pkysician,  that  INIr.  Cowper  first  obtained  a  clear  view  of 
those  sublime  and  animating  truths,  which  so  distinguished  and  exalted  his  future 
strains  as  a  poet.  Here  also  he  received  that  settled  tranquillity  and  peace, 
which  he  enjoyed  for  several  years  afterwards.  So  far,  therefore,  was  his  con- 
stitutional malady  from  being  produced  or  increased  by  his  evangelical  connexions, 
either  at  St.  Alban's  or  at  Olney,  that  he  seems  never  to  have  had  any  settled 
peace  but  from  the  truths  he  learned  in  these  societies.  It  appears,  that  among 
them  alone  he  found  the  only  sunshine  he  ever  enjoyed  through  the  cloudy  day 
of  his  afflicted  life. 

It  appears  also,  that,  while  at  Dr.  Cotton's,  Mr.  Cowper's  distress  was,  for  a 
long  time,  entirely  removed,  by  marking  that  passage  in  Rom.  iii.  25:  "Him 
hath  God  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation,  through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his 
righteousness  for  the  remission  of  sins  that  are  past."  In  this  scripture  he  saw 
the  remedy,  w^hich  God  provides  for  the  relief  of  a  guilty  conscience,  with  such 
clearness,  that,  for  several  years  after,  his  heart  was  filled  with  love,  and  his  life 
occupied  with  prayer,  praise,  and  doing  good  to  his  needy  fellow-creatures. 

Mr.  N.  told  me,  that  from  Mr.  Cowper's  first  coming  to  Olney,  it  was  ob- 
served he  had  studied  his  Bible  with  such  advantage,  and  was  so  well  acquainted 
with  its  design,  that  not  only  his  troubles  were  removed,  but  that  to  the  end  of 
his  life  he  never  had  clearer  views  of  the  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gospel  than 
when  he  first  became  an  attendant  upon  them  ;  that  (short  intervals  excepted) 
Mr.  Cowper  enjoyed  a  course  of  peace  for  several  successive  years  ;  that,  during 
this  period,  the  inseparable  attendants  of  a  lively  faith  appeareil,  by  Mr.  Cowper's 
exerting  himself  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  in  every  benevohviie  service  he  could 
render  to  his  poor  neighbours  ;  and  that  Mr.  N.  used  to  consider  him  as  a  sort  of 
curate,  from  his  constant  attendance  upon  the  sick  and  afflicted,  in  that  large  and 
necessitous  parish. 

But  the  malady,  which  seemed  to  be  subdued  by  the  strong  consolations  of  the 
gospel,  was  still  latent ;  and  only  required  some  occasion  of  irritation  to  break  out 
again,  and  overwhelm  the  patient.  Any  object  of  constant  attention,  that  shall  oc- 
cupy a  mind  previously  disordered,  whether  fear,  or  love,  or  science,  or  religion, 
will  not  be  so  much  the  cause  of  the  disease,  as  the  accidental  occasion  of  exciting  it. 
Cowper's  Letters  will  show  us  how  much  his  mind  was  occupied  at  one  time  by 
the  truths  of  the  Bible,  and  at  another  time  by  the  fictions  of  Homer ;  but  his 
melancholy  was  originally  a  constitutional  disease,  a  physical  disorder,  which,  in- 


40  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    HEV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

deed,  could  be  aficctcd  either  by  the  Bible  or  by  Homer,  but  was  utterly  distinct 
in  its  nature  from  the  mere  matter  of  either.  And  here  1  cannot  but  mark  this 
necessary  dij-tinction,  having  often  been  witness  to  cases  where  religion  has  been 
assigned  as  the  proper  cause  of  insanity,  when  it  has  been  only  an  accidental  oc- 
casion, in  the  case  of  one  already  affected.*  Thus  Cowper's  malady,  like  a  strong 
current,  breaking  down  the  banks  which  had  hitherto  sustained  the  pressure  and 
obliquity  of  its  course,  prevailed  against  the  supports  he  had  received,  and  pre- 
cipitated him  again  into  his  former  distress. 

I  inquired  of  Mr.  N.  as  to  the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Cowper's  disorder  re- 
turned, after  an  apparent  recovery  of  nearly  nine  years  continuance:  and  was 
informed  that  the  first  symptoms  were  discovered  one  morning,  in  his  discourse, 
soon  after  he  had  undertaken  a  new  engagement  in  composition. 

As  a  general  and  full  account  of  this  extraordinary  genius  is  already  before  the 
public,  such  particulars  would  not  have  occupied  so  much  room  in  these  Me- 
moirs, but  with  the  view  of  removing  the  false  statements  that  have  been  made. 
Of  great  importance  also  was  the  vicinity  of  Mr.  N.'s  residence  to  that  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Scott,  then  curate  of  Ravenstone  and  Weston  Underwood,  and  now 
rector  of  Aston  Sandford  ;  a  man  whose  ministry  and  writings  have  since  been 
so  useful  to  mankind.  This  clergyman  was  nearly  a  Socinian :  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  ridiculing  evangelical  religion,  and  laboured  to  bring  over  Mr.  N. 
to  his  own  sentiments.  Mr.  Scott  had  married  a  lady  from  the  family  of  a  Mr. 
Wright,  a  gentleman  in  his  parish,  who  had  promised  to  provide  for  him.  But 
Mr.  Scott's  objections  to  subscription  arose  so  high,  thg^  he  informed  his  patron 
it  would  be  in  vain  to  attempt  providing  for  him  in  the  Church  of  England,  as 
he  could  not  conscientiously  accept  a  living  on  the  condition  of  subscribing  its 
Liturgy  and  Articles.  "  This,"  said  Mr.  N.,  ''gave  me  hopes  of  Mr.  Scott's 
being  sincere,  however  wrong  in  his  principles." 

But  the  benefit  which  Mr.  Scott  derived  from  his  neighbour,  will  best  appear 
in  his  own  words  : — t 

"  I  was,"  says  he,  "  full  of  proud  self-sufficiency,  very  positive,  and  very  ob- 
stinate ;  and  being  situated  in  the  neighbourhood  of  some  of  those  whom  the 
world  calls  Methodists  I  joined  in  the  prevailing  sentiment;  held  them  in  sove- 
reign contempt ;  spoke  of  them  with  derision  ;  declaimed  against  them  from  the 
pulpit,  as  persons  full  of  bigotry,  enthusiasm,  and  spiritual  pride  ;  laid  heavy 
things  to  their  charge;  and  endeavoured  to  prove  the  doctrine,  which  1  supposed 
them  to  hold  (for  1  had  never  read  their  books,)  to  be  dishonourable  to  God, 
and  destructive  of  morality ;  and  though  in  some  companies  I  chose  to  conceal 
part  of  my  sentiments,  and  in  all  affected  to  speak  as  a  friend  to  universal  toler- 
ation, yet  scarcely  any  person  could  be  more  proudly  and  violently  prejudiced 
against  both  their  persons  and  principles  than  I  then  was. 

"  In  January  1774,  two  of  my  parishioners,  a  man  and  his  wife,  lay  at  the 
point  of  death.     I  had  heard  of  the  circumstance,  but,  according  to  my  general 

*  I  have  boen  an  eye-witness  of  several  instances  of  tliis  kind  of  misrepresentation,  but  will  detain 
the  reader  with  mentioning  only  one.  I  was  called  to  visit  a  woman  whose  mind  was  disordered,  and 
on  my  observinji,  that  it  was  a  case  which  required  the  assistance  of  a  physician  rather  than  that  of  a 
clergyman,  her  husband  rephcd  :  "  Sir,  we  sent  to  you,  because  it  is  a  religious  case — her  mind  has 
been  injured  by  constantly  reading  the  Bible."  "  I  have  known  many  instances,"  said  I,  "of  persons 
brought  to  their  senses  by  reading  the  Bible  ;  but  it  is  possible,  that  too  intense  an  application  to  that, 
as  well  as  to  any  other  subject,  may  have  disordered  your  wife."  "  There  is  every  proof  of  it,"  said 
he ;  and  was  proceeding  to  multiply  his  proofs,  till  his  brother  interrupted  him  by  thus  addressing 
me: — 

"  Sir,  I  have  no  longer  patience  to  stand  by  and  see  you  imposed  on.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  this : 
my  brother  has  forsaken  his  wife,  and  been  long  connected  with  a  loose  woman.  He  had  the  best  of 
wives  in  her,  and  one  who  was  strongly  attached  to  him  :  but  she  has  seen  his  heart  and  property 
given  to  another,  and  in  her  solitude  and  distress,  went  to  the  Bible,  as  the  only  consolation  left  her. 
Her  health  and  spirits  at  length  sunk  under  her  troubles;  and  there  she  lies  distracted,  not  from  read- 
ing her  Bible,  but  from  the  infidehty  and  cruelty  of  her  husband."  Does  the  reader  wish  to  know 
■what  reply  the  husband  made  to  this  7  He  made  no  reply  at  all,  but  left  the  room  with  confusion  of 
face. 

t  Scott's  Force  of  Truth,  p.  II,  fifth  edition. 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOHN    NEWTOV-  41 

custom,  not  bt'inp;  st'nt  for,  I  took  no  notice  of  it  ;  till  one  pvcninp,  the  woman 
bi'in<];  now  dead,  and  tl»e  man  dyinfj:,  I  heard  tliat  my  neif^hhoiir  Mr.  N.  hud 
been  several  times  to  visit  them.  Imnu'diately  my  conscience  reproached  me 
with  bein«;  shamefully  nei];li<;ent,  in  sittinj;  at  liomi?  within  a  few  doors  of  dyiiifr 
persons,  my  i^^eneral  hearers,  and  never  j:;oin<ij  to  visit  them.  Directly  it  occur- 
red to  me,  that  whatever  contempt  I  might  have  for  Mr.  N.'s  doctrines,  I  miist 
aoknowledj;c  his  practice  to  be  more  consistent  with  the  ministerial  character 
than  my  own.  He  must  have  more  zeal  and  love  for  souls  than  1  had,  or  he 
would  not  have  walked  so  far  to  visit  and  supply  my  lack  of  care  to  those,  who, 
as  far  as  I  wiis  concerned,  mij>;ht  liave  been  leit  to  perish  in  their  sins. 

"  This  rellection  afVected  me  so  much,  that  without  delay,  and  very  earnestly 
yea,  with  tears,  1  besought  the  Lord  to  forgive  my  past  neglect;  and  I  resolved 
thenceforth  to  be  more  attentive  to  this  duty:  which  resolution,  though  at  first 
formed  in  ignorant  dependence  on  my  own  strength,  I  have  by  divine  grace  been 
enabled  hitherto  to  keep.  I  went  immediately  to  visit  the  survivor;  and  the  af- 
fecting sight  of  one  person  already  dead,  and  another  expiring  in  the  same  cham- 
ber, served  more  deeply  to  impress  my  serious  convictions. 

"  It  was  at  this  time  that  my  correspondence  with  Mr.  N.  commenced.  At 
a  visitation,  jNIay  1775,  we  exchanged  a  few  words  on  a  controverted  subject, 
in  the  room  among  the  clergy,  which  I  believe  drew  many  eyes  upon  us.  At 
that  time  he  prudently  declined  the  discourse  ;  but  a  day  or  two  after  he  sent 
me  a  short  note,  with  a  little  book  for  my  perusal.  This  was  the  very  thing  I 
wanted  ;  and  I  gladly  embraced  the  opportunity,  which,  according  to  my  wishes, 
seemed  now  to  offer  ;  God  knoweth,  with  no  inconsiderable  expectations,  that 
my  arguments  would  prove  irresistibly  convincing,  and  that  I  should  have  the 
honour  of  rescuing  a  well-meaning  person  from  his  enthusiastical  delusions. 

"  I  had,  indeed,  by  this  time  conceived  a  very  favourable  opinion  of  him,  and 
a  sort  of  respect  for  him,  being  acquainted  with  the  character  he  sustained,  even 
among  some  persons  who  expressed  a  disapprobation  of  his  doctrines.  They 
were  forward  to  commend  him  as  a  benevolent,  disinterested,  inoffensive  person, 
and  a  laborious  minister.  But  on  the  other  hand  I  looked  upon  his  religious 
sentiments  as  rank  fanaticism;  and  entertained  a  very  contemptible  opinion  of 
his  abilities,  natural  and  acquired.  Once  I  had  the  curiosity  to  hear  him  preach ; 
and,  not  understanding  his  sermon,  I  made  a  very  great  jest  of  it,  where  I  could 
do  it  without  giving  offence.  I  had  also  read  one  of  his  publications ;  but  for  the 
same  reason  I  thought  the  greater  part  of  it  whimsical,  paradoxical,  and  unintel- 
ligible. 

"Concealing,  therefore,  the  true  motives  of  my  conduct,  under  the  offer  of 
friendship,  and  a  professed  desire  to  know  the  truth  (which,  amidst  all  my  self- 
sufficiency  and  prejudice,  I  trust  the  Lord  had  even  then  given  me,)  with  the 
greatest  affectation  "of  candour,  and  of  a  mind  open  to  conviction,  I  wrote  him 
a  long  letter  ;  purposing  to  draw  from  him  such  an  avowal  and  explanation  of 
his  sentiments,  as  might  introduce  a  controversial  discussion  of  our  religious  dif- 
ferences. 

"The  event  by  no  means  answered  my  expectation.  He  returned  a  very 
friendly  and  long  answer  to  my  letter,  in  which  he  carefully  avoided  the  mention 
of  those  doctrines  which  he  knew  w^ould  offend  me.  He  declared  that  he  be- 
lieved me  to  be  one  who  feared  God,  and  was  under  the  teaching  of  his  Holy- 
Spirit  ;  that  he  gladly  accepted  my  offer  of  friendship,  and  was  no  ways  inclined 
to  dictate  to  me  ;  but  that,  leaving  me  to  the  guidance  of  the  Lord,  he  would  be 
glad,  as  occasion  served  from  time  to  time,  to  bear  testimony  to  the  truths  of  the 
gospel,  and  to  communicate  his  sentiments  to  me  on  any  subject  with  all  tlie 
confidence  of  friendship. 

"  In  this  manner  our  correspondence  began  ;  ard  it  was  continued,  in  the  in- 
terchange of  nine  or  ten  letters,  till  December,  in  the  same  year.     Throughout  I 
held  my  purpose,  and  he  his.  I  made  use  of  every  endeavour  to  draw  him  into  con- 
troversy, and  filled  my  letters  with  definitions,  inquiries,  arguments,  objections,  and 
F 


42  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

consequences,  requiring  explicit  answers.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  shunned  every 
thinff  controversial  as  much  as  possible,  and  filled  his  letters  with  the  most  useful 
and  least  olFensive  instructions  ;  except  that  now  and  then  he  dropped  his  hinti 
concerning;  the  necessity,  the  true  nature,  and  the  efficacy*  of  faith,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  to  be  sousjht  and  obtained;  and  concerning  some  other  mat- 
ters suited,  as  he  judged,  to  help  me  forward  in  my  inquiry  after  truth.  But  they 
much  offended  my  prejudices,  afforded  me  matter  of  disputation,  and  at  that  time 
were  of  little  use  to  me. 

"  When  I  had  made  this  little  progress  in  seeking  the  truth,  my  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  N.  was  resumed.  From  the  conclusion  of  our  correspondence  in  De- 
cember 1775,  till  April  1777,  it  had  been  almost  wholly  dropped.  To  speak 
plainly,  I  did  not  care  for  his  company :  I  did  not  mean  to  make  any  use  of  him 
as  an  instructor,  and  I  was  unwilling  the  world  should  think  us  in  any  way  con- 
nected. But,  under  discouraging  circumstances,  I  had  occasion  to  call  upon  him; 
and  his  discourse  so  comforted  and  edified  me,  that  my  heart,  being  by  his 
means  relieved  from  its  burden,  became  susceptible  of  affection  for  him.  From 
that  time  I  was  inwardly  pleased  to  have  him  for  my  friend;  though  not,  as  now, 
rejoiced  to  call  him  so.  1  had,  however,  even  at  that  time  no  thoughts  of  learn- 
ing doctrinal  truth  from  him,  and  was  ashamed  to  be  detected  in  his  company  ; 
but  I  sometimes  stole  away  to  spend  an  hour  with  him.  About  the  same  period 
I  once  heard  him  preach  ;  but  still  it  was  foolishness  to  me,  his  sermon  being 
principally  upon  the  believer's  experience,  in  some  particulars  with  which  I  was 
unacquainted ;  so  that,  though  I  loved  and  valued  him,  I  considered  him  as  a 
person  misled  by  enthusiastical  notions;  and  strenuously  insisted,  that  we  should 
never  think  alike  till  we  met  in  heaven." 

Mr.  Scott,  after  going  on  to  particularize  his  progress  in  the  discovery  of  truth 
and  the  character  of  Mr.  N.  as  its  minister,  afterwards  adds  : — 

"  The  pride  of  reasoning,  and  the  conceit  of  superior  discernment,  had  all 
along  accompanied  me ;  and  though  somewhat  broken,  had  yet  considerable  in- 
fluence. Hitherto,  therefore,  I  had  not  thought  of  hearing  any  person  preach ; 
because  I  did  not  think  any  one  in  the  circle  of  my  acquaintance  capable  of  giv- 
ing me  such  information  as  I  wanted.  But  being  at  length  convinced  that  Mr. 
N.  had  been  right,  and  that  I  had  been  mistaken,  in  the  several  particulars  in 
which  we  had  differed,  it  occurred  to  me,  that,  having  preached  those  doctrines  so 
long,  he  must  understand  many  things  concerning  them  to  which  I  was  a  stranger. 
Now,  therefore,  though  not  without  much  remaining  prejudice,  and  not  less  in 
the  character  of  a  judge  than  of  a  scholar,  I  condescended  to  be  his  hearer,  and 
occasionally  to  attend  his  preaching,  and  that  of  some  other  ministers.  I  soon 
perceived  the  benefit ;  for  from  time  to  time  the  secrets  of  my  heart  were  disco- 
vered to  me,  far  beyond  what  I  had  hitherto  noticed;  and  I  seldom  returned 
from  hearing  a  sermon  without  having  conceived  a  meaner  opinion  of  myself— 
without  having  attained  to  a  farther  acquaintance  with  my  deficiencies,  weak- 
nesses, corruptions,  and  wants — or  without  being  supplied  with  fresh  matter  for 
prayer,  and  directed  to  greater  watchfulness.  I  likewise  learned  the  use  of  ex- 
perience in  preaching;  and  was  convinced  that  the  readiest  way  to  reach  the 
hearts  and  consciences  of  others,  was  to  speak  from  my  own.  In  short,  I  gradu- 
ally saw  more  and  more  my  need  of  instruction,  and  was  at  length  brought  to 
consider  myself  as  a  very  novice  in  religious  matters.  Thus  I  began  experiment- 
ally to  perceive  our  Lord's  meaning,  when  he  says,  'Except  ye  receive  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  as  a  little  child,  ye  shall  in  nowise  enter  therein.'  " 

If  I  have  seemed  to  digress  in  dwelling  so  long  on  these  three  characters,  let 
the  reader  consider  the  importance  of  the  facts — their  intimate  connexion  with 
Mr.  N.'s  history — and  let  me  inform  him,  that  the  author  has  something  much 
nearer  his  heart  than  that  of  precision  in  setting  forth  the  history  of  an  indivi- 
dual;  namely,  that  of  exhibiting  the  nature  and  importance  of  vital  and  expcri-^ 
mental  religion  :  he  therefore  gladly  brings  forward  any  fact  found  in  his  wayJ 
which  may  tend  to  illustrate  it, 


MKMOIUS  OF  TIIK  IIV.V .   JOHN   NKWiON.  43 

But  to  return  to  the  more  iinmcdialc  subject  of  these  Memoirs.  In  the  year 
177(>,  Mr.  N.  wiis  alHieted  witli  a  tumour,  or  wen,  vvhicli  had  formed  on  hiH 
thigh;  and  on  aeeount  of  its  growing  more  hirge  and  trouhU'some,  he  resolved  to 
undergo  the  expi  riment  of  extirpation.  Tins  obliged  him  to  go  to  London  for 
the  operation,  wliieh  was  suceessfully  perforuK'd,  October  Kith,  by  tlie  late  Mr. 
Warner,  of  (iuy's  Hospital.  1  remember  hearing  him  speak  several  years  after- 
wards of  this  trying  occasion  ;  but  the  trial  did  not  seem  to  have  aflccted  him  as 
a  painful  operation,  so  much  as  a  critical  op])ortunity  in  which  he  might  fail  in 
demonstrating  the  patience  of  a  Christian  under  pain.  "  I  felt,"  said  he,  "that 
being  enabled  to  bear  a  very  sharp  operation,  with  tolerable  calmness  and  confi- 
dence, was  a  greater  favour  granted  to  me  than  the  deliverance  from  my  malady.* 

While  Mr.  N.  thus  continued  faithfully  discharging  the  duties  of  his  station, 
and  watching  for  the  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of  his  Hock,  a  dreadful  fire 
broke  out  at  OIney,  October  1777.  Mr.  N.  took  an  active  part  in  comforting 
and  relieving  the  sulFerers  :  he  collected  upwards  of  c/B2()()  for  them;  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money,  when  the  poverty  and  late  calamity  of  the  place  are  regarded. 
Such  instances  of  benevolence  towards  the  people,  with  the  constant  assistance 
he  atlbrded  the  poor,  by  the  help  of  Mr.  Thornton,  naturally  led  him  to  expect 
that  he  should  have  so  much  influence  as  to  restrain  gross  licentiousness  on  par- 
ticular occasions.  But,  to  use  his  own  expression,  he  had  "  lived  to  bury  the  old 
crop  on  which  any  dependence  could  be  placed."  He  preached  a  weekly  lec- 
ture, which  occurred  that  year  on  the  5th  of  November  ;  and,  as  he  feared  that 
the  usual  way  of  celebrating  it  at  Olney  might  endanger  his  hearers  in  their  at- 
tendance at  the  church,  he  exerted  himself  to  preserve  some  degree  of  quiet  on 
that  evening.  Instead,  however,  of  hearkening  to  his  entreaties,  the  looser  sort 
exceeded  their  former  extravagance,  drunkenness,  and  rioting,  and  even  obliged 
him  to  send  out  money,  to  preserve  his  house  from  violence.  This  happened 
but  a  year  before  he  finally  left  Olney.  When  he  related  this  occurrence  to  me, 
he  added,  that  he  believed  he  should  never  have  left  the  place  while  he  lived,  had 
not  so  incorrigible  a  spirit  prevailed  in  a  parish  he  had  long  laboured  to  reform. 

But  I  must  remark  here,  that  this  is  no  solitary  fact,  nor  at  all  unaccountable. 
The  gospel,  we  are  informed,  is  not  merely  "  a  savour  of  life  unto  life,"  but  also 
"  of  death  unto  death."  Those  whom  it  does  not  soften  it  is  often  found  to 
harden.  Thus  we  find  St.  Paul  "  went  into  the  synagogue  and  spake  boldly  for 
the  space  of  three  months,  disputing  and  persuading  the  things  concerning  the 
kingdom  of  God.  But  when  divers  were  hardened,  and  believed  not,  but  spake 
evil  of  that  way  before  the  multitude,  he  departed  from  them." 

"  The  strong  man  armed,"  seeks  to  keep  his  "  house  and  goods  in  peace," 
and,  if  a  minister  is  disposed  to  let  this  sleep  of  death  remain,  that  minister's  own 
house  and  goods  may  be  permitted  to  remain  in  peace  also.  Such  a  minister 
may  be  esteemed  by  his  parish  as  a  good  kind  of  man — quiet,  inoffensive,  candid, 
&.C.  ;  and  if  he  discover  any  zeal,  it  is  directed  to  keep  the  parish  in  the  state 
he  found  it;  that  is,  in  ignorance  and  unbelief,  worldly-minded  and  hard-hearted 
— the  very  state  of  peace  in  which  the  strong  man  armed  seeks  to  keep  his 
palace  or  citadel,  the  human  heart. 

But  if  a  minister,  like  the  subject  of  these  Memoirs,  enters  into  the  design  of 
his  commission — if  he  be  alive  to  the  interest  of  his  own  soul,  and  that  of  the 
souls  committed  to  his  charge  ;  or,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  "  to  save  himself 

♦His  reflections  upon  the  occasion,  m  his  diary,  are  as  follow: — "Thou  didst  support  me,  and 
make  this  operation  very  tolerable.     The  cure,  by  thy  blessing,  was  happily  expedited:  so  that,  on 

Sunday  the  27th,  I  was  enaliled  to  go  to  church  and  hear  Mr.  F ,  and  the  Sunday  following, 

to  preach  for  him.     The  tenderness  and  attention  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  F ,  with  wi;om  we  were,  I 

cannot  sufficiently  describe;  nor,  indeed,  the  kindness  of  many  other  friends.  To  tlicm  I  would  be 
thankful,  my  Lord,  but  especially  to  thee ;  for  what  are  creatures  but  instruments  in  thy  hand,  ful- 
filling thy  pleasure  ?  At  home  all  was  prescrve<l  quiet,  and  I  met  with  no  incident  to  distress  or  dis- 
turb me  while  absent.  The  last  fortnight  I  preached  often,  and  was  hurried  about  in  seeing  my 
friends.  But  though  I  had  a  little  leisure  or  opportunity  fur  retirement,  and  my  heart,  alas !  as  usual, 
sadly  reluctant  and  dull  in  secret,  yet  in  public  thou  wert  pleased  to  favour  me  with  liberty." 


44  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

and  those  that  hear  him,"  he  may  depend  upon  meeting  in  his  own  experience 
the  truth  of  that  declaration,  "  Yea,  all  that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall 
suffer  persecution,"  in  one  form  of  it  or  another.  One  of  the  most  melancholy 
sights  we  behold  is  when  any  part  of  the  church,  through  prejudice,  joins  the 
world  in  throwing  the  stone.  There  is,  however,  such  a  determined  enmity  to 
godliness  itself,  in  the  breast  of  a  certain  class  of  men  existing  in  most  parishes, 
that  whatever  learning  and  good  sense  are  found  in  their  teacher — whatever 
consistency  of  character,  or  blameless  deportment  he  exhibits — whatever  benevo 
lence  or  bounty  (like  that  which  Mr.  N.  exercised  at  Olney,)  may  constantly 
appear  in  his  character — such  men  remain  irreconcileable.  They  will  resht 
every  attempt  made  to  appease  their  enmity.  God  alone,  who  changed  the  hearts 
of  Paul  and  of  Newton,  can  heal  these  bitter  waters. 

I  recollect  to  have  heard  Mr.  N.  say  on  such  an  occasion,  "  When  God  is 
about  to  perform  any  great  work,  he  generally  permits  some  great  opposition  to 
it.  Suppose  Pharaoh  had  acquiesced  in  the  departure  of  the  children  of  Israel, 
or  that  they  had  met  with  no  difficulties  in  the  way,  they  would,  indeed,  have 
passed  from  Egypt  to  Canaan  with  ease ;  but  they,  as  well  as  the  church  in  all 
future  ages,  would  have  been  great  losers.  The  wonder-working  God  would 
not  have  been  seen  in  those  extremities,  which  make  his  arm  so  visible.  A 
smooth  passage,  here,  would  have  made  but  a  poor  story." 

But,  under  such  disorders,  Mr.  N.,  in  no  one  instance  that  I  ever  heard  of, 
was  tempted  to  depart  from  the  line  marked  out  by  the  precept  and  example  of 
his  Master.  He  continued  to  "  bless  them  that  persecuted  him,"  knowing  that 
"the  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but  be  gentle  unto  all  men,  apt  to 
teach,  patient."  To  the  last  day  he  spent  among  them,  he  went  straight  for- 
ward, "  in  meekness  instructing  those  that  opposed,  if  God  peradventure  might 
give  them  repentance  to  the  acknowledging  the  truth." 

But,  before  we  take  a  final  leave  of  Olney,  the  reader  must  be  informed  of 
another  part  of  Mr.  N.'s  labours.  He  had  published  a  volume  of  Sermons  before 
he  took  orders,  dated  Liverpool,  January  1,  17G0.  In  1762  he  published  his 
Omicron,  to  which  his  letters,  signed  Vigil,  were  afterwards  annexed.  In  1764 
appeared  his  Narrative.  In  1767,  a  volume  of  Sermons,  preached  at  Olney.  Id 
1769  his  Review  of  Ecclesiastical  History  :  and  in  1779,  a  volume  of  Hymns,  of 
which  some  were  composed  by  Mr.  Cowper,  and  distinguished  by  a  C.  To 
these  succeeded,  in  1781,  his  valuable  work,  Cardiphonia ;  but  more  will  be  said 
of  these  in  their  place. 

From  Olney  Mr.  N.  was  removed  to  the  rectory  of  the  united  parishes  of  St. 
Mary  Woolnoth,  and  St.  Mary  Woolchurch  Haw,  Lombard  Street,  on  the  pre- 
sentation of  his  friend  Mr.  Thornton. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  these  parishes  had  been  favoured  with  two  very  emi- 
nent pastors,  before  Mr.  N.  appeared  ;  namely,  the  Rev.  Josias  Shute,  B.  D., 
archdeacon  of  Colchester,  and  rector  of  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  who  died  1643 — and 
the  Rev.  Ralph  Robinson,  who  died  in  1655.  There  is  a  well  written  account 
of  Mr.  Shute  in  the  Christian  Observer  of  January  1804  ;  from  which  it  appears, 
that  his  pietV;  ministerial  talents,  and  moderation  in  those  difficult  times,  were 
very  much  distinguished  during  the  thirty-three  years  he  continued  rector.* 
Mr.  Robinson  died  young,  but  has  left  a  volume  of  truly  evangelical  discourses 
preached  at  St.  M.'^ry's. 

Some  difficulty  arose  on  Mr.  N.'s  being  presented,  by  Mr  Thornton's  right 
of  presentation  being  claimed  by  a  nobleman ;  the  question  was,  therefore,  at 

♦  Granffor  in  his  Biographical  History  of  England,  says  that  "His  learning  in  divinity  and  eccle- 
siastical history  was  extrnsivo,  indeed  almost  universal."  And  even  Walker,  in  his  account  of  the 
Clergy,  says,  that,  "  In  the  beginning  of  the  troubles,  he  was  molested  and  harassed  to  death,  and 
denied  a  funeral  sermon  to  l^  preached  for  him  by  Dr.  Holdsworth,  as  he  desired — that  he  was  a 
person  of  great  piety,  charity,  and  gravity,  and  of  a  most  sweet  and  aflable  temper."  It  farther  ap- 
pears, that,  like  liis  successor  Mr.  N.,  he  preached  twice  on  the  Sunday,  and  iiad  a  lecture  in  his 
church  every  Wednesday. 


1 


MEMOIRH  OF  THE  RRV.  JOHN   NEWTON.  45 

lenp^th  broup;ht  before  tlu'  House  of  Lords,  and  (leltrmiiu'd  in  fiivoiir  of  Mr. 
Thornton.  Mr.  N.  priMclied  his  first  sermon  in  tliese  piirislu's,  l)»-c.  I*),  1779, 
from  Kpli.  iv.  IT).  "  Spealvinj;  the  truth  in  h)ve."  It  eontaineci  an  affectionate 
address  to  his  parishioners,  and  was  directly  j)uhlislied  for  tlieir  use. 

Mere  a  new  and  very  distinct  scene  of  action  and  usefulness  was  set  before  him. 
Placed  in  the  centre  of  London — in  an  opulent  neij^lihourhood — with  connexions 
daily  increasini;,  he  had  now  a  course  of  service  to  pursue,  in  several  respects 
diU'erent  from  his  former  at  Olney.  Beinjij,  liowever,  well  acquainted  with  the 
word  of  Cod,  and  the  heart  of  man,  he  proposed  to  himself  no  new  weapons  of 
warfare  for  pulling  down  the  stron^;  holds  of  sin  and  Satan  around  liim.  He 
perceived,  indeed,  most  of  his  parishioners  too  intent  upon  their  wealth  and  mer- 
chandise to  pay  much  regard  to  their  new  minister;  but,  since  they  would  not 
come  to  him,  lie  was  determined  to  go,  as  far  as  he  could,  to  them  ;  and,  there- 
fore, soon  after  his  institution,  he  sent  a  printed  address  to  his  parishioners  :  he 
afterwards  sent  them  another  address,  on  the  usual  prejudices  that  are  taken  up 
against  the  gospel.  What  effects  these  attempts  had  then  upon  them  does  not  ap- 
pear; certain  it  is,  that  these,  and  other  acts  of  his  ministry,  will  be  recollected  by 
them,  when  the  objects  of  their  present  pursuits  are  forgotten  or  lamented. 

I  have  heard  Mr.  N.  speak  with  great  feeling  on  the  circumstances  of  his  last 
important  station.  "  That  one,"  said  he,  "  of  the  most  ignorant,  the  most  mise- 
rable, and  the  most  abandoned  of  slaves,  should  be  plucked  from  his  forlorn  state 
of  exile  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  at  length  be  appointed  minister  of  the  parish 
of  the  first  magistrate  of  the  first  city  in  the  world — that  he  should  there  not  only 
testify  of  such  grace,  but  stand  up  as  a  singular  instance  and  monument  of  it — that 
he  should  be  enabled  to  record  it  in  his  history,  preaching,  and  writings  to  the  world 
at  large — is  a  fact  I  can  contemplate  with  admiration,  but  never  sufficiently  esti- 
mate." This  reflection,  indeed,  was  so  present  to  his  mind  on  all  occasions,  and  in 
all  places,  that  he  seldom  passed  a  single  day  anywhere,  but  he  was  found  referring 
to  the  strange  event,  in  one  way  or  other. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  add,  that  the  latter  part  of  these  Memoirs  leads  me  to 
speak  so  personally  of  my  friend,  that  any  farther  inspection  from  his  own  eye 
was  deemed  improper. 

When  Mr.  N.  came  to  St.  Mary's,  he  resided  for  sometime  in  Charles'  Square, 
Hoxton  ;  afterwards  he  removed  to  Coleman  Street  Buildings,  where  he  continued 
till  his  death.  Being  of  the  most  friendly  and  communicative  disposition,  his 
house  was  open  to  Christians  of  all  ranks  and  denominations.  Here,  like  a 
father  among  his  children,  he  used  to  entertain,  encourage,  and  instruct  his  friends, 
especially  younger  ministers,  or  candidates  for  the  ministry.  Here  also  the  poor, 
the  afflicted,  and  the  tempted,  found  an  asylum  and  a  sympathy,  which  they 
could  scarcely  find,  in  an  equal  degree,  anywhere  besides. 

His  timely  hints  were  often  given  with  much  point,  and  profitable  address,  to 
the  numerous  acquaintance  which  surrounded  him  in  this  public  station.  Some 
time  after  Mr.  N.  had  published  his  Omicron,  and  described  the  three  stages  of 
growth  in  religion,  from  the  blade,  the  ear,  and  the  full  corn  in  the  ear,  distin- 
guishing them  by  the  letters  A,  B,  and  C,  a  conceited  young  minister  wrote  to 
Mr.  N.,  telling  him,  that  he  read  his  own  character  accurately  drawn  in  that  of 
C.  Mr.  N.  wrote  in  reply,  that  in  drawing  the  character  of  C,  or  full  maturity 
he  had  forgotten  to  add,  till  now,  one  prominent  feature  of  C's  character,  namely, 
that  C  never  knew  his  own  face. 

"  It  grieves  me,"  said  Mr.  N.,  "to  see  so  few  of  my  wealthy  parishioners 
come  to  church.  I  always  consider  the  rich  as  under  greater  obligations  to  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel  than  the  poor.  For  at  church,  the  rich  must  hear  the 
whole  truth  as  well  as  others.  There  they  have  no  mode  of  escape.  But  let 
them  once  get  home,  you  will  be  troubled  to  get  at  them ,  and,  when  you  are 
admitted,  you  are  so  fettered  with  punctilio,  so  interrupted  and  damped  witli  the 
frivolous  conversation  of  their  friends,  that,  as  Archbishop  Leightou  says  *  it  is 
well  if  your  visit  does  not  prove  a  blank  or  a  blot.'  " 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

Mr.  N.  used  to  improve  every  occurrence  which  he  could  with  propriety  bnnt^ 
into  the  pulpit.  One  night  he  found  a  bill  put  up  at  St.  Mary  VVoolnoth's,  upon 
which  he  commented  a  great  deal  when  he  came  to  preach.  The  bill  was  to 
this  eflcct ;  "A  young  man  having  come  to  the  possession  of  a  very  considerable 
fortune,  desires  the  prayers  of  the  congregation,  that  he  may  be  preserved  from 
the  snares  to  which  it  exposes  him." — •'  Now,  if  the  man,"  said  Mr.  N.,  "  had 
lost  a  fortune,  the  world  would  not  have  wondered  to  have  seen  him  put  up  a  bill; 
but  this  man  has  been  better  taught." 

Coming  out  of  his  church,  on  a  Wednesday,  a  lady  stopped  him  on  the  steps, 
and  said,  '•'  The  ticket,  of  which  I  held  a  quarter,  is  drawn  a  prize  of  ten  thou- 
sand pounds:  I  know  you  will  congratulate  me  upon  the  occasion."  "  Madam," 
said  he,  "as  for  a  friend  under  temptation,  I  will  endeavour  to  pray  for  you." 

Soon  after  he  came  to  St.  Mary's,  1  remember  to  have  heard  him  say,  in  a  certain 
company,  "  Some  have  observed,  that  I  preach  shorter  sermons  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  and  with  more  caution:  but  this  I  do  upon  principle.  I  suppose  I 
may  have  two  or  three  of  my  bankers  present,  and  some  others  of  my  parish, 
who  have  hitherto  been  strangers  to  my  views  of  truth.  I  endeavour  to  imitate 
the  apostle.  '  I  became,'  says  he,  '  all  things  to  all  men  ;'  but  observe  the  end: 
it  was  in  order  to  gain  some.  The  fowler  must  go  cautiously  to  meet  shy  birds, 
but  he  will  not  leave  his  powder  and  shot  behind  him.  '  I  have  fed  you  with 
milk,'  says  the  apostle  ;  but  there  are  some,  that  are  not  only  for  forcing  strong 
meat,  but  bones  too,  down  tht  throat  of  the  child. — We  must  have  patience  with 
a  single  step  in  the  case  of  an  infant ;  and  there  are  one-step  books  and  sermons, 
which  are  good  in  their  place.  Christ  taught  his  disciples  as  they  were  able  to 
bear  ;  and  it  was  upon  the  same  principle  that  the  apostle  accommodated  himself  to 
prejudice. — Now,"  continued  he,  "  what  I  wish  to  remark  on  these  considera- 
tions is,  that  this  apostolical  principle,  steadily  pursued,  will  render  a  minister 
apparently  inconsistent — superficial  hearers  will  think  him  a  trimmer.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  minister,  destitute  of  the  apostolical  principle  and  intention,  and 
directing  his  whole  force  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  consistency,  may  thus 
seem  to  preserve  it ;  but,  let  me  tell  you,  here  is  only  the  form  of  faithfulness, 
without  the  spirit." 

I  could  not  help  observing  one  day,  how  much  ]Mr.  N.  was  grieved  with  the 
mistake  of  a  minister,  who  appeare-d  to  pay  too  much  attention  to  politics.  "  For 
my  part,"  said  he,  "  I  have  no  temptation  to  turn  politician,  and  much  less  to 
inflame  a  party,  in  these  times.  W^hen  a  ship  is  leaky,  and  a  mutinous  spirit  di- 
vides the  company  on  board,  a  wise  man  would  say,  '  I\Iy  good  friends,  while 
we  are  debating,  the  water  is  gaining  on  us — we  had  better  leave  the  debate, 
and  go  to  the  pumps.' — I  endeavour,"  continued  he,  "  to  turn  my  people's  eyes 
from  instruments  to  God.  I  am  continually  attempting  to  show  them,  how  far 
they  are  from  knowing  either  the  matter  of  fact,  or  the  matter  of  right.  I  incul- 
cate our  great  privileges  in  this  country,  and  advise  a  discontented  man  to  take 
a  lodging  for  a  little  while  in  Russia  or  Prussia." 

Though  no  great  variety  of  anecdote  is  to  be  expected  in  a  course  so  stationary 
as  this  part  of  Mr.  N.'s  life  and  ministry  ;  (for  sometimes  the  course  of  a  single 
day  might  give  the  account  of  a  whole  year,)  yet  that  day  was  so  benevolently 
spent,  that  he  was  found  in  it  "not  only  rejoicing  with  those  that  rejoiced," 
but  literally  "weeping  with  those  that  wept."  The  portrait  which  Goldsmith 
drew  from  imagination,  Mr.  N.  realized  in  fact;  insomuch  that  had  Mr.  N.  sat 
for  his  picture  to  the  poet,  it  could  not  have  been  more  accurately  delineated  than 
by  the  following  lines  in  his  Deserted  Village : — 

•'  Unskilful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power, 
By  doctrines  faslnon'd  to  the  varying  hour  ; 
Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  leani'd  to  prize^ 
More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 
Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
And  even  his  failings  Ican'd  to  tirtue's  side; 


HSMOIRS    OP   TIIR    RKV.  JOHN    NEWTON.  47 

Kut  in  \\\t  duty  prorni)!  at  every  cull, 

J  lo  wali-tiM  mill  \v«';'t,  !»•  pr:iy«'(l  ami  frit,  for  all : 

And  us  11  liird  n»o!)  i'ond  nidrarincul  Irirn, 

To  trin  t  its  now-llcd;^'d  ollsprinj;  to  the  skies, 

llr  trird  oacli  art,  roprovcil  t-arli  dull  delay, 

AKurid  to  brijrlilcr  worldn,  and  It-d  the  way." 

I  remcinber  to  have  hffird  him  say,  u'hcn  spcakinp^  of  his  rontinual  intcrnjp- 
tions,  "  I  SCO  ill  tliis  world  two  licaps  of  hutnan  liappiiicss  and  misery  ;  now  if  I 
can  take  but  the  smaUest  bit  from  one  heap  and  add  to  the  other,  I  carry  a  point 
— If,  as  I  go  hotne,  a  child  has  dropped  a  halfpenny,  and  if,  by  giving  it  anothcfr, 
I  can  wipe  away  its  tears,  I  feel  I  have  done  something.  I  should  be  glad  in- 
deed to  do  greater  tilings,  but  1  will  not  neglect  this.  When  I  hear  a  knock  at 
my  study  door,  I  hear  a  message  from  God  ;  it  may  be  a  lesson  of  instruction, 
perhaps  a  lesson  of  patience;  but,  since  it  is  his  message,  it  must  be  interesting^." 

But  it  was  not  merely  under  his  own  roof  that  his  benevolent  aims  were  thus 
exerted  ;  he  was  found  ready  to  take  an  active  part  in  relieving  the  miserable, 
directing  the  anxious,  or  recovering  the  wanderer,  in  whatever  state  or  place  he 
discovered  such  :  of  which,  take  the  following  instance: — 

Mr. ,  who  is  still  living,  and  who  liolds  a  post  of  great  importance 

abroad,  was  a  youth  of  considerable  talents,  and  wlio  had  had  a  respectable  edu- 
cation. I  am  not  informed  of  his  original  destination  in  point  of  profession  ;  but 
certain,  it  is,  that  he  left  his  parents  in  Scotland,  with  a  design  of  viewing  the 
world  at  large,  and  that  w  ithout  those  pecuniary  resources,  wliich  could  render 
such  an  undertaking  convenient  or  even  practicable.  Yet  having  the  sanguine 
expectations  of  youth,  together  with  its  inexperience,  he  deterrainately  pursued 
his  plan.  I  have  seen  an  account  from  his  own  hand,  of  the  strange,  but  by  no 
means  dishonourable  resources  to  which  he  was  reduced  in  the  pursuit  of  this 
scheme ;  nor  can  romance  exceed  the  detail.  But  the  particulars  of  his  long 
journey,  till  he  arrived  in  London,  and  those  which  have  since  occurred,  would 
not  be  proper,  at  present,  for  any  one  to  record  except  liimself ;  and  I  cannot  but 
wish  he  would  favour  the  world  with  them,  on  the  principle  whicli  led  Mr.  N. 
to  write  liis  Narrative.  To  London,  however,  he  came;  and  then  he  seemed  to 
come  to  himself.  He  had  heard  Mr.  N. 's  character,  and  on  a  Sunday  evening 
he  came  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  and  stood  in  one  of  the  aisles  while  Mr.  N. 
preached.  In  the  course  of  that  week  he  wrote  Mr.  N.  some  account  of  his  ad- 
venture, and  state  of  mind.  Such  circumstances  could  be  addressed  to  no  man 
more  properly.  Mr.  N.'s  favourite  maxim  was  often  in  his  mouth,  more  often 
in  his  actions,  and  always  in  his  heart : — 

"  Haud  ignara  mail,  miscris  succurrcre  disco." 

Mr.  N.  therefore  gave  notice  from  the  pulpit  on  the  following  Sunday  evening, 
that,  if  the  person  was  present  who  had  sent  him  such  a  letter,  he  would  be  glad 
to  speak  with  him. 

Mr. gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  came  to  Mr.  N.'s  housC;  where 

a  friendship  began,  which  continued  till  Mr.  N.'s  death.  Mr.  N.  not  only  afforded 
this  youth  the  instruction,  which  he,  at  this  period,  so  deeply  needed  ;  but 
marking  his  fine  abilities  and  corrected  inclination,  he  introduced  him  to  Henry 
Thornton  Esq.;  who,  inheriting  his  father's  unbounded  liberality  and  determined 

adherence  to  the  cause  of  real  religion,  readily  patronized  the  stranger.    Mr. 

was,  by  the  munificence  of  this  gentleman,  supported  through  a  university  edu- 
cation, and  was  afterwards  ordained  to  the  curacy  of .     It  was,  however, 

thought  expedient,  that  his  talents  should  be  employed  in  an  important  station 
abroad,  which  he  readily  undertook,  and  in  which  he  now  maintains  a  very  dis- 
tinguished character. 

It  ought  not  to  be  concealed,  that  Mr. ,  since  his  advancement,  has 

not  only  returned  his  patron  the  whole  expense  of  his  university  education,  but 


48  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

has  also  placed  in  his  hands  an  equal  sum,  for  the  education  of  some  pious  youth, 
who  mijrlit  be  deemed  worthy  of  that  assistance  once  afforded  to  himself! 

Mr.  N.  used  to  spend  a  month  or  two,  annually,  at  the  house  of  some  friend  in 
the  country  ;  he  always  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  his  congregation  before  he 
departed,  and  spake  of  his  leaving  town  as  quite  uncertain  of  returning  to  it, 
considering  the  variety  of  incidents  which  might  prevent  that  return.  Nothing 
was  more  remarkable  than  his  constant  habit  of  regarding  the  hand  of  God  in 
every  event,  however  trivial  it  might  appear  to  others.  On  every  occasion — in 
the  concerns  of  every  hour — matters  public  or  private,  like  Enoch,  he  '-walked 
with  God."  Take  a  single  instance  of  his  state  of  mind  in  this  respect.  In  walk- 
ing to  his  church,  he  would  say,  "  *  The  way  of  man  is  not  in  himself,'  nor  can 
he  conceive  what  belongs  to  a  single  step.  When  I  go  to  St.  Mary  Woolnoth,  it 
seems  the  same  whether  I  turn  down  Lothbury  or  go  through  the  Old  Jewry  ; 
but  the  going  through  one  street  and  not  another,  may  produce  an  effect  of  lasting 
consequences.  A  man  cut  down  my  hammock  in  sport,  but  had  he  cut  it  down 
half-an-hour  later,  I  had  not  been  here  ;  as  the  exchange  of  crew  was  then  ma- 
king. A  man  made  a  smoke  on  the  sea-shore  at  the  time  a  ship  passed,  which 
was  thereby  brought  to,  and  afterwards  brought  me  to  England." 

Mr.  N.  had  experienced  a  severe  stroke  soon  after  he  came  to  St.  Mary's  and 
while  he  resided  in  Charles's  Square,  in  the  death  of  his  niece.  Miss  Eliza  Cun- 
ningham. He  loved  her  with  the  affection  of  a  parent,  and  she  was,  indeed, 
truly  lovely.  He  had  brought  her  up,  and  had  observed,  that,  with  the  most 
amiable  natural  qualities,  she  possessed  a  real  piety.  With  every  possible  atten- 
tion from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newton  and  their  friends,  they  saw  her  gradually  sink 
into  the  arms  of  death  ;  but  fully  prepared  to  meet  him  as  a  messenger  sent  from 
a  yet  kinder  Father,  to  whom  she  departed,  October  6th,  1785,  aged  fourteen 
years  and  eight  months.  On  this  occasion  Mr.  N.  published  some  brief  memoirs 
of  her  character  and  death. 

In  the  year  1784  and  1785  Mr.  N.  preached  a  course  of  sermons,  on  an  occa- 
sion, of  which  he  gives  the  following  account  in  his  first  discourse  :  "  Conversa- 
tion in  almost  every  company,  for  some  time  past,  has  much  turned  upon  the 
commemoration  of  Handel,  and  particularly  on  his  Oratorio  of  the  Messiah.  I 
mean  to  lead  your  meditations  to  the  language  of  the  oratorio,  and  to  consider, 
in  their  order  (if  the  Lord,  on  whom  our  breath  depends,  shall  be  pleased  to  af- 
ford life,  ability,  and  opportunity,)  the  several  sublime  and  interesting  passages 
of  Scripture,  which  are  the  basis  of  that  admired  composition."  In  the  year 
1786  he  published  these  discourses,  in  two  volumes  octavo.  There  is  a  passage 
so  original,  at  the  beginning  of  his  fourth  sermon,  from  Mai.  iii.  1 — 3,  "  The 
Lord,  whom  ye  seek,  shall  suddenly  come  to  his  temple,"  &lc.  that  I  shall  tran- 
scribe it  for  the  use  of  such  as  have  not  seen  these  discourses ;  at  the  same 
time,  it  will,  in  a  few  words,  convey  Mr.  N.'s  idea  of  the  usual  performance  of 
this  oratorio,  or  attending  its  performance,  in  present  circumstances. 

"  '  Whereunto  shall  we  liken  the  people  of  this  generation,  and  to  what  are 
they  like  ?'  I  represent  to  myself  a  number  of  persons,  of  various  characters, 
involved  in  one  common  charge  of  high  treason.  They  are  already  in  a  state  of 
confinement,  but  not  yet  brought  to  their  trial.  The  facts,  however,  are  so  plain, 
and  the  evidence  against  them  so  strong  and  pointed,  that  there  is  not  the  least 
doubt  of  their  guilt  being  fully  proved,  and  that  nothing  but  a  pardon  can  pre- 
serve them  from  punishment.  In  this  situation,  it  should  seem  their  wisdom  to 
avail  themselves  of  every  expedient  in  their  power  for  obtaining  mercy.  But 
they  are  entirely  regardless  of  their  danger,  and  wholly  taken  up  with  contriving 
methods  of  amusing  themselves,  that  they  may  pass  away  the  term  of  their  im- 
prisonment with  as  much  cheerfulness  aS  possible.  Among  other  resources,  they 
call  in  the  assistance  of  music.  And  amidst  a  great  variety  of  subjects  in  this 
way,  they  are  particularly  pleased  with  one.  They  choose  to  make  the  solemni- 
ties of  their  impending  trial,  the  character  of  their  Judge,  the  methods  of  his 
procedure,  and  the  awful  sentence  to  which  they  are  exposed,  the  groundwork 


MFMOIRR  OP  THE  REV.   JOHN   NKWTON.  49 

of  a  musical  rntiTlninmrnt.  And,  us  if  tlicy  wore  (juito  unconrrrnrtl  in  the 
«vt'nt,  tlu'ir  atttiition  is  chit'lly  fixt'd  iij)()n  tlu'  Kkill  of  the  composer,  in  adjiptiu^ 
t\\c  si\\c  of  his  music  to  the  very  soKmiui  hinp;uuf;e  and  subject  with  which  they 
arc  trilliufi;.  The  kin«;,  however,  out  of  his  j;reat  cU'meucy  and  compassion  to- 
wards tliose  who  have  no  pity  for  themselves,  prevents  them  with  his  goodness. 
Undosired  by  them,  he  sends  them  a  gracious  message.  He  assures  them,  that 
he  is  unwilling  they  should  sulVer  :  he  re(|uires,  yea,  he  entreats  them  to  submit. 
He  points  out  a  way  in  which  their  confession  and  submission  shall  be  cer- 
tainly accepted  ;  and  in  this  way,  which  he  condescends  to  prescribe,  he  offers 
them  a  free  and  a  full  pardon.  But  instead  of  taking  a  single  step  towards  a  com- 
pliance with  his  goodness,  they  set  his  message  likewise  to  music:  and  this,  together 
with  a  description  of  their  present  state,  and  of  the  fearful  doom  awaiting  them 
if  they  continue  obstinate,  is  sung  for  their  diversion,  accompanied  with  the 
sound  of  cornet,  flute,  harp,  sackbut,  psaltery,  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds  of  in- 
struments. Surely,  if  such  a  case  as  I  have  supposed  could  be  found  in  real  life, 
though  I  might  admire  the  musical  taste  of  these  people,  I  should  commiserate 
their  insensibility  !" 

But  "clouds  return  after  the  rain:"  a  greater  loss  than  that  of  Miss  C.  was 
to  follow.  P^nough  has  been  said  in  these  Memoirs  already,  to  show  the  more 
than  ordinary  affection  Mr.  N.  felt  for  her  who  had  been  so  long  his  idol,  as  he 
used  to  call  her ;  of  which  I  shall  add  but  one  more  instance,  out  of  many  that 
might  easily  be  collected. 

Being  with  him  at  the  house  of  a  lady  at  Blackheath,  we  stood  at  a  window, 
which  had  a  prospect  of  Shooter's  Hill.  "  Ah,"  said  Mr.  N.,  "  I  remember  the 
many  journeys  I  took  from  London  to  stand  at  the  top  of  that  hill,  in  order  to 
look  towards  the  part  in  which  Mrs.  N.  then  lived  :  not  that  I  could  see  the  spot 
itself,  after  travelling  several  miles,  for  she  lived  far  beyond  what  I  could  see, 
when  on  the  hill  ;  but  it  gratified  me  even  to  look  towards  the  spot:  and  this 
I  did  always  once,  and  sometimes  twice  a  week."  "  Why,"  said  I,  "this  is 
more  like  one  of  the  vagaries  of  Romance  than  of  real  life."  "True,"  replied 
he,  "  but  real  life  has  extravagances,  that  would  not  be  admitted  to  appear  in  a 
well-written  romance — they  would  be  said  to  be  out  of  nature." 

In  such  a  continued  habit  of  excessive  attachment,  it  is  evident  how  keenly 
Mr.  N.  must  have  felt,  while  he  observed  the  progress  of  a  threatening  indura- 
tion in  her  breast.  This  tumour  seemed  to  have  arisen  from  a  blow  she  received 
before  she  left  Liverpool.  The  pain  it  occasioned  at  the  time  soon  wore  off,  but 
a  small  lump  remained  in  the  part  affected.  In  October  1788,  on  the  tumour's 
increasing,  she  applied  to  an  eminent  surgeon,  who  told  her  it  was  a  cancer,  and 
now  too  large  for  extraction,  and  that  he  could  only  recommend  quiet.  As  the 
spring  of  1789  advanced,  her  malady  increased  ;  and  though  she  was  able  to  bear 
a  journey  to  Southampton,  from  which  she  returned,  in  other  respects,  tolerably 
well ;  she  grew  gradually  worse  with  the  cancer  till  she  expired,  December  15, 1790. 

Mr.  N.  made  this  remark  on  her  death,  "  Just  before  Mrs.  N.'s  disease  became 
so  formidable,  I  was  preaching  on  the  waters  of  Egypt  being  turned  into  blood. 
The  Egyptians  had  idolized  their  river,  and  God  made  them  loathe  it.  I  waa 
apprehensive  it  would  soon  be  a  similar  case  with  me."  During  the  very  affect- 
ing season  of  Mrs.  N.'s  dissolution,  Mr.  N.,  like  David,  wept  and  prayed  ;  but  the 
desire  of  his  eyes  being  taken  away  by  the  stroke,  he  too,  like  David,  "  arose  from 
the  earth,  and  came  into  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  and  worshipped,"  and  that  in  a 
manner  which  surprised  some  of  his  friends. 

I  must  own  I  was  not  one  of  those  who  saw  any  thing  that  might  not  be  ex- 
l^etted  from  such  a  man,  surrounded  with  such  circumstances.  I  did  not  wonder 
!at  his  undertaking  to  preach  Mrs.  N.'s  funeral  Sermon,  on  the  following  Sunday, 
«.t  St.  Mary's:  since  I  always  considered  him  as  an  original,  and  his  case  quite 
an  exception  to  general  habits  in  many  respects.  There  also  could  be  no  ques- 
tion as  to  the  affection  he  had  borne  to  the  deceased  :  it  had  even  prevailed,  as  he 
readilv  allowed,  to  an  eccentric  and  blamable  degree ;  and  indeed  after  her  re^ 
G 


BO  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

moval,  he  used  to  observe  an  annual  seclusion,  for  a  special  recollection  of  her, 
ivhoin  through  the  year  he  had  never  forgotten,  and  from  which  proceeded  a  sort 
of  little  elegies  or  sonnets  to  her  memory.  But  he  clearly  recognized  the  will  of  God 
in  the  removal  of  his  idol,  and  reasoned  as  David  did  on  the  occasion:  "  While 
she  was  yet  alive  I  fasted  and  wept:  for  I  said,  who  can  tell  whether  God  will  be 
gracious  to  me,  that  she  may  live  ?  But,  now  she  is  dead,  wherefore  should  I  fast? 
Can  I  bring  her  back  again  ?  I  shall  go  to  her,  but  she  shall  not  return  to  me." 

Besides  which,  Mr.  N.  had  a  favourite  sentiment,  which  I  have  heard  him  ex- 
press in  different  ways  long  before  he  had  so  special  an  occasion  for  illustrating 
it  in  practice.  *'  God  in  his  providence,"  he  used  to  say,  "  is  continually  bring- 
ing about  occasion  to  demonstrate  characters."  He  used  to  instance  the  case  of 
Achan  and  Judas  among  bad  men ;  and  that  of  St.  Paul,  Acts  xxvii.  among  good 
ones.  "  If  any  one,"  said  he,  "  had  asked  the  centurion,  who  Paul  the  prisoner 
was,  that  sailed  with  them  on  board  the  ship — it  is  probable  he  would  have  thus 
replied,  '  He  is  a  troublesome  enthusiast,  who  had  lately  joined  himself  to  a 
certain  sect.  These  people  affirm,  that  a  Jewish  malefactor,  who  was  crucified 
some  years  ago  at  Jerusalem,  rose  the  third  day  from  the  dead ;  and  this  Paul  is 
mad  enough  to  assert,  that  Jesus,  the  leader  of  their  sect,  is  not  only  now  alive, 
but  that  he  himself  has  seen  him,  and  is  resolved  to  live  and  die  for  him — Poor 
crazy  creature !'  But  God  made  use  of  this  occasion  to  discover  the  real  charac- 
ter of  Paul,  and  taught  the  centurion,  from  the  circumstances  which  foUow^ed, 
to  whom  it  was  he  owed  his  direction  in  the  storm,  and  for  whose  sake  he  re- 
ceived his  preservation  through  it." 

In  all  trying  occasions,  therefore,  Mr.  N.  was  particularly  impressed  with  the 
idea  of  a  Christian,  and  especially  of  a  Christian  minister,  being  called  to  stand 
forward  as  an  example  to  his  flock — to  feel  himself  placed  in  a  post  of  honour — 
a  post  in  which  he  may  not  only  glorify  God,  but  also  forcibly  demonstrate  the 
peculiar  supports  of  the  gospel.  More  especially,  when  this  could  be  done  (as 
in  his  own  case)  from  no  doubtful  motive ;  then  it  may  be  expedient  to  leave  the 
path  of  ordinary  custom,  for  the  greater  reason  of  exhibiting  both  the  doctrines  of 
truth,  and  the  experience  of  their  power. 

Though  I  professedly  publish  none  of  Mr.  N.'s  letters,  for  reasons  hereafter  as- 
signed, yet  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  insert  part  of  one,  with  which  I  am  fa- 
voured by  J.  F ,  Esq.  of  Stanmore  Hill,  written  to  him  while  at  Rome,  and 

dated  December  5th,  1796.  It  shows  the  interest  which  the  w-riter  took  in 
the  safety  of  his  friend,  and  his  address  in  attempting  to  break  the  enchantments 
with  which  men  of  taste  are  surrounded,  when  standing  in  the  centre  of  the 
fine  arts. 

"  The  true  Christian,  in  strict  propriety  of  speech,  has  no  home  here;  he  is, 
and  must  be,  a  stranger  and  a  pilgrim  upon  earth  :  his  citizenship,  treasure,  and 
real  home  are  in  a  better  world  ;  and  every  step  he  takes,  whether  to  the  east,  or 
to  the  west,  is  a  step  nearer  to  his  Father's  house.  On  the  other  hand,  when  in 
the  path  of  duty,  he  is  always  at  home  ;  for  the  whole  earth  is  the  Lord's:  and  as 
we  see  the  same  sun  in  England  or  Italy,  in  Europe  or  Asia,  so  wherever  he  is, 
he  equally  sets  the  Lord  always  before  him  ;  and  finds  himself  equally  near  the 
throne  of  grace  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places.  God  is  every  where,  and,  by  faith  in  the 
great  Mediator,  he  dwells  in  God,  and  God  in  him;  to  him  that  line  of  Horace 
may  be  applied  in  the  best  sense, — 

"  Coelum,  non  animum  mutant,  qui  trans  mare  currunt." 

"  I  trust,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  will  carry  out  and  bring  home  with  you,  a  de- 
termination similar  to  that  of  the  patriarch  Jacob  ;  who  vowed  a  vow,  saying,  '  If 
God  will  be  with  me,  and  will  keep  me  in  the  way  that  I  go,  and  will  give  me 
bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  so  that  I  come  again  to  my  father's  house  in 

Eeace,  then  shall  the  Lord  be  my  God  1'    May  the  Lord  himself  write  it  on  you 
cart ! 


MEMOius  or  Tin:   ki:v.  joiin   m.wton.  61 

"  You  are  now  at  Homo,  the  ctiitrc  of  tlie  line  arts;  a  plaro  abounding  with 
every  thino;  to  n;ra(iry  a  person  of  your  tasti*.  Atlu'ii-s  liad  the  prt'-tiiiitK  nee  in 
the  aposlli'  Paul's  tinie;  and  I  think  it  liif^lily  probable,  from  many  passji^rs  in 
liis  \vritinj;s,  tliat  be  likewise  bad  a  taste  capable  of  admiring  and  relisbinj;  tlie 
beauties  of  paintini;,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  which  lie  could  not  but  observe 
durinij;  bis  abode  in  that  city  ;  but  then  be  bad  a  liigber,  a  spiritual,  a  divine 
taste,  which  was  <;r».'atly  shocked  and  c;rieved  by  the  ipjnorance,  idolatry,  and 
^vickedness,  which  surrounded  him,  insomuch  that  be  could  atteiul  to  nothing 
else.  This  taste,  which  cannot  be  acquired  by  any  efl'ort  or  study  of  ours,  but  is 
freely  bestowed  on  all  w  ho  sincerely  ask  it  of  the  Lord,  divests  tin;  vanities, 
which  the  world  admire,  of  their  glare ;  and  enables  us  to  judge  of  the  most 
splendid  and  specious  ^^  orks  of  men,  who  know  not  God,  according  to  the  de- 
claration of  the  prophet,  '  They  hatch  cockatrice  eggs,  and  weave  the  spider's 
web.'  Much  ingenuity  is  displayed  in  the  weaving  of  a  cobweb;  but  when 
finished  it  is  worthless  and  useless  :  incubation  requires  close  diligence  and  at- 
tention ;  if  the  hen  is  too  long  from  her  nest,  the  egg  is  spoiled  ;  but  why  should 
she  sit  at  all  upon  the  egg,  and  watch  it,  and  warm  it  night  and  day,  if  it  only 
produce  a  cockatrice  at  last  ?  Thus  vanity  or  mischief  are  the  chief  rulers  of  un- 
sanctilied  genius  ;  the  artists  spin  webs,  and  the  philosophers,  by  their  learned 
speculations,  hatch  cockatrices,  to  poison  themselves  and  their  fellow-creatures : 
few  of  either  sort  have  one  serious  thought  of  that  awful  eternity,  upon  the 
brink  of  which  they  stand  for  a  while,  aud  into  the  depth  of  which  they  suc- 
cessively fall. 

"  A  part  of  the  sentence  denounced  against  the  city,  which  once  stood  upon 
seven  hills,  is  so  pointed  and  graphical,  that  I  must  transcribe  it :  '  And  the 
voice  of  harpers,  and  musicians,  and  pipers,  and  trumpeters,  shall  be  heard  no 
more  at  all  in  thee ;  and  no  craftsman,  of  whatsoever  craft  he  be,  shall  be  found 
any  more  in  thee,  and  the  light  of  a  candle  shall  no  more  be  seen  in  thee.' 
Now,  I  am  informed,  that,  upon  certain  occasions,  the  whole  cupola  of  St.  Peter's 
is  covered  with  lamps,  and  affords  a  very  magnificent  spectacle  :  if  I  saw  it,  it 
would  remind  me  of  that  time  when  there  will  not  be  the  shining  of  a  single 
candle  in  the  city  ;  for  the  sentence  must  be  executed,  and  the  hour  may  be  ap- 
proaching : — 

Sic  transit  gloria  mundi ! 

"  You  kindly  inquire  after  my  health  :  myself  and  family  are,  through  the  di- 
vine favour,  perfectly  well ;  yet,  healthy  as  I  am,  I  labour  under  a  growing  dis- 
order, for  which  there  is  no  cure — I  mean  old  age.  I  am  not  sorry  it  is  a  mortal 
disease,  from  which  no  one  recovers  ;  for  who  would  live  always  in  such  a 
world  as  this,  who  has  a  scriptural  hope  of  an  inheritance  in  the  world  of  light  ? 
I  am  now  in  my  seventy-second  year,  and  seem  to  have  lived  long  enough  for 
myself;  I  have  known  something  of  the  evil  of  life,  and  have  had  a  large  share 
of  the  good.  1  know  what  the  world  can  do,  and  what  it  cannot  do  :  it  can 
neither  give  nor  take  away  that  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding; 
it  cannot  soothe  a  wounded  conscience,  nor  enable  us  to  meet  death  with  comfort. 
That  you,  my  dear  sir,  may  have  an  abiding  and  abounding  experience  that  the 
gospel  is  a  catholicon,  adapted  to  all  our  wants  and  all  our  feelings,  and  a  suitable 
help  when  every  other  help  fails,  is  the  sincere  and  ardent  prayer  of 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

-  JOHN  NEWTON." 

But  in  proportion  as  Mr.  N.  felt  the  vanity  of  the  pursuits  he  endeavoured  to 
expose  in  the  foregoing  letter,  he  was  as  feelingly  alive  to  whatever  regarded 
eternal  concerns.  Take  an  instance  of  this,  in  a  visit  which  he  paid  to  another 
friend.  This  friend  was  a  minister,  who  affected  great  accuracy  in  his  discourses, 
and  whO;  on  that  Sunday,  had  nearly  occupied  an  hour  in  insisting  on  several 


b'2  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

laboured  and  nice  distinctions  made  in  his  subject.  As  he  had  a  high  estimation 
of  Mr.  N.'s  judgment,  he  inquired  of  him,  as  they  walked  home,  whether  he 
thought  the  distinctions  just  now  insisted  on  were  full  and  judicious  ?  Mr.  N. 
said  he  thought  them  not  full,  as  a  very  important  one  had  been  omitted. 
"  What  can  that  be  ?"  said  the  minister  ;  '•  for  I  had  taken  more  than  ordinary  care 
to  enumerate  them  fully."  "  I  think  not,"  replied  Mr.  N.  ;  "  for  when  many 
of  your  congregation  had  travelled  several  miles  for  a  meal,  I  think  you  should 
not  have  forgotten  the  important  distinction  which  must  ever  exist  between  meat 
and  bones." 

In  the  year  1790,  Mr.  M.  had  the  honorary  degree  of  D.  D.  conferred  upon 
him  by  the  University  of  New-Jersey  in  America,  and  the  diploma  sent  him. 
He  also  received  a  uork  in  two  volumes,  dedicated  to  him  with  the  above  title 
annexed  to  his  name.  Mr.  N.  wrote  the  author  a  grateful  acknowledgment  for 
the  work,  but  begged  to  decline  an  honour  which  he  never  intended  to  accept. 
"  I  am  (said  he,)  as  one  born  out  of  due  time.  I  have  neither  the  pretension  nor 
wish  to  honours  of  this  kind.  However,  therefore,  the  University  may  overrate 
my  attainments,  and  thus  show  their  respect,  I  must  not  forget  myself.  It  would 
be  both  vain  and  improper  were  I  to  concur  in  it." 

But  Mr.  N.  had  yet  another  storm  to  weather.  While  we  were  contemplating 
the  long  and  rough  voyage  he  had  passed,  and  thought  he  had  only  now  to  rest 
in  a  quiet  haven,  and  with  a  fine  sunsetting  at  the  close  of  the  evening  of  his  life, 
clouds  began  to  gather  again,  and  seemed  to  threaten  a  wreck  at  the  very  entry 
of  the  port.* 

He  used  to  make  excursions  in  the  summer  to  different  friends  in  the  country, 
endeavouring  to  make  these  visits  profitable  to  them  and  their  neighbours,  by 
his  continual  prayers,  and  the  expositions  he  gave  of  the  scriptures  read  at  their 
morning  and  evening  worship.  I  have  heard  of  some,  who  were  first  brought 
to  the  knowledge  of  themselves  and  of  God  by  attending  his  exhortations  on 
these  occasions ;  for,  indeed,  besides  what  he  undertook  in  a  more  stated  way  at 
the  church,  he  seldom  entered  a  room,  but  something  both  profitable  and  entertain- 
ing fell  from  his  lips.  After  the  death  of  Miss  Cunningham  and  Mrs.  N.,  his 
companion  in  these  summer  excursions  was  his  other  niece,  IMiss  Elizabeth  Cat- 
lett.  This  young  lady  had  also  been  brought  up  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  N.  with  Miss 
Cunningham,  and  on  the  death  of  the  two  latter,  she  became  the  object  of  Mr. 
N.'s  naturally  affectionate  disposition.  She  also  became  quite  necessary  to  him 
by  her  administrations  in  his  latter  years ;  she  watched  him,  walked  with  him, 
visited  wherever  he  went :  when  his  sight  failed,  she  read  to  him,  divided  his 
food,  and  was  unto  him  all  that  a  dutiful  daughter  could  be. 

But,  in  the  year  1601,  a  nervous  disorder  seized  her,  by  which  Mr.  N.  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  her  being  separated  from  him.  During  the  twelvemonth  it 
lasted,  the  weight  of  the  affliction,  added  to  his  weight  of  years,  seemed  to  over- 
whelm him.  I  extracted  a  few  of  his  reflections  on  the  occasion,  written  on 
some  blank  leaves  in  an  edition  of  his  Letters  to  a  Wife,  which  he  lent  me  on  my 
undertaking  these  Memoirs,  and  subjoin  them  in  a  note.t  It  may  give  the  reader 

*  In  a  MS.  note  on  a  letter,  dated  15th  Dec.  HPT,  he  writes,  "  Though  I  am  not  so  sensibly  af- 
fected as  I  could  wish,  I  hope  I  am  truly  affected  by  the  frequent  reviews  I  make  of  my  past  life. 
Perhaps  the  annals  of  thy  church  scarcely  aflord  an  instance  in  all  respects  so  sincrular.  Perhaps  thy 
grace  may  have  recovered  some  from  an  equal  degree  of  ai)ostacy,  infidelity,  and  profligacy ;  but  fevT 
of  them  have  been  redeemed  from  such  a  stite  of  miserv  and  depression  as  1  was  in,  upon  the  coast  of 
Africa,  when  thy  unsought  mercy  wrought  for  my  deliverance  :  but  that  such  a  wretch  should  not 
only  be  spared  and  pardoned,  but  reserved  to  the  honour  of  preaching  thy  gospel,  which  he  had  blas- 
phemed and  renounced,  and  at  length  l>e  placed  in  a  very  public  situation,  and  favoured  with  accept- 
ance and  usefulness,  both  from  the  jiulpit  and  tlie  press :  "so  that  my  poor  name  is  known  in  most  parts 
of  the  world,  where  there  are  any  who  know  thee — tliisis  wondeful  indeed!  The  more  thou  hast  ex- 
alted me,  the  more  I  ought  to  abase  myseU'." 

+  "  August  1,  1801.  I  now  enter  my  77th  year.  I  have  been  exercised  tliis  year  with  a  tr\  ing  and 
unexpected  change ;  but  it  is  by  thy  aj-pointnicnt,  my  gracious  Lord  ;  and  thou  art  unchangeably  wise, 
good,  and  merciful.  Thou  gavest  me  my  dear  adopted  c'ljld.  Thou  didst  own  my  endeavours  to 
bring  her  up  for  thee.     I  have  no  doubt  that  thou  hast  called  her  by  thy  grace.    I  thank  thee  for  th« 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  RKV.   JOHN   NF.WTON.  Q3 

pleasure  to  be  informed,  tliat  Miss  Catlett  returned  home — ;;radiially  recovered — 
aud  afterwards  married  a  worthy  man  of  the  name  of  Smith. 

It  was  with  a  mixture  of  (h'licrht  and  surprise,  that  the  friends  and  hearers  ol 
this  eminent  servant  of  (Jod  bt-hi-ld  him  brin«;in<;  forth  sueli  a  measure  of  fruit  ig 
extreme  aj;e.  Thou<ijh  then  ahnost  eia^hty  years  ohl,  liis  si;^lit  nearly  gone,  and 
incapable,  throu|;h  deafness,  of  joininj];  in  conversation,  yet  his  publi(!  ministry 
was  refifularly  continued,  and  maintained  with  a  considerable  degree  of  his  former 
animation.  His  memory,  indeed,  was  observed  to  fail,  but  his  judf^ment  in  di- 
vine thin«;s  still  remained  ;  and  thoup;h  some  depression  of  spirits  was  observed, 
which  he  used  to  account  for  from  his  advanced  age,  his  perception,  taste,  and 
zeal  for  the  truths  he  had  long  received  and  taught,  were  evident.  Like 
Simeon,  having  seen  the  salvation  of  the  Lord,  he  now  only  waited  and  prayed 
to  depart  in  peace. 

After  Mr.  N.  was  turned  of  eighty,  some  of  his  friends  feared  he  might  continue 
his  public  ministrations  too  long  ;  they  marked  not  only  his  infirmities  in  the 
pulpit,  but  felt  much  on  account  of  the  decrease  of  his  strength,  and  of  his  oc- 
casional depressions.  Conversing  with  him  in  January  180(5  on  the  latter,  he 
observed,  that  he  had  experienced  nothing  which  in  the  least  affected  the  princi- 
ples he  had  felt  and  taught ;  that  his  depressions  were  the  natural  result  of  four- 
score years,  and  that,  at  any  age,  we  can  only  enjoy  that  comfort  from  our 
principles  which  God  is  pleased  to  send.  "  But  (replied  I,)  in  the  article  of 
public  preaching,  might  it  not  be  best  to  consider  your  work  as  done,  and  stop 
before  you  evidently  discover  you  can  speak  no  longer?"  "I  cannot  stop,'* 
said  he,  raising  his  voice  ;  What !  shalt  the  old  African  blasphemer  stop  while 
he  can  speak?" 

In  every  future  visit  I  perceived  old  age  making  rapid  strides.  At  length  his 
friends  found  some  difficulty  in  making  themselves  known  to  him:  his  sight,  hft 
hearing,  and  his  recollection  exceedingly  failed  ;  but,  being  mercifully  kept  from 
pain,  he  generally  appeared  easy  and  cheerful.  Whatever  he  uttered  was  per- 
lectly  consistent  with  the  principles  he  had  so  long  and  io  honourably  main- 
tained. Calling  to  see  him  a  few  days  before  he  died,  with  one  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  we  could  not  make  him  recollect  either  of  us ;  but  seeing  him 
afterwards,  when  sitting  up  in  his  chair,  I  found  so  much  intellect  remaining  as 
produced  a  short  and  affectionate  reply,  though  he  was  utterly  incapable  of  con- 
versation. 

Mr.  N.  declined  in  this  very  gradual  way,  till  at  length  it  was  painful  to  ask 
him  a  question,  or  attempt  to  rouse  faculties  almost  gone  ;  still  his  friends  were 
anxious  to  get  a  word  from  him,  and  those  friends  who  survive  him  will  be  as  anx- 
ious to  learn  the  state  of  his  mind  in  his  latest  hours.  It  is  quite  natural  thus  to 
inquire,  though  it  is  not  important,  how  such  a  decided  character  left  this  world. 
I  have  heard  Mr.  N.  say,  w^hen  he  has  heard  particular  inquiry  made  about  the 
last  expressions  of  an  eminent  believer,  "Tell  me  not  how  the  man  died,  but 
how  he  lived." 

Still  I  say  it  is  natural  to  inquire,  and  I  will  meet  the  desire,  not  by  trying  to 
expand  uninteresting  particulars,  but  as  far  as  I  can  collect  encouraging  facts  i 

many  years  comfort  (ten)  I  have  had  in  her,  and  for  the  attention  and  affection  she  has  always  shown 
me,  exceeding  that  of  most  daughters  to  their  own  parents.  Thou  hast  now  tried  me,  as  thou  didst 
Abraham,  in  my  old  age ;  when  my  eyes  are  failing,  and  my  strength  declines.  Thou  hast  called  for 
my  Isaac,  who  had  so  long  been  my  chief  stay  and  staff;  but  it  was  thy  bleC'sing  that  made  her  so.  A 
nervous  disorder  has  seized  her,  and  I  desire  to  leave  her  under  thy  care  ;  and  chiefly  pray  for  myself, 
that  I  may  be  enabled  to  await  thy  time  and  will,  without  betraying  any  signs  of  impatience  or  de- 
spondency unbecoming  my  profession  and  character.  Hitherto  thou  hast  helped  me ;  and  to  thee  I 
look  for  help  in  future.  Let  all  issue  in  thy  glory,  that  my  friends  and  hearers  may  be  encouraged  by 
seeing  how  I  am  supported  :  let  thy  strength  be  manifested  in  my  weakness,  and  thy  grace  be  sufficient 
for  me,  and  let  all  finally  work  tofrfthcr  lor  cur  good.  Amen.'  I  aim  to  say  from  my  heart,  not  my 
will,  but  thine  be  done.  But  thou:-ii  thou  hast  in  a  measure  made  my  spirit  willing,  thou  knowest, 
and  I  feci,  that  the  flesh  is  weak.  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  my  unbelief.  Lord,  1  submit,  subdue 
every  rebellious  thought  that  dares  arise  against  thy  wilL  Spare  my  eyes,  if  it  please  thee ;  but,  above 
*1I,  strengthen  my  faith  and  love." 


54  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

and  I  learn  from  a  paper,  kindly  sent  me  by  his  family,  all  that  is  interesting  and 
authentic. 

About  a  month  before  Mr.  N.'s  death,  Mr.  Smith's  neice  was  sitting  by  him, 
to  whom  he  said,  "  It  is  a  great  thing  to  die  ;  and  when  flesh  and  heart  fail,  to 
have  God  for  the  strength  of  our  heart,  and  our  portion  for  ever :  I  know  whom 
I  have  believed,  and  he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed,  against 
tliat  great  day.  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness, 
which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge,  shall  give  me  at  that  day." 

When  Mrs.  Smith  came  into  the  room,  he  said,  "  I  have  been  meditating  on 
a  subject,  *  Come,  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath 
.done  for  my  soul.'  " 

At  another  time  he  said,  "More  light,  more  love,  more  liberty — Hereafter  I 
hope,  when  I  shut  my  eyes  on  the  things  of  time,  I  shall  open  them  in  a  better 
world.  What  a  thing  it  is  to  live  under  the  shadow  of  the  wings  of  the  Al- 
mighty !  I  am  going  the  way  of  all  flesh."  And  when  one  replied,  "  The  Lord  is 
gracious,"  he  answered,  "If  it  were  not  so,  how  could  I  dare  to  stand  before 
him  ?" 

The  Wednesday  before  he  died,  Mrs.  G asked  him  if  his  mind  was  com- 
fortable ;  he  replied,  "  I  am  satisfied  with  the  Lord's  will." 

Mr.  N.  seemed  sensible  to  his  last  hour,  but  expressed  nothing  remarkable 
after  these  words.  He  departed  on  the  21st,  and  was  buried  in  the  vault  of  his 
church  the  31st  of  December  1807,  having  left  the  following  injunction,  in  a  let- 
ter for  the  direction  of  his  executors. 

"  I  propose  writing  an  epitaph  for  myself,  if  it  may  be  put  up,  on  a  plain 
marble  tablet,  near  the  vestry  door,  to  the  following  purport : — 

•  John  Newton,  Clerk, 

Once  an  infidel  and  libertine, 

A  servant  of  slaves  in  Africa, 

Was  by  the  rich  mercy  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 

Jesus  Christ, 

Preserved,  restored,  pardoned. 

And  appointed  to  preach  the  faith  he 

Had  long  laboured  to  destroy, 

Near  16  years  at  Olney  in  Bucks ; 

And  —  years  in  this  church. 

On  Feb.   I,   1750,  he  married 

Mary, 

Daughter  of  the  late  George  Catlett, 

Of  Chatham,  Kent. 

He  resigned  her  to  the  Lord  who  gave  her, 

On  the  15th  of  December,  1790. 

"  And  I  earnestly  desire,  that  no  other  monument,  and  no  inscription  but  to 
this  purport,  may  be  attempted  for  me." 

The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  exordium  of  Mr.  Newton's  will,  dated  June 
13,  1803  :— 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  amen.  I,  John  Newton,  of  Coleman  street  Buildings, 
in  the  parish  of  St.  Stephen,  Coleman  Street,  in  the  city  of  London,  Clerk,  being 
through  mercy  in  good  health  and  of  sound  and  disposing  mind,  memory,  and  un- 
derstanding, although  in  the  seventy-eighth  year  of  my  age,  do,  for  the  settling 
of  my  temporal  concerns,  and  for  the  disposal  of  all  the  worldly  estate  which  it 
hath  pleased  the  Lord  in  his  good  providence  to  give  me,  make  this  my  last  Will 
and  Testament  as  follows.  I  commit  my  soul  to  my  gracious  God  and  Saviour 
who  mercifully  spared  and  preserved  me,  when  I  was  an  apostate,  a  blasphemer 


I 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NKWTOTf.  66 

and  an  infidol,  and  doUvtrcd  mc  from  that  state  of  misery  on  the  coast  of  Africa 
into  which  inv  ohstiiuili'  wickfihu'ss  had  phm^^cd  nur ;  and  who  has  bcea 
pleased  to  achnit  int'  (though  njost  unworthy,)  to  prcacli  his  (glorious  f;osp(d.  I 
rt'ly  witli  huinhlc  conruloncc  upon  tlic  atoiu'inent  and  mediation  of  the  i.ord  Jesus 
Christ,  (ioil  and  Man,  whieli  1  have  often  proposed  to  otiiers  as  tlie  only  founda- 
tion whereon  a  sinner  ean  buihl  his  liope  ;  trusting  that  h<^  will  ^iiard  and  f^uide 
me  through  the  uneertain  remainder  of  my  life,  and  that  he  will  then  admit  mo 
into  his  presence  in  his  heavenly  kinfrdom.  1  would  have  my  body  deposited 
in  the  vault  under  the  parish  church  of  St.  Mary  VVoolnoth,  close  to  the  cofiins 
of  my  late  dear  wife  and  my  dear  niece  Elizabeth  Cunningham  ;  and  it  is  my 
desire,  that  my  funeral  may  be  performed  with  as  little  expense  as  possible,  con- 
sistent with  decency."    ■ 


REVIEW 


OF 


MR.  NEWTON'S  CHARACTER. 


There  seems  to  be  little  need  of  giving  a  general  character  of  Mr.  N.  after 
the  particulars  which  appear  in  the  foregoing  Memoirs.  He  unquestionably  was 
the  child  of  a  peculiar  providence,  in  every  step  of  his  progress ;  and  his  deep 
sense  of  the  extraordinary  dispensation  through  which  he  had  passed,  was  the 
prominent  topic  in  his  conversation.  Those  who  personally  knew  the  man,  could 
have  no  doubt  of  the  probity  with  which  his  Narrative  (singular  as  it  may  ap- 
pear) was  written.  They,  however,  who  could  not  view  the  subject  of  these  Me- 
moirs so  nearly  as  his  particular  friends  did,  may  wish  to  learn  something  farther 
of  his  character  with  respect  to  his  literary  attainments — his  ministry — 
his  FAMILY  habits — his  writings — and  his  familiar  conversation. 

Of  his  LITERATURE,  we  Icam  from  his  Narrative  what  he  attained  in  the 
learned  languages,  and  that  by  almost  incredible  efforts.  Few  men  have  un- 
dertaken such  difficulties,  under  such  disadvantages.  It,  therefore,  seems  more 
extraordinary  that  he  should  have  attained  so  much,  than  that  he  should  not 
have  acquired  more.  Nor  did  he  quit  his  pursuits  of  this  kind,  but  in  order  to 
gain  that  knowledge  which  he  deemed  much  more  important.  Whatever  he 
conceived  had  a  tendency  to  qualify  him  as  "  a  scribe  well  instructed  in  the 
kingdom  of  God,  bringing  out  of  his  treasury  things  new  and  old" — I  say,  in 
pursuit  of  this  point,  he  might  have  adopted  the  apostle's  expression,  "  One  thing 
I  do."  By  a  principle  so  simply  and  firmly  directed,  he  furnished  his  mind 
with  much  information :  he  had  consulted  the  best  old  divines  ;  had  read  the 
moderns  of  reputation  with  avidity  ;  and  was  continually  watching  whatever 
might  serve  for  analogies  or  illustrations,  in  the  service  of  religion.  "  A  minis- 
ter," he  used  to  say,  "  wherever  he  is,  should  be  always  in  his  study.  He  should 
look  at  every  man,  and  at  every  thing,  as  capable  of  affording  him  some  instruc- 
tion." His  mind,  therefore,  was  ever  intent  on  his  calling — ever  extracting  some- 
thing, even  from  the  basest  materials,  which  he  could  turn  into  gold. 

In  consequence  of  this  incessant  attention  to  his  object,  while  many,  whose 
early  advantages  greatly  exceeded  his,  were  found  excelling  Mr.  N.  in  the  know- 
ledge and  investigation  of  some  curious  abstract,  but  very  unimportant  points  ; 
he  was  found  vastly  excelling  them  in  points  of  infinitely  higher  importance  to 
man.  In  the  knowledge  of  God,  of  his  word,  and  of  the  human  heart,  in  its 
wants  and  resources,  Newton  would  have  stood  among  mere  scholars  as  his 
name-sake  the  philosopher  stood  in  science  among  ordinary  men.  I  might  say 
the  same  of  some  others  who  have  set  out  late  in  the  profession,  but  who,  with 
a  portion  of  Mr.  N.'s  piety  and  ardour,  have  greatly  outstripped  those  who  have 
had  every  early  advantage  and  encouragement.  Men  with  specious  titles  and 
high  connexions  have  received  the  rewards;  while  men,  like  Newton,  without 
them,  have  done  the  work. 

With  respect  to  his  ministry,  he  appeared,  perhaps,  to  least  advantage  in  the 
pulpit ;  as  he  did  not  generally  aim  at  accuracy  in  the  composition  of  his  ser- 
mons, nor  at  any  address  in  the  delivery  of  them.  His  utterance  was  far  from 
clear,  and  his  attitudes  ungraceful.     He  possessed,  however,  so  much  aflfection  foi. 

56 


I 


MEMOIRS    OF    THE    RRV.  JOHN    NKWTON.  T)! 

his  people,  nnd  zeal  for  IIumf  best  iiitcrrsts,  thut  llu'  dcft'ct  of  his  maimer  was 
of  little  coiisidtTution  with  Ills  coiistimt  hearers:  at  tlu^  same  time,  his  capacity, 
and  htthit  of  tMitt'riii;];  into  their  trials  and  experience,  ^ave  the  highest  iiitereHt 
to  his  ininistr)  ainon*;  them.  Besides  which,  he  frecpieiilly  int»*rspersed  the 
most  brilliant  allusit)iis,  and  brought  forward  such  haj)|)y  illustration  of  his  sub- 
ject, and  those  with  so  much  unction  on  his  own  heart,  as  melted  and  enlarged 
theirs.  The  parent-like  tenderness  and  aflection  which  accompanied  his  instrue- 
tion,  made  them  prefer  him  to  preachers,  who,  on  other  accounts,  were  much 
more  generally  popular.  It  oupjht  also  to  be  noted,  that  amidst  the  extravagant 
notions  and  unscriptural  positions,  which  have  sometimes  disgraced  the  religious 
world,  Mr.  N.  never  departed,  in  any  instance,  from  soundly  and  seriously  pro- 
mulgatin45  the  "  Aiith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,"  of  which  his  writings  will 
remain  the  best  evidence.  His  doctrine  was  strictly  that  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, urged  on  the  consciences  of  men  in  the  most  practical  and  experimental 
manner.  "  I  hope,"  said  he  one  day  to  me,  smiling,  "  I  hope  I  am  upon  the 
"whole  a  scriptural  preacher  :  for  I  find  I  am  considered  as  an  Arminian  among 
the  high  Calvinists,  and  as  a  Calvinist  among  the  strenuous  Arminians." 

I  never  observed  any  thing  like  bigotry  in  his  ministerial  character,  though  he 
seemed  at  all  times  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  order,  and  its  good  effects  in  the 
ministry.  He  had  formerly  been  intimately  connected  with  some  highly  re- 
spectable ministers  among  the  dissenters,  and  retained  a  cordial  regard  for  many 
to  the  last.  He  considered  the  strong  prejudices  which  attach  to  both  Church- 
men and  Dissenters,  as  arising  more  from  education  than  from  principle.  But 
being  himself  both  a  clergyman  and  an  incumbent  in  the  Church  of  England,  he 
wished  to  be  consistent.  In  public,  therefore,  he  felt  he  could  not  act  with  some 
ministers,  whom  he  thought  truly  good  men,  and  to  whom  he  cordially  wished 
success  in  their  endeavours;  and  he  patiently  met  the  consequence.  They  called 
him  a  bigot,  and  he  in  return  prayed  for  them  that  they  might  not  be  really  such. 

He  had  formerly  taken  much  pains  in  composing  his  sermons,  as  I  could 
perceive  in  one  MS.  which  I  looked  through  ;  and  even  latterly,  I  have  known 
him,  whenever  he  felt  it  necessary,  produce  admirable  plans  for  the  pulpit.  I 
own  I  thought  his  judgment  deficient  in  not  deeming  such  preparation  necessary 
at  all  times.  I  have  sat  in  pain  when  he  has  spoken  unguardedly  in  this  way 
before  young  ministers :  men,  who,  with  but  comparatively  slight  degrees  of  his 
information  and  experience,  would  draw  encouragement  to  ascend  the  pulpit  w  ith 
but  little  previous  study  of  their  subject.  A  minister  is  not  to  be  blamed,  who 
cannot  rise  to  qualifications  which  some  of  his  brethren  have  attained ;  but  he  is 
certainly  bound  to  improve  his  own  talent  to  the  utmost  of  his  power:  he  is  not  to 
cover  his  sloth,  his  love  of  company,  or  his  disposition  to  attend  a  wealthy  patron, 
with  the  pretence  of  depending  entirely  on  divine  influence.  Timothy  had  at 
least  as  good  ground  for  expecting  such  influence  as  any  of  his  successors  in  the 
ministry  ;  and  yet  the  apostle  admonishes  him  to  "give  attendance  to  reading, 
to  exhortation,  and  to  doctrine — not  to  neglect  the  gift  that  was  in  him — to  me- 
ditate upon  these  things — to  give  himself  wholly  to  them,  that  his  profiting 
might  appear  to  all." 

Mr.  N.  regularly  preached  on  the  Sunday  morning  and  evening  at  St.  Mary 
Woolnoth,  and  also  on  the  Wednesday  morning.  After  he  was  turned  of  seven- 
ty, he  often  undertook  to  assist  other  clergymen ;  sometimes  even  to  the  preach- 
ing six  sermons  in  the  space  of  a  week.  What  was  more  extraordinary,  he  con- 
tinued his  usual  course  of  preaching  at  his  own  church  after  he  was  fourscore  years 
old,  and  that  when  he  could  no  longer  see  to  read  his  text !  His  memory  and 
voice  sometimes  failed  him  ;  but  it  was  remarked,  that,  at  this  great  age,  he  was- 
nowhere  more  collected  or  lively  than  in  the  pulpit.  He  was  punctual  as  to  time 
with  his  congregation;  and  preached  every  first  Sunday  evening  in  the  month  on 
relative  duties.  Mr.  Alderman  Lea  regularly  sent  his  carriage  to  convey  him  to 
the  church,  and  Mr.  Bates  sent  his  servant  to  attend  him  in  the  pulpit;  which 
friendly  assistance  was  continued  till  Mr.  N.  could  appear  no  longer  in  public^ 
H 


58  MEMOIRS    OF   THE   REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

His  ministerial  visits  were  exemplary.  I  do  not  recollect  one,  tliongh  favourrd 
with  many,  in  which  his  general  information  and  lively  genius  did  not  commu- 
nicate instruction,  and  his  affectionate  and  condescending  sympathy  did  not 
leave  comfort. 

Truth  demands  it  should  be  said,  that  he  did  not  always  administer  consolation 
nor  give  an  account  of  characters,  with  sufficient  discrimination.  His  talent  did 
not  lie  in  "  discerning  of  spirits."  I  never  saw  him  so  much  moved  as  when 
any  friend  endeavoured  to  correct  his  errors  in  this  respect.  His  credulity  seem- 
ed to  arise  from  the  consciousness  he  had  of  his  own  integrity,  and  from  that  sort 
of  parental  fondness  which  he  bore  to  all  his  friends,  real  or  pretended.  I  knew 
one,  since  dead,  whom  he  thus  described,  while  living — '■  He  is  certainly  an 
odd  man,  and  has  his  failings;  but  he  has  great  integrity,  and  I  hope  is  going  to 
heaven."  Whereas  almost  all  who  knew  him  thought  the  man  should  go  first 
into  the  pillory  ! 

In  his  FAMILY  Mr.  N.  might  be  admired  more  safely  than  imitated.  His  ex- 
cessive attachment  to  Mrs.  N.  is  so  fully  displayed  in  his  Narrative,  and  con- 
firmed in  the  two  volumes  he  thought  proper  to  publish,  entitled,  "  Letters  to  a 
Wife,"  that  the  reader  will  need  no  information  on  this  subject.  Some  of  his 
friends  wished  this  violent  attachment  had  been  cast  more  into  the  shade,  as  tend- 
ing to  furnish  a  spur,  where  human  nature  generally  needs  a  curb.  He  used, 
indeed,  to  speak  of  such  attachments,  in  the  abstract,  as  idolatry ;  though  his 
own  was  providentially  ordered  to  be  the  main  hinge  on  which  his  preservation 
and  deliverance  turned,  while  in  his  worst  state.  Good  men,  however,  cannot 
be  too  cautious  how  they  give  sanction,  by  their  expressions  or  example,  to  a 
passion,  which,  when  not  under  sober  regulation,  has  overwhelmed  not  only 
families,  but  states,  with  disgrace  and  ruin. 

With  his  unusual  degree  of  benevolence  and  affection,  it  was  not  extraordinary 
that  the  spiritual  interests  of  his  servants  were  brought  forward,  and  examined 
severally  every  Sunday  afternoon  ;  and  that,  being  treated  like  children,  they 
should  grow  old  in  his  service.  In  short,  Mr.  N.  could  live  no  longer  than  he 
could  love  ;  it  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  if  his  nieces  had  more  of  his  heart  than 
is  generally  afforded  to  their  own  children  by  the  fondest  parents.  It  has  already 
been  mentioned,  that  his  house  was  an  asylum  for  the  perplexed  and  afflicted. 
Young  ministers  were  peculiarly  the  objects  of  his  attention:  he  instructed  them, 
he  encouraged  them,  he  warned  them ;  and  might  truly  be  said  to  be  a  father  in 
Christ,  "spending  and  being  spent"  for  the  interest  of  his  church.  In  order 
thus  to  execute  the  various  avocations  of  the  day,  he  used  to  rise  early ;  he  sel- 
dom was  found  abroad  in  the  evening,  and  was  exact  in  his  appointments. 

Of  his  WRITINGS,  I  think  little  need  be  said  here  ;  they  are  in-  wide  circulation, 
and  best  speak  for  themselves.  What  I  shall  observe  upon  them,  therefore,  will 
be  general  and  cursory. 

The  Sermons  Mr.  N.  published  at  Liverpool,  after  being  refused  on  his  first 
application  for  Orders,  were  intended  to  show  what  he  would  have  preached, 
had  he  been  admitted  ;  they  are  highly  creditable  to  his  understanding  and  to 
his  heart.  The  facility  with  which  he  attained  so  much  of  the  learned  languages 
seems  partly  accounted  for,  from  his  being  able  to  acquire,  so  early,  a  neat  and' 
natural  style  in  his  own  language,  and  that  under  such  evident  disadvantages. 
His  Review  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  so  far  as  it  proceeded,  has  been  much  eS' 
teemed  ;  and,  if  it  had  done  no  more  than  excite  the  Rev.  J.  Milner  (as  that 
most  valuable  and  instructive  author  informs  usit  did)  to  pursue  Mr.  N.'s  idea 
more  largely,  it  was  sufficient  success.  Before  this,  the  world  seems  to  have  lost 
sight  of  a  history  of  real  Christianity,  and  to  have  been  content  with  what,  for 
the  most  part,  was  but  an  account  of  the  ambition  and  politics  of  secular  men, 
assuming  the  Christian  name. 

It  must  be  evident  to  any  one,  who  observes  the  spirit  of  all  his  sermons, 
hymns,  tracts,  «&c.  that  nothing  is  aimed  at  which  should  be  met  by  critical  in- 
vestigation.    In  the  preface  to  his  hymns,  he  remarks,  "Though  I  would  not 


MEMOIKfl    OF    THE    RKV.    JOHN    NEWTON.  09 

oflVnd  rcjidcrs  of  tiislf  by  ii  wilful  roarsiMU'ss  and  iu'^li;:;cnre,  I  do  n  .  wijto  pro- 
fessedly (ov  tluMH.  I  havv'  simply  declared  my  own  views  and  fculiii;;.-i,  as  I 
niif;ht  havt'  dour  if  I  had  composod  hymns  in  some  of  the  nowiy  discovered 
islands  in  the  Sonth  sea,  where  no  person  had  any  knowledj^e  of  the  name  of 
Jesns  but  myself." 

To  dwell,  therefore,  with  a  critical  eye  on  this  part  of  his  public  character, 
would  be  absurd  and  impertinent,  and  to  erect  a  tribunal  to  which  he  seems  not 
amenable.  He  appears  to  have  paid  no  rejjard  to  a  nice  ear,  or  an  accurate  re- 
viewer ;  but,  preferriufi;  a  style  at  once  neat  and  perspicuous,  to  have  laid  out 
himself  entirely  for  the  service  of  the  church  of  God,  and  more  especially  for  the 
tried  and  experienced  part  of  its  members. 

His  chief  excellence  seemed  to  lie  in  the  easy  and  natural  style  of  his  episto 
lary  correspondence.  His  letters  will  be  read  while  real  religion  exists  ;  and  they 
are  the  best  draupjht  of  his  own  mind. 

He  had  so  laro;ely  communicated  to  his  friends  in  tliis  way,  that  I  have  heard 
him  say,  "  he  thought,  if  his  letters  were  collected,  they  would  make  several 
folios."  He  selected  many  of  these  for  publication,  and  expressed  a  hope,  that 
no  other  person  would  take  that  liberty  with  the  rest,  which  were  so  widely 
spread  abroad.  In  this,  however,  he  was  disappointed  and  grieved,  as  he  once 
remarked  to  me  ;  and  for  which  reason  I  do  not  annex  any  letters  that  I  received 
from  him.  He  esteemed  that  collection  published  under  the  title  of  Cardipho- 
nia"  as  the  most  useful  of  his  writings,  and  mentioned  various  instances  of  the 
benefits  which  he  heard  they  had  conveyed  to  many. 

His  Apologia,  or  defence  of  conformity,  was  written  on  occasion  of  some  reflec- 
tions (perhaps  only  jocular)  cast  on  him  at  that  time.  His  Letters  to  a  Wife, 
written  during  his  three  voyages  to  Africa,  and  published  1793,  have  been  re- 
ceived with  less  satisfaction  than  most  of  his  other  \vritings.  While,  however, 
his  advanced  age  and  inordinate  fondness  may  be  pleaded  for  this  publication, 
care  should  be  taken  lest  men  fall  into  a  contrary  extreme ;  and  suppose  that 
temper  to  be  their  wisdom,  which  leads  them  to  avoid  another,  which  they  consider 
as  his  weakness.  But  his  Messiah,  before  mentioned,  his  Letters  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Vanlier,  chaplain  at  the  Cape,  his  Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  John  Cowper 
(brother  to  the  poet,)  and  those  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Grimshaw  of  Yorkshire,  together 
"with  his  single  sermons  and  tracts,  have  been  well  received,  and  will  remain  a 
public  benefit. 

I  recollect  reading  a  MS.  which  Mr.  N.  lent  me,  containing  a  correspondence 
that  had  passed  between  himself  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dixon,  principal  of  St.  Edmund 
Hall,  Oxford ;  and  another  MS.  of  a  correspondence  between  him  and  the  late 
Rev.  Martin  Madan.  They  would  have  been  very  interesting  to  the  public,  par- 
ticularly the  latter,  and  were  striking  evidences  of  Mr.  N.'s  humility,  piety,  and 
faithfulness ;  but  reasons  of  delicacy  led  him  to  commit  the  whole  to  the  flames. 

To  speak  of  his  writings  in  the  mass,  they  certainly  possess  what  many  have 
aimed  at,  but  very  few  attained,  namely  originality.  They  are  the  language  of 
the  heart;  they  show  a  deep  experience  of  its  religious  feelings,  a  continual  anxiety 
to  sympathizle  with  man  in  his  wants,  and  to  direct  him  to  his  only  resources. 

His  CONVERSATION,  and  familiar  habits  with  his  friends,  were  more  peculiar, 
amusing,  and  instructive,  than  any  I  ever  witnessed.  It  is  difficult  to  convey 
a  clear  idea  of  them  by  description.  I  venture,  therefore,  to  add  a  few  pages  of 
what  I  may  call  his  table-talk,  which  I  took  down  at  different  times,  both  in 
company  and  in  private,  from  his  lips.  Such  a  collection  of  printed  remarks 
will  not  have  so  much  point  as  when  spoken  in  connexion  with  the  occasion 
that  produced  them  :  they  must  appear  to  considerable  disadvantage  thus  detached, 
and  candid  allowance  should  be  made  by  the  reader  on  this  account.  They, 
however,  who  had  the  privilege  of  Mr.  N.'s  conversation  when  living,  cannot 
but  recognize  the  speaker  in  most  of  them,  and  derive  both  profit  and  pleasure 
from  these  remains  of  their  late  valuable  friend ;  and  such  as  had  not,  will  (if  I 
do  not  mistake)  think  them  the  most  valuable  part  of  this  book 


REMARKS 


MADE    BY    MR.  NEWTOX 

IN  FAMILIAR  CONVERSATION. 


While  the  mariner  uses  the  loadstone,  the  philosopher  may  attempt  to  inves- 
tigate the  cause ;  but  after  all,  in  steering  through  the  ocean,  he  can  make  no 
oth,er  use  of  it  than  the  mariner. 

If  an  angel  were  sent  to  find  the  most  perfect  man,  he  would  probably  not  find 
him  composing  a  body  of  divinity,  but  perhaps  a  cripple  in  a  poor-house,  whom 
the  parish  wish  dead,  and  humbled  before  God  with  far  lower  thoughts  of  him- 
self than  others  think  of  him. 

When  a  Christian  goes  into  the  world,  because  he  sees  it  is  his  call,  yet,  while 
he  feels  it  also  his  cross,  it  will  not  hurt  him. 

Satan  will  seldom  come  to  a  Christian  with  a  gross  temptation  :  a  green  log- 
and  a  candle  may  be  safely  left  together ;  but  bring  a  few  shavings,  then  some 
small  sticks,  and  then  larger,  and  you  may  soon  bring  the  green  log  to  ashes. 

If  two  angels  came  down  from  heaven  to  execute  a  divine  command,  and  one 
was  appointed  to  conduct  an  empire,  and  the  other  to  sweep  a  street  in  it,  they 
would  feel  no  inclination  to  change  employments. 

The  post  of  honour  in  an  army  is  not  with  the  baggage,  nor  with  the  women. 

What  some  call  providential  openings  are  often  powerful  temptations ;  the 
heart,  in  wandering,  cries,  Here  is  a  way  opened  before  me  ;  but,  perhaps,  not 
to  be  trodden,  but  rejected. 

Young  people  marry  as  others  study  navigation,  by  the  fire-side.  If  they 
marry  unsuitably,  they  can  scarcely  bring  things  to  rule ;  but,  like  sailors,  they 
must  sail  as  near  the  wind  as  they  can.  I  feel  myself  like  a  traveller  with  his 
wife  in  his  chaise  and  one ;  if  the  ground  is  smooth,  and  she  keep  the  right 
pace,  and  is  willing  to  deliver  the  reins  when  I  ask  for  them,  I  am  always  willing 
to  let  her  drive. 

I  should  have  thought  mowers  very  idle  people ;  but  they  work  while  they 
•whet  their  scythes.  Now  devotedness  to  God,  whether  it  mows  or  whets  the 
scythe,  still  goes  on  with  the  work. 

A  Christian  should  never  plead  spirituality  for  being  a  sloven  ;  if  he  be  but  a 
shoe-cleaner,  he  should  be  the  best  in  the  parish. 

In  chosing  my  text,  I  feel  myself  like  a  servant  to  whom  a  key  has  been  given^ 
which  opens  a  particular  drawer,  but  who  has  not  the  bunch  of  keys,  which 
open  all  the  drawers.  I  therefore  expect  to  be  helped  to  only  one  text  at  a 
time. 

My  course  of  study,  like  that  of  a  surgeon,  has  principally  consisted  in  walking 
the  hospital. 

In  divinity,  as  well  as  in  other  professions,  there  are  the  little  artists.     A  man 
may  be  able  to  execute  the  buttons  of  a  statue  very  neatly,  but  I  could  not  caL 
him  an  able  artist.     There  is  an  air,  there  is  a  taste,  to  which  his  narrow  capa 
city  cannot  reach.     Now  in  the  church,  there  are  your  dexterous  button-makers. 

My  principal  method  for  defeating  heresy,  is  by  establishing  truth.  One 
proposes  to  fill  a  bushel  with  tares  ;  now  if  I  can  fill  it  first  with  wheat,  I  shall 
defy  his  attempts. 

When  some  people  talk  of  religion,  they  mean  they  have  heard  so  many  scr- 
(H) 


HEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON.  61 

mons,  and  performed  so  many  devotions,  and  thns  mistake  tlie  means  for  the 
end.  lUit  true  ri'lit;ion  is  an  habitual  it'coilrction  of  (iod  and  intention  to  si-rve 
him,  and  thus  turns  every  thint;  into  ^ohl.  We  ar(!  apt  to  supj)()se  that  wc 
need  soniethint;  splendid  to  evinee  our  devotion,  but  true  devotion  e(pials  things 
— washinj;  j)lates,  and  eleanin^  shoes,  is  a  l»i};h  olhc c,  if  performed  in  a  riglit 
spirit.  If  three  ansrels  were  sent  to  earth,  tliey  would  feel  perfect  indifference 
■who  should  perform  the  part  of  prime-minister,  parish-minister,  or  watciiman. 

When  a  ship  «;oes  to  sea,  among  the  vast  variety  of  its  articles  and  circumstances, 
there  is  but  one  object  regarded,  namely,  doing  the  businessof  the  voyage:  every 
bucket  is  employed  with  respect  to  that. 

Many  have  puzzled  themselves  about  the  origin  of  evil ;  I  observe  there  is 
evil,  and  that  there  is  a  way  to  escape  it,  and  with  this  I  begin  and  end. 

Consecrated  things  under  the  law  were  first  sprinkled  with  blood,  and  then 
anointed  with  oil,  and  thenceforward  were  no  more  common.  Thus  under  the 
gospel,  every  Christian  has  been  a  common  vessel  for  profane  purposes  ;  but, 
when  sprinkled  and  anointed,  he  becomes  separated  and  consecrated  to  God. 

I  w^ould  not  give  a  straw  for  that  assurance,  which  sin  will  not  damp.  If 
David  had  come  from  his  adultery,  and  had  talked  of  his  assurance  at  that  time, 
I  should  have  despised  his  speech. 

A  spirit  of  adoption  is  the  spirit  of  a  child  ;  he  may  disoblige  his  father,  yet 
he  is  not  afraid  of  being  turned  out  of  doors.  The  union  is  not  dissolved,  though 
the  communion  is.  He  is  not  well  with  his  father,  therefore  must  be  unhappy, 
as  their  interests  are  inseparable. 

W^e  often  seek  to  apply  cordials  when  the  patient  is  not  prepared  for  them, 
and  it  is  the  patient's  advantage,  that  he  cannot  take  a  medicine  when  prema- 
turely offered.  When  a  man  comes  to  me,  and  says,  "  I  am  quite  happy,"  I  am 
not  sorry  to  find  him  come  again  with  some  fears.  I  never  saw  a  work  stand 
well  without  a  check.  "  I  only  want,"  says  one,  "  to  be  sure  of  being  safe,  and 
then  I  will  go  on."     No  ;  perhaps  then  you  will  go  off. 

For  an  old  Christian  to  say  to  a  young  one,  "  Stand  in  my  evidence,"  is 
like  a  man,  who  has  with  difficulty  climbed  by  a  ladder  or  scaffolding  to  the  top 
of  the  house,  and  cries  to  one  at  the  bottom,  "  This  is  the  place  for  a  prospect — 
come  up  at  a  step." 

A  Christian,  like  a  miser,  will  ask  the  price  of  his  pleasures :  the  miser  has  no 
objection  to  go  to  Brighton,  but  always  asks  what  it  will  cost  ?  The  miser,  indeed, 
has  this  advantage,  that  he  is  always  in  the  same  frame. 

A  Christian  in  the  world,  is  like  a  man  who  has  had  a  long  intimacy  with  one 
whom  at  length  he  finds  out  was  the  murderer  of  a  kind  father ;  the  intimacy, 
after  this,  will  surely  be  broken. 

"  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  A  man 
may  live  in  a  deep  mine  in  Hungary,  never  having  seen  the  light  of  the  sun ; 
he  may  have  received  accounts  of  prospects,  and  by  the  help  of  a  candle,  may 
have  examined  a  few  engravings  of  them ;  but  let  him  be  brought  out  of  the 
mine,  and  set  on  the  mountain,  what  a  difference  appears  ! 

In  our  fallen  state,  we  are  a  sort  of  solecism  in  the  universe  :  other  animals  are 
faithful  to  their  instincts;  lambs  do  not  wish  to  swim,  nor  fish  to  feed  in  a  mea- 
dow. If  the  sun  were  a  rational  creature  he  would  delight  to  shine,  otherv.ise 
he  ought  to  be  extinguished. 

Candour  will  always  allow  much  for  inexperience.  I  have  been  thirty  years 
forming  niy  own  views,  and  in  the  course  of  this  time  some  of  my  hills  have 
heen  sinking,  and  some  of  my  valleys  have  risen  ;  but  how  unreasonable  would 
it  be  to  expect  all  this  should  take  place  in  another  person,  and  that  in  the  course 
of  a  year  or  two. 

Candour  forbids  us  to  estimate  a  character  from  its  accidental  blots.  Yet  it  is 
thus  that  David,  and  others  have  been  treated. 

Apolios  met  with  two  candid  people  in  tlie  church  :  they  neither  ran  away 
because  he  was  legal,  nor  were  carried  away  because  he  was  eloquent 


L 


Ins  MEMOIRS    OF    THE   REV.   JOHN    NEWTON. 

There  is  the  analoj^y  of  faith  ;  it  is  a  master-key,  which  not  only  opens  par- 
ticular doors,  but  carries  you  through  the  whole  house ;  but  an  attachment  to  a 
ri^d  system  is  dangerous.  Luther  once  turned  out  the  epistle  of  St.  James,  be- 
cause it  disturbed  his  system.  Dr.  Owen  will  be  ashamed  of  his  wisdom  and 
clearness,  five  minutes  after  he  has  been  in  heaven.  I  shall  preach,  perhaps, 
very  usefully  upon  two  opposite  texts,  while  kept  apart;  but  if  I  attempt  nicely 
to  reconcile  them,  it  is  ten  to  one  if  I  don't  begin  to  bungle. 

I  can  conceive  a  living  man  without  an  arm  or  a  leg,  but  not  without  a  head 
or  a  heart :  so  there  are  some  truths  essential  to  vital  religion,  and  which  all 
awakened  souls  are  taught. 

Apostacy,  in  all  its  branches,  takes  its  rise  from  atheism.  "  I  have  set  the 
Lord  always  before  me,"  &lc.  The  doctrine  of  omnipresence  is  universally  al- 
lowed. 

We  are  surprised  at  the  fall  of  a  famous  professor  ;  but,  in  the  sight  of  God, 
the  man  was  gone  before  ;  it  is  only  we  that  have  now  first  discovered  it.  "  He 
that  despiseth  small  things,  shall  fall  by  little  and  little." 

There  are  critical  times  of  danger.  After  great  services,  honours,  and  conso- 
lations, we  should  stand  upon  our  guard.  Noah,  Lot,  David,  and  Solomon,  fell 
in  these  circumstances.  Satan  is  a  footpad  :  a  footpad  will  not  attack  a  man  in 
going  to  the  bank,  but  in  returning  with  his  pocket  full  of  money. 

A  Christian  is  like  a  young  nobleman,  who,  on  going  to  receive  his  estate,  is 
at  first  enchanted  by  its  prospects ;  this  in  a  course  of  time  may  wear  off,  but  a 
sense  of  the  value  of  the  estate  grows  daily. 

When  we  first  enter  into  the  divine  life,  we  propose  to  grow  rich ;  God's  plan 
is  to  make  us  feel  poor. 

Good  men  have  need  to  take  heed  of  building  upon  groundless  impressions. 
Mr.  Whitfield  had  a  son,  which  he  imagined  was  born  to  be  a  very  extraordi- 
nary man  :  but  the  son  soon  died,  and  the  fiither  was  cured  of  his  mistake. 

I  remember,  in  going  to  undertake  the  care  of  a  congregation,  I  was  reading, 
as  I  walked  in  a  green  lane,  "  Fear  not,  Paul,  I  have  much  people  in  this  city ;" 
but  I  soon  afterwards  was  disappointed  in  finding  that  Paul  was  not  John,  and 
Corinth  was  not  Warwick. 

Christ  has  taken  our  nature  into  heaven  to  represent  us  ;  and  has  left  us  on 
earth,  with  his  nature,  to  represent  him. 

Worldly  men  will  be  true  to  their  principles  ;  and  if  we  were  as  true  to  ours, 
the  visits  between  the  two  parties  would  be  short  and  seldom. 

A  Christian  in  the  world  is  like  a  man  transacting  his  affairs  in  the  rain.  He 
will  not  suddenly  leave  his  client,  because  it  rains ;  but  the  moment  the  business 
is  done,  he  is  off:  as  it  is  said  in  the  Acts,  "  Being  let  go,  they  went  to  their 
own  company." 

When  a  man  is  joined  to  Christ,  Christ  says  to  him,  as  it  was  once  said  to  the 
Levite,  "  Let  all  thy  wants  lie  upon  me,  only  abide  not  in  the  street." 

God's  word  is  certainly  a  restraint ;  but  it  is  such  a  restraint  as  the  irons  which 
prevent  children  from  getting  into  the  fire. 

The  scriptures  are  so  full,  that  every  case  may  be  found  in  them.  A  rake 
went  into  a  church,  and  tried  to  decoy  a  girl  by  saying,  "  Why  do  you  attend  to 
such  stuff  as  these  scriptures?"  "  Because,"  said  she,  "  they  tell  me,  that  in  the 
last  days  there  shall  come  such  scoffers  as  you." 

God  deals  with  us  as  we  do  with  our  children :  he  first  speaks,  then  gives  a 
gentle  stroke,  at  last  a  blow. 

The  religion  of  a  sinner  stands  on  two  pilb.rs  :  namely,  what  Christ  did  for  us 
in  his  flesh,  and  what  he  performs  in  us  by  his  Spirit.  Most  errors  arise  from 
an  attempt  to  separate  these  two. 

We  blame  an  Arminian  for  his  want  of  submission  to  divine  sovereignty;  yet 
let  a  shower  of  rain  fall  on  a  suit  of  new  clothes,  and  we  cannot  submit  ourselves. 

Man  is  not  taught  any  thing  to  purpose  till  God  becomes  his  teacher,  and  then 
the  glare  of  the  world  is  put  out,  and  the  value  of  the  soul  rises  in  full  view. 


MKMOIKS  OV  TIIK   REV.   JOICN    NIIVV  TON.  Ch\ 

A  miin's  pn'seiit  soiitimcnts  inny  not  hv  accurate,  but  wr  niuko  too  mucli  of  nvn- 
tiiiu-uts.  \Vt'  pass  u  lirld  with  a  few  blades,  we  call  it  a  field  of  wheat;  bul 
here  is  no  wlieat  ;  no,  not  in  jjerfeclion,  but  wheat  is  sown,  and  full  cars  nj;iy  be 
expected. 

The  word  temperance,  in  the  New  Testament,  sif^nifies  self-possession;  it  is 
a  disposition  suitable  to  one  wlio  has  a  race  to  run,  and  therefore  will  not  load 
his  pockets  with  lead. 

One  reason  why  \ve  must  not  attempt  to  pull  up  the  tares  which  grow  amonjr 
the  wheat  is,  that  we  have  not  skill  for  the  work  ;  like  a  weeder,  whom  Mrs. 
N.  employed  in  my  garden  at  Olney,  who  for  weeds  pulled  up  some  of  her 
favourite  flowers. 

Contrivers  of  systems  on  earth  are  like  contrivers  of  systems  in  the  lieavens; 
where  the  sun  and  moon  keep  the  same  course,  in  spite  of  the  philosophers. 

I  endeavour  to  walk  through  the  world  as  a  physician  goes  through  Bedlam  : 
the  patients  make  a  noise,  pester  him  with  impertinence,  and  hinder  him  in  his 
business  ;  but  he  does  the  best  he  can,  and  so  gets  through. 

A  man  always  in  society,  is  one  always  on  the  spend  :  on  the  other  hand,  a 
mere  solitary  is  at  his  best  but  a  candle  in  an  empty  room. 

If  we  were  upon  the  watch  for  improvement,  the  common  news  of  the  day 
Mould  furnish  it:  the  falling  of  the  tower  of  Siloam,  and  the  slaughter  of  the 
Galileans,  were  the  news  of  the  day,  which  our  Lord  improved. 

The  generality  make  out  their  righteousness  by  comparing  themselves  with 
some  others  whom  they  think  worse  :  thus  a  woman  of  the  town,  who  was 
rotting  in  the  Lock  Hospital,  was  offended  at  a  minister  speaking  to  her  as  a 
sinner,  because  she  had  never  picked  a  pocket. 

Take  away  a  toy  from  a  child,  and  give  him  another,  and  he  is  satisfied  ;  but 
if  he  be  hungry,  no  toy  will  do.  Thus  as  new  born  babes,  true  believers  desire 
the  sincere  milk  of  the  word  ;  and  the  desire  of  grace,  in  this  way,  is  grace. 

One  said,  that  the  great  saints  in  the  calendar  were  many  of  them  poor  sinners  ; 
Mr.  N.  replied  they  were  poor  saints  indeed,  if  they  did  not  feel  that  they  were 
great  sinners. 

A  wise  man  looks  upon  men  as  he  does  upon  horses ,  and  considers  their 
caparisons  of  title,  wealth,  and  place,  but  as  harness. 

The  force  of  what  we  deliver  from  the  pulpit  is  often  lost  by  a  starched,  and 
what  is  often  called  a  correct  style,  and  especially  by  adding  meretricious  orna- 
ments. I  called  upon  a  lady  who  had  been  robbed,  and  she  gave  me  a  striking 
account  of  the  fact ;  but  had  she  put  it  in  heroics,  I  should  neither  so  well  have 
understood  her,  nor  been  so  well  convinced  that  she  was  robbed. 

When  a  man  says  he  received  a  blessing  under  a  sermon,  I  begin  to  inquire 
who  this  man  is,  that  speaks  of  the  help  he  has  received.  The  Roman  people 
proved  the  effect  they  received  under  a  sermon  of  Antony  when  they  flew  to 
avenge  the  death  of  Caesar. 

The  Lord  has  reasons,  far  beyond  our  ken,  for  opening  a  wide  door,  while  he 
stops  the  mouth  of  a  useful  preacher.  John  Bunyan  would  not  have  done  half 
the  good  he  did,  if  he  had  remained  preaching  in  Bedford,  instead  of  being  shut 
up  in  Bedford  prison. 

If  I  could  go  to  France,  and  give  every  man  in  it  a  right  and  peaceable  mind 
by  my  labour,  I  should  have  a  statue ;  but  to  produce  such  an  effect  in  the 
conversion  of  one  soul  would  be  a  far  greater  achievement. 

Ministers  would  over-rate  their  labou/l,  if  they  did  not  think  it  worth  while 
to  be  born  and  spend  ten  thousand  years  in  labour  and  contempt,  to  recover  one 
soul. 

Don't  tell  me  of  your  feelings.  A  traveller  would  be  glad  of  fine  weather; 
but,  if  he  be  a  man  of  business,  he  will  go  on.  Bunyan  says,  You  must  not 
judge  of  a  man's  haste  by  his  horse  ;  for  when  the  horse  can  hardly  move,  you 
may  see  by  the  rider's  urging  him,  what  a  hurry  he  is  in. 

A  man  and  a  beast  may  stand  upon  the  same  mountain,  and  even  touch  one 


^  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

another;  yet  they  are  in  two  different  worlds :  the  beast  perceives  nothing  but 
the  grass  ;  but  the  man  contemplates  the  prospect,  and  thinks  of  a  thousand  remote 
things.  Thus  a  Christian  may  be  solitary  at  a  full  exchange  ;  he  can  converse 
with  the  people  there  upon  trade,  politics,  and  the  stocks;  but  they  cannot  talk 
"with  him  upon  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding. 

Love  and  fear  are  like  the  sun  and  moon,  seldom  seen  together. 

Two  men  go  into  a  wood  with  their  guns,  and  one  fires  as  often  as  the 
other  :  but  one  kills  a  great  quantity  of  game,  because  he  fires  with  shot.  Some, 
like  Zaccheus,  think  they  sit  very  snug  in  a  corner,  and  are  brought  down  much 
before  they  expect  it. 

I  dreamt  one  night  that  I  saw  Matthew  Henry  lay  open  at  this  text,  "  Let  your 
women  keep  silence  in  the  churches,"  and  thought  I  read  the  following  note  at 
bottom:  "  Note — We  see  the  reason  why  women  are  forbid  to  preach  the  gospel, 
for  they  would  persuade  without  argument,  and  reprove  without  giving  offence." 

It  is  a  mere  fallacy  to  talk  of  the  sins  of  a  short  life.  The  sinner  is  always  a 
sinner.  Put  a  pump  into  the  river,  you  may  throw  out  some  water,  but  the  river 
remains. 

Professors,  who  own  the  doctrines  of  free  grace,  often  act  inconsistently  with 
their  own  principles,  when  they  are  angry  at  the  defects  of  others.  A  company 
of  travellers  fall  into  a  pit,  one  of  them  gets  a  passenger  to  draw  him  out :  now 
he  should  not  be  angry  with  the  rest  for  falling  in,  nor  because  they  are  not  yet 
out,  as  he  is.  He  did  not  pull  himself  out ;  instead,  therefore,  of  reproaching  them, 
he  should  show  them  pity ;  he  should  avoid  at  any  rate  going  down  upon  their 
ground  again,  and  show  how  much  better  and  happier  he  is  upon  his  own.  We 
should  take  care  that  we  do  not  make  our  profession  of  religion  a  receipt  in  full 
for  all  other  obligations.  A  man,  truly  illuminated,  will  no  more  despise  others, 
than  Bartimeus,  after  his  own  eyes  were  opened,  would  take  a  stick,  and  beat 
every  blind  man  he  met. 

We  are  much  mistaken  in  supposing,  that  the  removal  of  a  particular  obstruc- 
tion would  satisfy  the  objector.  Suppose  I  am  in  bed,  and  want  to  know  whether 
it  be  light,  it  is  not  enough  if  I  draw  the  curtain ;  for  if  there  be  light,  I  must 
have  eyes  to  see  it. 

Too  deep  a  consideration  of  eternal  realities  might  unfit  a  man  for  his  present 
circumstances.  Walking  through  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital  or  Bedlam  must 
deeply  affect  a  feeling  mind,  but  in  reality  this  world  is  a  far  worse  scene ;  it 
has  but  two  wards :  in  the  one,  men  are  miserable ;  in  the  other  mad. 

Some  preachers  near  Olney  dwelt  on  the  doctrine  of  predestination ;  an  old 
woman  said — "  Ah  !  I  have  long  settled  that  point ;  for  if  God  had  not  chosen 
me  before  I  was  born,  I  am  sure  he  would  have  seen  nothing  in  me  to  have 
chosen  me  for  afterwards." 

Law  has  swept  away  Warburton's  cobweb,  with  a  single  brush.  Abel  pleased 
God,  but  Cain  killed  him  ;  therefore,  it  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  please  God,  if 
there  were  no  future  state. 

I  see  the  unprofitableness  of  controversy  in  the  case  of  Job  and  his  friends;  for 
if  God  had  not  interposed,  and  they  had  lived  to  this  day,  they  would  have  con- 
tinued the  dispute. 

It  is  pure  mercy  that  negatives  a  particular  request.     A  miser  would  pray  very 
earnestly  for  gold,  if  he  believed  prayer  would  gain  it;  whereas,  if  Christ  had  an 
favour  to  him,  he  would  take  his  gold  away.     A  child  walks  in  the  garden  i: 
spring  and  sees  cherries  ;  he  knows  tflfey  are  good  fruit,  and  therefore  asks  f( 
them.    "  No,  my  dear,"  says  the  father,  ='  they  are  not  ripe  :  stay  till  the  season.' 

If  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  infirmities,  I  can  sometimes  feel  the  profit  of  them.  I 
can  conceive  a  king  to  pardon  a  rebel,  and  take  him  into  his  family,  and  then  say, 
"I  appoint  you  for  a  season  to  wear  a  fetter.  At  a  certain  season  I  will  send  a 
messenger  to  knock  it  off.  In  the  mean  time  this  fetter  will  serve  to  remind 
you  of  your  state  ;  it  may  humble  you,  and  restrain  you  from  rambling." 

Some  Christians,  at  a  glance,  seem  of  a  superior  order,  and  are  not ;  they  want 


MLMOIRS    OK    TIIK    REV.    JOHN     NEWTON.  65 

«  iHTtain  quality.  At  a  lloiist's  foust  tlu'  other  day,  n  cfrtain  flower  wjls  detcr- 
mined  to  bear  tlu*  bt-U  ;  but  it  was  found  to  bv.  an  artilical  flovxr;  thrr*.-  is  a 
quality  oallrd  i^rowtli,  which  it  luid  not. 

Doctor  'I'aylor  of  Norwich  said  to  me,  "  Sir,  I  have  collated  every  word 
in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  seventeen  times;  and  it  is  very  strange,  if  the  doc- 
trine of  atonement  you  hold  should  not  have  been  found  by  me."  I  am  not 
surprised  at  this:  I  once  went  to  li};ht  my  candle  with  the  extinguisher  on  it. 
Now,  prejudices  from  education,  learning,  &,c.  often  form  an  extinguisher.  It 
is  not  enough  that  you  bring  the  candle,  you  must  remove  the  extinguisher. 

I  meiLsure  ministers  by  scpiare  measure.  I  have  no  idea  of  the  size  of  a  table,  if 
you  only  tell  me  how  long  it  is;  but  if  you  also  say  how  broad,  1  can  tell  its  di- 
mensions. So  when  you  tell  what  a  man  is  in  the  pulpit,  you  must  also  tell  me 
what  he  is  out  of  it,  or  I  shall  not  know  his  size 

If  Nebuchadnezzar's  image  was  of  solid  gold,  and  every  worshipper  was  to 
have  a  bit  of  it,  I  fear  our  nation,  as  well  as  his,  would  be  ready  to  lall  down  be- 
fore it. 

There  were  two  sorts  of  Calvinists  at  Olney,  and  they  always  reminded  me 
of  the  two  baskets  of  Jeremiah's  figs. 

A  man  should  be  born  to  high  things  not  to  lose  himself  in  them.  Slaters 
will  walk  on  the  ridge  of  a  house  with  ease,  which  would  turn  our  heads. 

Much  depends  on  the  way  we  come  into  trouble.  Paul  and  Jonah  were  both 
in  a  storm,  but  in  very  different  circumstances. 

I  have  read  of  many  wicked  Popes ;  but  the  worst  Pope  I  ever  met  with,  it 
Pope  Self. 

The  men  of  this  world  are  children.  Ofler  a  child  an  apple  and  a  bank-note 
he  will  doubtless  choose  the  apple. 

A  pious  gentlewoman  told  me  of  her  pottery  being  burnt.  "I  congratulate 
you,  madam,"  said  I,  "  in  possessing  something  you  cannot  lose." 

The  heir  of  a  great  estate,  while  a  child,  thinks  more  of  a  few  shillings  in 
his  pocket,  than  of  his  inheritance.  So  a  Christian  is  often  more  elated  by  some 
frame  of  heart,  than  by  his  title  to  glory. 

A  dutiful  child  is  ever  looking  forward  to  the  holidays,  when  he  shall  return 
to  his  father ;  but  he  does  not  think  of  running  from  school  before. 

The  gospel  is  a  proclamation  of  free  mercy  to  guilty  creatures — an  act  of  grace 
to  rebels.  Now,  though  a  rebel  should  throw  away  his  pistols,  and  determine 
to  go  into  the  woods,  and  make  his  mind  better  before  he  goes  to  court  and 
pleads  the  act ;  he  may,  indeed,  not  be  found  in  arms,  yet,  being  taken  in  his  re- 
lorming  scheme,  he  will  be  hanged. 

The  devil  told  a  lie  when  he  said,  "  All  these  things  are  mine,  and  to  whom- 
soever I  will,  I  give  them  :"  for  if  he  had  the  disposal  of  preferments,  since  he 
knows  the  effect  of  them,  you  and  I,  brother  C — ,  should  soon  be  dignitaries. 

Man  is  made  capable  of  three  births — by  nature  he  enters  the  present  world — 
by  grace  into  spiritual  light  and  life — by  death  into  glory. 

In  my  imagination,  I  sometimes  fancy  I  could  make  a  perfect  minister.     I 

take  the  eloquence  of ,  the  knowledge  of ,  the  zeal  of ,  and  the 

pastoral  meekness,  tenderness,  and  piety  of ;  then  putting  them  all  together 

into  one  man,  I  say  to  myself,  this  would  be  a  perfect  minister.  Now,  there  is 
One  who,  if  he  chose  it,  could  actually  do  this ;  but  he  never  did  :  he  has  seen 
fit  to  do  otherwise,  and  to  divide  these  gifts  to  every  man  severally  as  he  will. 

I  feel  like  a  man  who  has  no  money  in  his  pocket,  but  is  allowed  to  draw  for 
all  he  wants  upon  one  infinitely  rich  :  I  am,  therefore,  at  once  both  a  beggar  and 
a  rich  man. 

I  went  one  day  to  Mrs.  G 's  just  after  she  had  lost  all  her  fortune:   I 

could  not  be  surprised  to  find  her  in  tears;  but  she  said,  "I  suppose  you  think 
I  am  crying  for  my  loss:  but  that  is  not  the  case — I  am  now  weeping  to 
think  I  should  feel  so  much  uneasiness  on  the  account."  After  that  1  never 
heard  her  speak  again  upon  the  subject  as  long  as  she  lived. — Why,  now 


66  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JJHN    NEWTOX. 

this  is  just  as  it  should  be. — Suppose  a  man  was  f^oing  to  York  to  take 
possession  of  a  large  estate,  and  his  chaise  should  break  down  a  mile  before  he 
got  to  the  city,  which  obliged  him  to  walk  the  rest  of  the  way  ;  what  a  fool 
we  should  think  him  if  we  saw  him  wringing  his  hands,  and  blubbering  out 
all  the  remiining  mile,  **  My  chaise  is  broken  !   my  chaise  is  broken  !" 

I  have  many  books  that  I  cannot  sit  down  to  read  ;  they  are,  indeed,  good 
and  sound  ;  but,  like  halfpence,  there  goes  a  great  quantity  to  a  little  amount 
There  are  silver  books,  and  a  very  few  golden  books;  but  I  have  one  book 
"Worth  more  than  all,  called  the  Bible,  and  that  is  a  book  of  bank-notes. 

I  conclude  these  remarks,  not  because  my  memorandum-book  is  exhausted, 
but  lest  the  reader  should  think  I  forget  the  old  maxim,  ne  quid  nimis.  No  un- 
due liberty,  however,  has  been  taken  in  publishing  Mr.  N.'s  private  conversa- 
tion ;  since  all  the  above  remarks  were  submitted  to  him,  as  intended  for  this 
publication,  and  were  approved. 


GENERAL  OBSERVATIONS. 


The  difference  of  mental  improvement,  among  men,  seems  very  much  to  de- 
pend on  their  capacity  and  habit  of  gathering  instruction  from  the;  objects  which 
are  continually  presented  to  their  observation.  Two  men  behold  the  same  fact: 
one  of  them  is  in  the  habit  of  drawing  such  remarks  and  inferences  as  the 
fact  affords,  and  learns  something  from  every  thing  he  sees;  while  the  other 
gees  the  same  tact,  and  perhaps  with  a  momentary  admiration,  but  lets  it  pass 
without  making  so  much  as  one  profitable  rellection  on  the  occasion.  The  ex- 
cursions of  the  bee  and  the  butterily  present  an  exact  emblem  of  these  two  cha- 
racters. 

I  have  present  to  my  mind  an  acquaintance,  who  has  seen  more  of  the  outside 
of  the  world  than  most  men  :  he  has  lived  in  most  countries  of  the  civilized 
world  ;  yet  I  scarcely  know  a  man  of  a  less  improved  mind.  With  every  exter- 
nal advantage,  he  has  learned  nothing  to  any  useful  purpose.  He  seems  to  have 
passed  from  tlower  to  llower  without  extracting  a  drop  of  honey  ;  and  now  he 
tires  all  his  friends  with  the  frivolous  garrulity  of  a  capricious,  vacant,  and  petu- 
lant old  age. 

I  wish  the  reader  of  these  Memoirs  may  avoid  such  an  error  in  passing  over 
the  history  here  laid  before  him.  An  extraordinary  train  of  facts  is  presented 
to  his  observation  ;  and  if  "  the  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,"  the  history 
before  us  will  surely  furnish  important  matter  of  the  kind,  to  the  eye  of  every 
wise  moral  traveller. 

I  would  here  call  the  attention  of  three  classes  of  men  to  a  single  point  of  prime 
importance ;  namely,  to  the  efficacy  and  excellency  of  real  Christianity,  as  ex- 
hibited in  the  principles  and  practice  of  the  subject  of  these  Memoirs. 

I.  Suppose  the  reader  to  be  so  unhappy  (though  his  misfortune  may  be  least 
perceived  by  himself,)  as  to  be  led  astray  by  bad  society,  in  conjunction  with  "an 
evil  heart  of  unbelief."  I  will  suppose  him  to  be  now  in  the  state  in  which 
Mr.  N.  describes  himself  formerly  to  have  been,  and  in  which  also  the  writer  of 
these  Memoirs  once  was.  I  will  suppose  him  to  be  given  up  to  "  believe  his 
own  lie ;"  and  that  he  may  be  in  the  habit  of  thinking,  that  God,  when  he  made 
man,  left  him  to  find  his  way,  without  any  express  revelation  of  the  mind  and 
will  of  his  Maker  and  Governor ;  or,  at  most,  that  he  is  left  to  the  only  rule  in 
morals,  which  nature  may  be  supposed  to  present.  What  that  way  is,  which 
such  a  thinker  will  take,  is  sufficiently  evident  from  the  general  course  and 
habits  of  unbelievers. — But  there  is  a  conscience  in  man.  Conscience,  in  sober 
moments,  often  alarms  the  most  stout-hearted.  When  such  an  unbeliever  meets 
an  overwhelming  providence,  or  lies  on  a  death-bed,  he  will  probably  awake  to 
a  strong  sense  of  his  real  condition.  He  will  feel,  if  not  very  hardened  indeed, 
in  what  a  forlorn,  unprovided,  and  dangerous  state  he  exists.  Life  is  the  mo- 
ment in  which  only  this  sceptical  presumption  can  continue  ;  and,  when  it  is 
terminating,  where  is  he  to  set  the  sole  of  his  foot  ?  He  wildly  contemplates  the 
book  of  nature,  in  which  he  may  have  been  persuaded,  that  man  may  read  all  he 
Deeds  to  know  ;  but  the  forlorn  outcast  sees  nothing  there  to  meet  his  case  as  a 
sinner.  Infinite  power,  wisdom,  contrivance,  general  provision  alone  appear; 
but  nothing  of  that  further  and  distinct  information,  which  a  dying  offender 
needs.  He  wants  footing,  and  finds  none.  He  needs  the  hand  of  a  friend  to 
grasp,  but  none  is  seen.  Possibilities  shock  his  apprehension.  He  may,  per- 
haps discern,  that  the  present  system  has  a  moral  government,  which  frowns 

*  67 


68  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

upon  guilt ;  and,  for  aught  he  knows  to  the  contrary,  the  next  scene  may  pre- 
sent a  Judge  upon  his  throne  of  justice — this  world,  his  present  idol,  vanished 
like  smoke — and  quick  and  dead  called  to  give  their  account.  Where  then  ig 
he? — an  atom  of  guilt  and  wietchedness !  All  this,  I  say,  may  be,  for  aught  he 
knows  to  the  contrary.  But  the  express  and  well-authenticated  revelation,  which 
that  Judge  hath  sent  to  man,  tells  us  plainly  that  all  this  shall  be,  and  that  every 
eye  sliall  behold  it ! 

"Be  it  so,"  such  a  reader  may  reply,  "still  I  am  what  I  am.  My  habits 
of  thinking  are  fixed  ;  and  I  perceive  my  habits  of  life  can  only  be  decently 
borne  out  by  my  profession  of  unbelief.  Both  are  now  inveterate.  Nor  do  I 
see,  all  things  considered,  what  can  be  done  in  my  case.  How  can  I  adopt  the 
Christian  revelation?  and  what  could  it  do  for  me  if  I  could?"  I  answer  by 
calling  your  attention  to  the  fact  before  us.  What  was  the  case  of  John  New- 
ton ? 

Could  any  one  be  more  deeply  sunk  in  depravity,  in  profligacy,  in  infidelity, 
than  he  ?  Can  you  even  conceive  a  rational  creature  more  degraded,  or  more 
hardened  in  his  evil  habits  ?  Would  you  attempt  to  recover  such  a  mind  by 
arguments,  drawn  from  the  advantage  which  virtue  has  over  vice  ?  or  by  rous- 
ing his  attention  to  the  duties  of  natural  religion  ?  or  the  possible  consequences  of 
a  future  retribution  ?  He  would  have  gone  on  thinking  he  had  made  the  most  of 
his  circumstances,  in  his  practice  of  catching  fish,  and  eating  them  almost  raw — 
He  would  sullenly  have  proceeded  to  sleep  through  the  drying  of  his  one  shirt, 
which  he  had  just  washed  on  the  rock,  and  put  on  wet — He  would,  with  a  sa- 
vage ferocity,  have  watched  an  opportunity  for  murdering  his  master — He  would 
have  drowned  all  reflection  in  a  drunken  revel,  and  overwhelmed  all  remon- 
strance by  belching  out  newly-invented  blasphemies ;  and  then  sought  to  rush 
headlong,  in  a  drunken  paroxysm,  into  the  ocean. 

Here  is  certainly  presented  the  utmost  pitch  of  a  depraved  and  a  degraded  na- 
ture ;  nor  does  it  seem  possible  for  Satan  to  carry  his  point  farther  with  a  man— 
except  i::  one  single  instance,  namely,  by  the  final  disbelief  of  a  remedy. 

Now,  by  God's  help,  this  divine  remedy  was  applied,  and  its  efficacy  demon- 
strated, of  which  there  are  thousands  of  living  witnesses.  A  plain  matter  of  fact 
is  before  us.  It  pleased  God,  by  a  train  of  dispensations,  that  this  prodigal  should 
"  come  to  himself."  He  is  made  to  feel  his  wants  and  misery.  He  follows  the 
"  light  shining  in  a  dark  place."  He  calls  for  help.  He  is  made  willing  to  fol- 
low his  guide.  He  proceeds  with  implicit  confidence.  And  now  let  us  examine 
to  what,  at  length,  he  is  brought ;  and  also  by  what  means. 

I  speak  of  a  matter  of  fact — whither  is  he  brought  ?  He  is  brought  from  the 
basest,  meanest,  under-trodden  state  of  slavery — from  a  state  of  mind  still  more 
degraded,  being  "foolish,  disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers  lusts  and  plea- 
sures, living  in  malice  and  envy,  hateful  and  hating" — wanting  nothing  of  a  com- 
plete devil  but  his  powers.  This  man  is  brought,  I  say,  to  be  a  faithful  and 
zealous  servant  of  his  God  ;  an  able  and  laborious  minister  of  Christ ;  a  useful 
and  benevolent  friend  to  his  neighbour ;  wise  to  secure  the  salvation  of  his  own 
soul,  and  wise  to  win  the  souls  of  others. 

Consider  also  the  means  by  which  he  was  brought.  It  was  not  by  the  argu- 
ments of  philosophers,  or  the  rational  considerations  of  what  is  called  natural  re- 
ligion. Mr.  N.'s  own  account  informs  us,  that  the  peculiar  discoveries  of  revealed 
truth  gradually  broke  in  upon  his  mind;  till,  at  length,  he  was  made  sensible 
that  there  was  a  remedy  provided  in  the  gospel,  and  which  was  fully  sufficient 
to  meet  even  his  case,  and  he  found  that,  and  that  only,  to  be  "the  power  of 
God  unto  salvation." 

The  result,  therefore,  which  should  be  drawn  from  these  premises  is  the  fol- 
lowing: — There  exists  a  desperate  disorder  in  the  world,  called  sin.  Heathens 
as  well  as  Christians  have  marked  its  malignant  influence;  they  have  tried  various 
expedients,  which  have  been  prescribed  for  its  cure,  or  at  least  its  mitigation; 
but  no  means,  except  God's  own  appointed  means,  have  been  discovered,  that 


MKMOIRS    OF    Tin:     KKV.    JOHN     NKWTON.  GO 

have  been  able  to  relieve  so  mucb  as  a  siii<;Ie  individual.  \'et,  stranj^c  to  say, 
this  mediciiKi  mcnlis  of  (iod's  own  appointriu'nt,  to  u'lnch  only  he  has  promised 
a  peeuliar  blessinoj,  and  by  which  he  is  daily  recovering];  men  in  the  most  (icspe- 
rate  eireiimstinees,  who  actually  employ  it:  stranjije  to  say,  this  remedy  still  re- 
mains a  stujnblinij  block — is  counted  foolishness — insomuc'i,  that  many  will 
rather  dash  this  cup  of  salvation  from  the  lipsof  a  prolli<;ate,  liki?  N<'wtofi,  when 
disposed  to  receive  it,  than  he  should  obtain  relief  that  way.  Their  conduct 
seems  to  say,  "  Rather  let  such  a  wretch  ^o  on  in  his  prollifj;acy,  than  the  gos- 
pel be  aekncnvledged  to  be  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of  (iod." 

Not  that  th»'  ease  of  Mr.  N.,  here  presented  to  the  consideration  of  an  unbe- 
liever, is  broup;ht  forward  as  if  the  gospel  needed  any  farther  evidence,  or  has 
occasion  for  facts  of  our  own  time  to  give  it  additional  authenticity  ;  but  we  are 
directed  to  regard  the  "cloud  of  witnesses,"  among  which  our  departed  brother 
was  distinguished;  "and  though  now  dead,  yet  speaketh."  May  the  reader 
have  ears  to  hear  the  important  report ! 

Does  the  cpiestion  return,  therefore,  as  to  what  the  unbeliever  should  do?  Let 
him,  after  seriously  considering  what  is  here  advanced,  consider  also  what  con- 
duct is  becoming  a  responsible,  or  at  least  a  rational  creature  ?  Surely  it  becomes 
such  a  one  to  avoid  all  means  of  stifling  the  voice  of  conscience  whenever  it 
begins  to  speak  ;  to  regard  the  voice  of  God  yet  speaking  to  him  in  the  revelation 
of  his  grace,  and  that  much  more  humbly  and  seriously  than  such  persons  are 
wont  to  do.  It  becomes  liim,  if  he  have  any  regard  to  the  interest  of  his  own 
soul,  or  the  soids  of  his  fellow-creatures,  to  give  no  countenance,  by  his  declara- 
tions or  example,  to  the  senseless  cavils,  and  indecent  scoffs,  by  which  the  pro- 
fligate aim  to  cloak  the  disorders  of  their  hearts  ;  by  which  vanity  aims  at  distinc 
lion,  and  half-thinkers  affect  depth.  The  person  I  am  now^  speaking  to  cannot 
but  observe  how  much  the  judgment  becomes  the  dupe  of  the  passions.  "  If  the 
veil  be  upon  the  heart,  it  will  be  upon  every  thing."  We  need  not  only  an 
object  presented,  but  an  organ  to  discern  it.  Now  the  gospel,  only,  affords  both 
these.  Mr.  N.  becomes  an  instructive  example  in  this  respect  to  the  unbe- 
liever. "One  of  the  first  helps,"  says  he,  "I  received  (in  consequence  of  a 
determination  to  examine  the  New  Testament  more  carefully)  was  from  Luke 
vi.  13,  '  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts  to  your  children, 
how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that 
ask  him  ?'  I  had  been  sensible,  that  to  profess  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  w^hen,  in 
reality,  I  did  not  believe  his  history,  was  no  better  than  a  mockery  of  the  heart- 
searching  God  ;  but  here  I  found  a  Spirit  spoken  of,  which  w^as  to  be  communi- 
cated to  those  who  ask  it.  Upon  this  I  reasoned  thus  :  if  this  book  be  true,  the 
promise  in  this  passage  must  be  true  likewise.  I  have  need  of  that  very  Spirit 
by  which  the  whole  was  written,  in  order  to  understand  it  aright.  He  has 
engaged  here,  to  give  that  Spirit  to  those  who  ask ;  and  if  it  be  of  God,  he  will 
make  good  his  own  w^ord." 

A  man,  therefore,  who  is  found  in  this  unhappy  state,  but  not  judicially  har- 
dened in  it,  should  mark  this  stage  of  INIr.  N.'s  recovery,  and  attend  to  the 
facts  and  evidences  of  the  power  and  excellency  of  real  religion,  such  as  this 
before  him.  He  should  appreciate  that  gospel,  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
employ  as  his  instrument  for  displaying  the  Avonders  of  his  might  in  the  moral 
world.  He  should  pray  that  he  may  experience  the  powder  of  it  in  his  own 
heart,  and  thus  not  lose  the  additional  benefit  of  the  cases  presented  to  him  in 
Memoirs  like  these  ;  a  case  probably  far  exceeding  his  own  in  the  malignity  of  its 
symptoms.  Let  him  also  consider,  that,  while  such  convictions  can  produce  no 
real  loss  to  him,  they  may  secure  advantages  beyond  calculation.  He  may  not 
be  able  at  present  to  comprehend  how  "  godliness  is  profitable  for  all  things,  in 
having  not  only  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  but  that  which  is  to  come  ;" 
but  he  may  see,  as  a  rational  creature,  that,  at  the  very  lowest  estimation,  he  has 
taken  a  safe  side,  by  embracing  the  only  hope  set  before  him  :  and  on  this  ground 
it  is  clearly  demonstrable,  that  not  only  the  grossest  folly  must  attach  to  the 


70  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.   JOHN    NEWTON. 

rejector  of  a  revelation  attended  witli  such  accumulated  evidences,  but  also  actual 
guilt,  and  the  higlicst  in<^ratitude  and  presumption. 

II.  But  there  is  another  class  of  men,  to  whom  I  would  recommend  a 
serious  consideration  of  Mr.  N.'s  relif^ious  character  and  principles.  The  person? 
whom  I  am  now  addressing  are  convinced  of  the  truth  of  revelation,  and  some 
of  them  ably  contend  for  it  against  unbelievers.  They  are  also  (conscientious— 
they  are  often  useful  in  society — and  are  sometimes  found  amiable  and  benevolent: 
they  are  even  religious,  according  to  their  views  of  religion;  and  sonae  of  them 
are  exact  in  their  devotions.  Yet  from  certain  morbid  symptoms^  they  appear 
not  to  receive  the  grace  of  God  in  truth,  nor  to  be  cordially  disposed  to  the  spirit 
of  the  gospel.  So  much  apparent  right  intention  and  exemplary  conduct  seems, 
indeed,  to  demand  respect:  and  a  respect  which  some,  who  possess  more  zeal 
than  judgment,  do  not  duly  pay  them. 

Ardklio  despises  his  neighbour  Eusebius's  religious  views  and  habits;  and 
not  only  deems  him  a  blind  Pharisee,  but  has  sometimes  expressed  the  sentiment 
in  the  rudest  terms.  This  reminds  rae  of  the  old  story  of  Diogenes'  walking  on 
the  costly  carpet  of  his  brother  philosopher,  saying,  "  I  trample  on  the  pride 
of  Plato."  "  Yes,"  said  Plato,  "  but  with  greater  pride,  Diogenes." 

If  it  be  asked,  Why  should  any  one  judge  unfavourably  of  such  a  character 
as  Eusebius  ?  I  answer,  we  may  charitably  seek  to  convince  one  whom  we  have 
reason  to  think  under  fatal  mistakes,  without  any  disposition  to  judge  or  condemn 
him.  I  meet  a  traveller  who  is  confidently  pursuing  a  path,  which  I  have  reason 
to  believe  is  both  wide  of  his  mark,  and  dangerous  to  his  person  :  I  may  charita- 
bly attempt  to  direct  his  steps,  v/ithout  thinking  ill  of  his  intention.  It  is  re- 
corded of  our  Lord,  that  he  even  loved  a  young  man,  who  went  away  sorrowful 
on  having  his  grand  idol  exposed.  But  why,  it  is  asked,  should  you  suspect  any 
thing  essentially  wrong  in  such  characters  as  you  describe  ?  I  reply,  for  the  fol« 
lowing  reasons  : — 

I  have  observed  with  much  concern,  when  God  hath  wrought  such  a  mighty 
operation  of  grace  in  the  heart  of  a  m^in  like  Newton,  that  this  man  has  not,  upon 
such  a  saving  change  being  wrought,  suited  the  religious  taste  of  the  persons  just 
mentioned.  They  will,  indeed,  commend  his  external  change  of  conduct ;  but 
by  no  means  relish  his  broken  and  contrite  spirit,  or  his  ascribing  the  change  to  free 
and  unmerited  favour,  and  his  "  counting  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency 
of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus,"  as  that  Lord  who  has  thus  called  him  "  from 
darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  to  God."  They  will  not  relish 
the  zeal  and  evangelical  strain  of  his  preaching,  his  endeavouring  to  alarm  a 
stupid  sleeping  conscience,  to  probe  a  deceitful  heart,  to  expose  the  wretchedness 
of  the  world,  and  to  rend  the  veil  from  formality  and  hypocrisy  ;  nay,  they  wiD 
rather  prefer  some  dry  moralist,  or  mere  formalist,  who,  instead  of  having  ex- 
perienced any  such  change  of  heart,  will  rather  revile  it. 

Again,  I  have  observed  a  lamentable  disposition  of  mind  in  such  persons  to  form 
false  and  unfavourable  associations.  They  will  pay  too  much  attention  to  inju- 
rious representations,  true  or  false,  of  a  religious  class  of  mankind,  whom  the 
world  has  branded  with  some  general  term  of  reproach.  Two  or  three  ignorant 
or  extravagant  fanatics  shall  be  admitted  to  represent  the  religious  world  at  large, 
not  considering  how  much  such  oiTensive  characters  are  actually  grieving  those 
whose  cause  I  am  pleading.  No  one,  indeed,  can  have  lived  long  in  society,  but  he 
must  needs  have  met  the  counterfeit  of  every  excellence.  In  the  article  of  property, 
for  instance,  who  is  not  on  the  watch  lest  he  should  be  imposed  on  ?  And,  while 
the  love  of  property  is  so  general,  who  is  not  studious  to  discover  the  ditference 
between  the  true  and  the  false?  It  will  be  so  in  religion,  wherever  there  is  the 
attention  which  its  worth  so  imperiously  demands.  Love  has  a  piercing  eye, 
which  will  discover  its  object  in  a  crowd.  But  if  there  be  this  disposition  to 
confound  in  the  lump  the  precious  with  the  vile,  it  is  symptomatic  of  something 
morbid  in  the  heart.  We  have  reason  to  fear  a  latent  aversion  from  vital  and 
spiritual  religion,  notwithstanding  all  the  allowance  that  can  be  made  for  the 


mi:moius  of  the  rkv.  John  nkwton.  71 

prcvailinj^  prcjiiJices  of  their  education  and  circumstances,  in  llie  persons  olTcnded. 
Anil  here,  also,  we  cannot  hut  lament  the*  efle<'t  of  sucli  a  disposition  in  those 
perverse  conclusions  these  persons  are  often  ohserved  to  draw  from  a  sirrnon. 
Oi'  the  two  handU's  wliich  attach  to  every  thinjj;,  wliat  must  we  tliink  of  that 
mind  wliich  is  ever  choosin<^  the  wronj];?  Jesus  Christ,  for  instance,  shows  how 
much  the  farm,  the  oxen,  and  the  wife  hecame  impediments  in  the  way  of  tjjose 
who  refused  his  invitation.  But  a  perverse  conclusion  would  infer  that  he  was, 
therefore,  an  enemy  to  lawful  enf^jap^i^mtMits.  Candour,  however,  sees  at  a  f^lance, 
that  this  was  not  his  desij^jn  in  speakinj;  the  parable.  I  lis  drift  was  evidently  to 
mark  the  state  and  spirit  of  the  recusants,  and  not  to  discountenance  their  lawful 
occupations,  lie  meant  to  show,  that  even  lawful  pursuits  may  be  unlawfully- 
pursued,  when  they  become  sole  objects,  and  are  thus  preferred  to  his  inestima- 
ble proposal.  It  is  thus  the  well-disposed  hearer  will  mark  the  design  of  his 
minister,  and  draw  wholesome  nourishment  from  that  discourse,  which  another 
•will  turn  to  poison,  by  stopping  to  cavil  at  the  letter. 

Another  objection  arises  from  the  afiinity  which  characters  of  this  class  have 
with  a  "  world  which  lieth  in  wickedness."  In  this  instance  of  their  worldly- 
attachments,  their  charity  will  readily  **  cover  a  multitude  of  sins,"  and  form  ex- 
cuses for  serious  breaches  of  both  tables  of  the  law,  in  their  worldly  friends. 
They  appear  in  their  element  while  in  the  society  of  these  friends,  especially  if 
wealthy  and  accomplished.  If  any  person's  ear  is  wounded  with  a  profane  ex- 
pression from  one  of  their  rich  or  fashionable  acquaintance,  they  are  ready  to 
whisper,  that,  "  notwithstanding  his  unguarded  language,  he  has  yet  upon  the 
whole  one  of  the  best  of  hearts." 

Yet  an  infiiUible  monitor  has  said,  "  Know  ye  not,  that  the  friendship  of  the 
world  is  enmity  with  God  r"  If  the  old  maxim  does  not  always  hold  good,  that 
*'  A  man  is  known  by  the  company  he  keeps,"  it  will  infallibly  stand  good  if  we 
add  one  word  to  it,  namely,  '•'  that  a  man  is  know^n  by  the  company  he  chooses  to 
keep."  The  physician  may  be  detained  in  an  infectious  chamber,  and  the  lawyer 
be  found  conversing  with  his  client  in  a  shower  of  rain ;  but  nobody  will  infer  from 
thence,  that  the  one  chooses  to  breathe  foul  air,  or  that  the  other  chooses  to  be 
wet  to  the  skin.  While  the  true  Christian,  therefore,  will  avoid  inurbanity,  fanat- 
icism, or  becoming  the  dupe  of  any  religious  party,  he  will  also  join  the  Psalmist 
in  declaring,  *'  I  am  a  companion  of  all  them  that  fear  thee,  and  of  them  that 
keep  thy  precepts." 

Again,  these  moral  and  religious  characters,  whom  I  am  labouring  to  convince 
of  their  errors,  have  been  observed  to  be  more  disposed  to  nurse,  than  to  examine 
their  prejudices  against  a  minister  of  Mr.  N.'s  principles.  "  His  teaching,"  say 
they,  "tends  to  divide  a  parish,  or  a  family."  But  why  do  they  not  examine 
the  reason  ?  Why  do  they  not  consider,  that  introducing  good  has  ever  been  the 
occasion  of  disturbing  evil  ?  I  recollect  a  great  family,  whose  servants  were  in  a 
ferment,  because  one  truly  conscientious  man  was  found  among  them.  ''  He 
will  spoil  the  place,"  was  their  term,  because  he  would  not  connive  at  their  ini- 
quity. But  let  rne  ask,  what  was  to  be  blamed  in  this  alHiir  ?  His  integrity  or 
their  corruption  ?  The  master  understood  the  case,  and  valued  his  servant  in 
proportion  as  he  marked  the  division.  And  thus  it  is  in  religion,  while  moving 
in  a  blind  and  corrupt  world.  Christ,  though  the  Prince  of  Peace,  expressly  de- 
clared, that  his  doctrine  would  be  the  occasion  of  much  division  in  the  world  ; 
that  he  "  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword  ;"  that  he  should  be  the  occasion 
of  family  variance,  &c.  Matt.  x.  34,  3o  ;  and  warns  his  disciples  of  what  they 
must  expect  while  they  endeavour  faithfully  to  conduct  his  interests.  Plain 
matter  of  fact  declares,  that  to  maintain  truth  has  been  the  occasion  of  the  suffer- 
ing state  of  the  true  church  in  all  ages,  and  that  often  unto  the  death  of  its  in- 
numerable martyrs.  But,  should  a  man  who  reads  his  Bible,  or  has  any  regard 
for  the  interests  of  truth,  need  to  have  this  explained? 

Another  mistake  might  be  exposed  in  the  stale  objection,  that  such  principles 
as  Mr.  N.'s  tend  to  injure  the  interests  of  morality,  from  his  strictly  adhering  to 


72  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

the  doctrine  of  our  eleventh  article,  on  justification  by  faith.  I  would  hope  that 
this  objection,  in  many,  arises  from  a  very  sli«:5ht  acquaintance  with  the  subject. 
It  requires,  indeed,  but  little  attention  to  mark  how  expressly  the  Scriptures 
mainta-in  our  justification  on  the  sole  merit  of  our  Redeemer,  while  they  as  fully 
maintain  the  necessity  of  our  sanctification,  or  holiness,  by  his  Spirit.  It  has  been 
proved  over  and  over,  by  sound  and  incontestable  arjruments,  that  these  two 
grand  fundamentals  of  our  religion  are  so  far  from  opposing  each  other,  either  in 
Scripture  or  experience,  that,  when  real,  they  are  found  inseparable.  But,  be- 
cause this  is  not  the  place  to  either  state  or  defend  this  doctrine  at  large,  it  may 
help  such  as  have  hitherto  stumbled  respecting  it,  to  observe  an  illustration  and 
proof  of  this  position,  in  the  matter  of  fact  just  now  presented  to  our  view. 

To  one  willing  to  learn,  I  would  say,  what  proof  would  you  require  of  the 
practical  tendency  of  principles  like  Mr.  N.'s?  We  bring  you,  in  his  history,  a 
most  deplorable  instance  of  human  depravity  and  deep  moral  disorder.  What 
experiment  shall  be  tried  to  recover  this  wretched  creature  to  God  and  to  him- 
self? Regard,  I  say,  the  fiict  in  this  man's  history.  You  will  find,  that  his  re- 
covery was  not  brought  about  by  such  considerations  as  are  urged  in  what  are 
termed  moral  or  rational  discourses  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  by  such  truths  as  he 
laboured  throughout  his  ministry  to  establish,  not  only  from  the  Scriptures,  but 
from  his  own  experience  of  their  efficacy.  He  dwelt  on  truths,  which  are  es- 
sential and  peculiar  to  Christianity  ;  such  as  the  guilt  and  utter  depravity  of  our 
fallen  nature,  whereby  man  is  become  an  alien  and  apostate  from  his  God  ;  his 
inability  to  recover  himself  without  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  the  necessity 
of  regeneration  by  the  same  Spirit,  and  of  faith  in  the  Redeemer,  not  only  as  the 
only  ground  of  his  justification  before  God,  but  as  the  root  and  motive  of  all  ac- 
ceptable obedience  and  good  works.  "  If  I  wanted  a  man  to  fly,"  said  Mr.  N.,. 
**  I  must  contrive  to  find  him  wings;  and  thus,  if  I  would  successfully  enforce 
moral  duties,  I  must  advance  evangelical  motives."  He  preached  truths  like 
these  constantly  and  fervently,  and  he  lived  a  consistent  example  of  them. 

Thus  in  all  things  approving  himself  a  true  disciple  and  minister  of  Christ, 
those  who  knew  him,  know,  without  making  any  odious  comparison,  it  might  be 
literally  affirmed  of  Mr.  N.,  that  "  by  pureness,  by  knowledge,  by  long-suffering, 
by  kindness,  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  love  unfeigned,  by  the  word  of  truth,  by  the 
power  of  God,  by  the  armour  of  righteousness  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left," 
his  mouth  was  opened  and  his  heart  enlarged  towards  men. 

I  trust  it  is  from  a  pure  motive  that  I  am  endeavouring  to  convince  persons  of 
the  class  I  am  addressing  of  their  mistake.  And  I  am  the  nwre  induced  to  bring 
a  case  in  point  before  them,  because  I  think  it  cannot  be  paralleled  as  an  instance 
of  the  power  of  religion  among  those  who  labour  to  keep  up  prejudices  against 
ministers  of  Mr.  N.'s  character;  or  who,  by  unfair  or  partial  statements,  strive 
to  subvert  the  doctrines  he  preached,  and  the  great  end  to  which  all  his  labours 
were  directed,  namely,  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man. 

If,  indeed,  any  one  "  is  willing  to  be  deceived,  let  him  be  deceived."  At  least, 
such  an  one  will  not  be  addressed  here.  But  if  a  man  has  any  serious  sense  of 
the  value  of  his  soul — of  its  lost  condition  by  sin,  and  of  recovering  the  friendship 
of  his  God — if  he  feel  the  express  declaration  in  the  Scriptures  of  an  eternity  of 
happiness  or  misery  to  be  of  infinite  importance,  and  to  which  the  weightiest 
concern  in  this  perishing  world  is  but  as  the  "dust  on  the  balance" — let  such  an  one 
consider  these  things.  Let  him  inquire,  w^iether  those  who  object  to  the  charac- 
ter and  views  of  such  a  minister  as  Mr.  N.  labour  first  to  probe  the  state  of  their 
own  hearts  deeply,  as  he  did?  When  he  was  no  longer  an  infidel,  had  renounced 
his  grosser  habits,  and  was  to  all  appearance  a  new^  man ;  "  Yet,"  says  he, 
"  though  I  cannot  doubt  that  this  change,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  was  wrought  by 
the  Spirit  and  power  of  God,  still  I  was  greatly  deficient  in  many  respects.  I 
was  in  some  degree  affected  with  a  sense  of  my  enormous  sins,  but  I  was  little 
aware  of  the  innate  evils  of  my  heart.  I  had  no  apprehension  of  the  spirituality 
and  extent  of  the  law  of  God.     The  hidden  life  of  a  Christian,  as  it  consists  ia 


MKMOIRS   OF  THE   RKV.    JOHN   NEWTON.  73 

communion  with  Cod  !)y  Josus  Christ,  and  a  continual  dcpcndcnrr  tipon  him  for 
houily  su[)|)lii's  of  wisdom,  strt'n<;lh.  an<l  comfort,  was  a  mystery  of  which  I  had 
as  yet  no  knowlcdi^v.  I  acknowh'dj^cd  the  Lord's  mercy  in  |)ar<h)niii^  what  wjus 
past,  but  depended  cliielly  upon  my  own  resolutiori  to  do  better  for  the  time  to 
come." 

Let  the  honest  inijuircr  also  consider,  whether  the  ol)jectors  just  spoken  of  are 
observed  to  be  as  anxious  in  tlieir  pursuits  to  serve  (iod  and  pro})a^ate  his  will 
to  {glorify  his  Son,  and  to  save  the  souls  of  men?  Wliether  tlwy  liave  experi- 
enced the  force  of  truth  in  tlie  conversion  of  their  own  liearts  and  lives?  "  Con- 
formed to  the  world,"  as  he  once  was,  have  they  been  since  "  transformed  by  tlie 
renewinn;  of  their  minds,"  as  lie  at  leni^th  became?  A  few  such  (juestions  as 
these,  well  considered,  would  lead  to  important  discoveries.  Such  an  inquiry 
would  show,  that,  however  some  persons  may  be  able  to  treat  the  outworks  of 
revelation,  as  they  may  of  any  other  science  they  have  studied  ;  yet  for  such  to 
dotrmatize  on  religion,  as  it  consists  in  a  vital,  spiritual,  and  experimental  princi- 
ple, would  be  as  absurd  as  for  a  man  originally  deprived  of  one  of  the  five  senses, 
to  deny  the  perceptions  of  those  who  possess  them  all.  In  short,  it  is  as  ridiculous 
as  it  is  profane,  for  men  rashly  to  assert  on  religious  points,  who  evidently  appear 
to  have  nothing  so  little  at  heart  as  the  real  influence  and  actual  interests  of  re- 
ligion. 

Lastly,  let  nominal  Christians  seriously  consider  whether  our  immortal  interests 
are  not  much  too  important  to  be  stated  upon  a  mere  prejudice  of  education — an 
old  unrevised  habit  of  thinking — a  taking  it  for  granted  that  they  are  right,  when 
the  event  may  awfully  prove  the  reverse  ;  and  that  too,  when  such  errors  can 
never  be  rectified  ?  The  persons  with  whom  I  have  been  pleading  would  pity 
the  Jew  or  the  Pagan  in  such  an  error :  I  earnestly  pray  that  they  may  be  ena- 
bled to  see  as  clearly  their  own  mistake,  and  not  resent  the  admonition  of  a  real 
friend  now  seeking  to  prevent  it. 

IIL  But  there  yet  remains  a  class  of  persons,  found  in  the  religious  world,  who 
entertain  a  high  regard  for  Mr.  N.'s  character,  and  who  should  gather  that  in- 
struction from  it  of  which  they  appear  to  stand  in  great  need.  "  They  should 
all  take  care,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "  that  they  do  not  make  their  profession  of  re- 
ligion a  receipt  in  full  for  all  other  obligations."  I  do  not  regard  this  class  as 
hypocrites,  so  much  as  self-deceivers.  They  have  a  zeal  for  the  gospel ;  but 
without  a  comprehensive  view  of  its  nature.  They  do  not  consider,  that,  in 
avoiding  error  on  the  one  hand,  they  are  plunging  into  a  contrary  mistake.  Like 
a  child  crossing  a  bridge,  they  tremblingly  avoid  the  deep  water  which  they  per- 
ceive is  roaring  on  one  side ;  and  recede  from  it  till  they  are  ready  to  perish, 
from  not  perceiving  the  danger  of  that  which  lies  on  the  other  side. 

The  class  of  which  I  am  here  speaking  are  defective  in  the  grand  article  of  a 
humble  and  contrite  spirit.  I  remember  Mr.  N.  used  to  remark,  that  "if  any 
one  criterion  could  be  given  of  a  real  work  of  grace  begun  in  the  heart  of  a  sin- 
ner, it  would  be  found  in  his  contrite  spirit."  Nothing  is  more  insisted  on  in 
Scripture,  as  essential  to  real  religion.  I  never  knew  any  truly  serious  Christian 
but  would  readily  join  in  acknowledging,  that  "  the  religion  of  a  sinner,"  as  Mr. 
N.  expresses  it,  "stands  on  two  pillars;  namely,  what  Christ  did  for  us  in  his 
flesh,  and  w^hat  he  performs  in  us  by  his  Spirit.  Most  errors,"  says  he,  "arise 
from  an  attempt  to  separate  these  two."  But  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  so 
it  is  now;  the  enemy  comes  and  sow^s  tares  among  the  wheat ;  and  a  sort  of  loose 
profession  has  obtained,  which  has  brought  much  reproach  on  religion,  and  be- 
come a  cause  of  stumbling  to  many,  who  perceive  a  class  of  Christians  contend- 
ing for  only  a  part  of  Christianity. 

You  can  prevail  little  with  a  professor  of  this  description,  in  exhorting  him  by 
"the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ,"  to  self-denying,  patient,  or  forbearing 
habits.  If  you  state  the  genius  of  Christ's  religion  as  it  relates  to  the  returning 
good  for  evil ;  in  blessing  them  that  curse,  and  praying  for  such  as  revile  and 
persecute ;  in  showing,  out  of  a  good  conversation,  their  works  with  meekness 
K 


74  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  REV.  JOHN  NEWTON. 

of  wisdom  ;  or  in  having  a  fervent  charity  towards  all  men,  &c.  he  is  ready  to 
kindle,  and  to  cover  his  conduct  by  a  crude  system  of  mere  doctrinal  points,  ill'un- 
derstood.  It  is  well  if  your  charitable  remonstrance  does  not  lead  him  to  ask, 
Whether  you  mean  to  bring  him  back  to  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  or  to  Nelson's 
Festivals  and  Fasts  ?  He  laments  that  you  yourself  are  not  clear  in  the  gospel, 
because  you  maintain  the  whole  of  it ;  and  that  you  are  not  faithful,  if  you  main- 
tain the  whole  of  it  in  a  patient,  forbearing  spirit. 

The  views  of  such  persons,  and  the  evil  tempers  to  which  they  give  place  in 
their  .spiritual  warfare,  have  often  reminded  me  of  the  shrewd  answer  which 
our  Richard  I.  sent  the  Pope  ;  who  was  angry  because  a  certain  warlike  bishop 
had  fallen  by  Richard  in  battle,  and  whom,  being  an  ecclesiastic,  the  Pope  called 
his  son.  Richard  sent  the  bishop's  armour  to  the  Pope,  with  the  words  of  Joseph's 
brethren,  "  Know  now,  whether  this  be  thy  son's  coat  or  not." 

Nothing,  however,  could  be  more  opposed  to  the  spirit  and  character  of  our 
departed  friend  than  the  temper  that  has  just  been  described.  His  zeal  in  pro- 
pagating the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  was  not  more 
conspicuous  than  the  tenderness  of  his  spirit  as  to  the  manner  of  liis  maintaining 
and  delivering  it.  He  was  found  constantly  "  speaking  the  truth  in  love,  and 
in  meekness  instructing  those  that  oppose  themselves,  if  God  peradventure  would 
give  them  repentance  to  the  acknowledging  the  truth."  There  was  a  gentle- 
ness, a  candour,  and  a  forbearance  in  him,  that  1  do  not  recollect  to  have  seen  in 
an  equal  degree  among  his  brethern  ;  and  which  had  so  conciliating  an  etfect, 
that  even  the  enemies  of  truth  often  spoke  loudly  in  praise  of  his  character.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  generated  such  an  affection  in  his  friends,  that,  had  he  at- 
tempted to  preach  longer  than  he  did,  a  great  part  of  his  congregation  would 
have  gathered,  were  it  only  for  the  pleasure  they  had  in  seeing  his  person. 

That  this  account  is  not  panegyric,  is  clear  to  all  who  personally  knew  Mr.  N. 
But  as  many  who  may  read  these  Memoirs  had  not  that  pleasure,  I  will  add  the 
testimony  of  one,  whose  nice  discernment  of  character  will  admit  of  no  ques- 
tion : — 

"  A  people  will  love  a  minister,  if  a  minister  seems  to  love  his  people;  the 
old  maxim  simile  agit  in  simile,  is  in  no  case  more  exactly  verified ;  therefore 
you  were  beloved  at  Olney  ;  and,  if  you  preached  to  the  Chickasaws  and  Choc- 
taws,  would  be  equally  beloved  by  them."* 

As  this  spirit  of  Christian  benevolence  and  charity  seems  not  to  have  been 
sufficiently  cultivated  among  us,  while  a  furious  and  often  abusive  zeal  for  certain 
points,  as  Cow  per  remarks,  has  been  substituted  for  the  whole  truth,  I  am  led  to 
dwell  longer  than  I  intended  in  enforcing  this  amiable  feature  of  Mr.  N.'s  cha- 
racter ;  especially  on  account  of  those  Christians,  who  have  imbibed  a  false  taste 
in  their  religion,  from  such  teachers,  or  books,  as  have  fallen  in  their  way.  I 
therefore  earnestly  request  those  persons  to  weigh  well  the  inquiries  which  fol- 
low : — 

Have  you  ever  sufficiently  considered  the  evil  of  divisions  and  heart-burnings 
in  a  church  ;  and  what  interest  that  enemy,  who  comes  to  sow  tares  among  the 
wheat,  takes  in  promoting  them  ?  Do  you  reflect,  that  another  Christian  may 
be  doing  God's  work,  though  his  mode  of  doing  it  may  not  meet  your  taste,  any- 
more than  your  taste  meets  his  ?  Do  you  consider  how  much  greater  evil  a 
wrong  spirit  and  temper  produce  than  the  things  you  object  against  ?  Do  you 
weigh  the  consequences  of  your  haste  in  weakening  the  hands  and  grieving  the 
heart  of  any  godly  minister,  whom  you  constantly  or  occasionally  attend  ;  and  in 
actually  laying  a  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  the  ungodly,  while  you  depre- 
ciate him  and  his  services  ?  Nothing  affiicted  that  eminent  character,  Mr.  Cado- 
gan,  like  what  he  met  from  some  religious  persons  of  this  kind,  as  I  have  related 
from  his  own  lips,  in  his  Memoirs.! 

Let  me  farther  exhort  such  as  are  in  danger  from  this  unchastised  spirit  to  con- 

♦  Haley's  life  of  Cowpcr,  Letter  xx>ii.  t  See  Memoirs  of  Cadogan,  p.  39. 


J 


MKUOIRS  OF  Tiii:  iu-:v.  JOHN  NCWTorr.  75 

aider,  how  mucli  corrupt  nature  is  at  tliu  bottom  of  this  error.  (Corrupt  naluro 
frets  and  raises  at  any  supposed  contradiction  or  rrstrainl :  it  would  suhslilul*:  tho 
work  of  the  toij«,nie  for  that  of  the  heart:  in  the  mean  tim<',  real  religion  ia 
scorned  by  the  world,  whicli  cannot  distin<»uish  between  a  thin^  so  deformed, 
and  the  tliinrr  as  it  oui,dit  to  appear. 

Consider,  also,  wliether  tliere  needs  any  grace  at  all  in  order  to  maintain  such 
a  sort  of  |)rofession.  We  recpiire  only  to  christen  the  evil  passions  of  corrupt 
nature,  and  then  may  call  names,  hate,  boast,  and  i,nve  ourselves  the  preferenct;, 
as  much  as  any  uiiijodly  man  whatever!  A  zealot  at  an  election  can  light  and 
strive  for  his  favourite  candidate  ;  with  inflamed  zeal  he  can  cause  divisions,  ex- 
hibit jiride,  self-will,  and  impatience  of  subordination  :  but,  let  me  ask,  will  the 
same  evil  tempers  change  their  nature  because  they  arc  cmi)loyed  about  spiritual 
objects  ? 

Much  blame  attaches,  too,  respecting  certain  disputable  points  for  which  such 
persons  strive.  It  seems  as  if  some,  who  arc  otherwise  good  men,  did  not  relish 
the  Bible  till  they  had  garbled  and  selected  it;  and  that,  if  the  whole  were  not 
of  acknowledged  authority,  they  would  condemn  it  as  it  now  stands.  They  speak 
as  if  it  were  not  accurate  in  its  terms,  or  suHiciently  express  or  decisive  in  con- 
firming their  fond  opinions.  This  leads  them  to  be  shy  of  some  parts  of  revela- 
tion, and  to  distort  others,  in  order  to  fit  them  for  their  system  ;  and  while  con- 
tending for  that  system,  they  appear  to  forget  the  stress  which  the  apostle  lays 
upon  the  holy,  humble,  self-denying,  afiectionate  spirit  of  Christianity,  in  1  Cor. 
xiii.;  how  gentle  it  is,  how  easy  to  be  entreated,  how  it  hopetli  and  endureth  all 
things,  &c.  While,  on  the  contrary,  they  who  can  speak  with  the  tongues  of 
men  and  of  angels,  who  have  all  knowledge,  who  can  work  miracles,  and  even 
die  martyrs,  would,  without  this  distinguishing  characteristic  of  Christianity,  be 
considered  of  God  as  nothing.  The  Old  Testament  dispensation,  it  is  granted, 
had  a  severe  aspect,  and  special  occasions  may  be  pleaded  for  special  expressions 
of  holy  indignation  under  any  dispensation  ;  but  when  the  prophet  describes  the 
brighter  day,  he  foretells,  that  then  "  the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,"  6lc., 
as  emblematical  of  the  prevalence  of  that  grace  described  by  the  apostle,  in  the 
chapter  just  quoted.  Hold,  therefore,  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints  as 
firmly  as  possible,  but  hold  it  in  love.  "Buy  the  truth  and  sell  it  not ;"  rather 
die  for  it,  than  part  with  it ;  but  "  speak  it  in  love  ;"  and  walk  in  it  "  as  Christ 
also  walked,"  ever  remembering,  that  "  the  wrath  of  man  worketh  not  the 
righteousness  of  God." 

1  feel  conscious  that  it  is  simply  with  a  view  to  convince  many  well  meaning 
Christians  of  their  error  (and  I  have  found  more  or  less  of  this  class  in  almost 
every  place  where  I  have  been,)  that  I  thus  speak.  If  a  gross  superstition,  arising 
in  the  Church,  perverted  the  Christianity  of  former  ages  ;  I  wish  I  may  mistake 
in  supposing,  that  a  loose  and  unscriptural  profession  is  widely  spreading  as 
the  bane  of  our  age.  Against  such  a  departure  from  the  true  genius  of  Christian- 
ity, I  certainly,  as  a  minister  of  Christ,  ought  to  bear  my  feeble  testimony.  Con- 
sider, therefore,  that  what  is  said,  is  with  a  single  view  to  your  best  interests  j 
and  the  Lord  give  you  understanding  in  all  things. 

As  I  referred  the  Christians  who  were  last  addressed,  to  the  character  of  Mr. 
N.  as  an  example,  so  I  never  knew  a  more  perfect  one  to  my  purpose.  When 
any  person  depreciated  the  ministry  of  a  good  man,  who,  by  advancing  important 
truths,  was  opposing  the  reigning  errors  of  the  times ;  but  who,  from  timidity 
or  prejudice,  was  shy  of  Mr.  N.,  he  would  imitate  his  Divine  Master  by  saying, 
*'  Let  him  alone ;  he  that  is  not  against  us  is  on  our  side.  Make  no  man  an  of- 
fender for  a  word.  He  is  doing  good,  according  to  his  views.  Let  us  pray 
for  him,  and  by  no  means  weaken  his  hands.  Who  knows  but  God  may  one  day 
put  him  far  above  our  heads  both  in  knowledge  and  usefulness?" 

His  grand  point,  in  a  few  words,  as  he  used  to  express  it,  was,  "to  break  jl 

HARD  HEART,  AXD  TO  HEAL  A  BROKEN   HEART."       To  implant   the    life  of  God    111 


76  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.    JOHN    NEWTON. 

the  soul  of  man,  he  would  sacrifice  every  subordinate  ronsideration.  He  felt  every' 
ether  consideration  ccinparatively  insignificant.  He  saw  the  spirit  of  ancient 
Pharisaism  working  among  those  who  cry  out  the  most  against  it;  who  exact 
to  a  scruple,  in  the  tytlie  of  mint,  anise,  and  cummin  of  their  own  peculiarities, 
while  they  pass  over  the  weightier  matters  of  unity  and  love  ;  straining  at  the 
gnat  of  a  private  opinion,  and  swallowing  the  camel  of  a  deadly  discord.  On  the 
contrary,  as  far  as  order  and  circumstances  w^ould  admit,  Mr.  N.  clave  to  every 
good  man,  and  endeavoured  to  strengthen  his  hands,  in  whatever  denomination 
of  Christians  he  was  found.  His  character  well  illustrated  the  Scripture,  that 
though  "  scarcely  for  a  righteous  (or  just)  man  would  one  die  ;  yet  for  a  good 
man  (i.  e.  one  eminent  for  his  candour  and  benevolence)  some  would  even  dare 
to  die."  However  they  admired  some  ministers,  they  all  loved  him;  and  saw 
exemplified  in  him  that  "  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  which  is  first  pure, 
then  peaceable,  gentle,  and  easy  to  be  intreated,  full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits 
•without  partiality  and  without  hypocrisy." 

I  conclude  these  Memoirs  with  a  word  to  such  as  are  endeavouring  to  follow 
the  steps  of  their  late  faithful  friend,  as  he  followed  Christ.  We  cannot  but  la- 
ment the  errors  just  described.  We  cannot,  if  we  have  any  zeal  for  the  gospel, 
but  protest  against  them.  But  let  us  recollect,  that  they  are  not  the  only  errors 
which  are  found  in  the  church  ;  and  therefore  let  us  watch,  lest  any  other  "root 
of  bitterness  spring  up  to  trouble  us,  and  defile  many."  While  you  lament  with 
me  the  removal  of  ministers  like  Mr.  N.,  let  us  recollect  that  Eternal  Friend, 
who  will  never  leave  his  church  without  witnesses  to  the  truth  ;  and  who,  among 
other  reasons  for  removing  earthly  helps,  teaches  us  thereby  to  rest  only  upon 
that  help  which  cannot  be  removed.  Let  us  take  comfort  too  in  recollecting, 
that,  spotted  as  the  church  may  appear  from  the  inconsistencies  of  many  of  its 
members,  yet  all  the  real  good  that  is  to  be  found  in  this  corrupt  world,  is  to  be 
found  in  that  church.  God  saw  seven  thousand  true  believers  in  Israel  while 
his  prophet  could  see  but  one.  Where  some  Jehu  is  sounding  a  trumpet  before 
him,  many  are  quietly  passing  to  heaven  without  any  such  clamour.  As  a  great 
writer  remarks,  "  Because  half  a  dozen  grasshoppers,  under  a  fern,  make  the 
field  ring  with  their  importunate  chink,  while  thousands  of  great  cattle  chew  the 
cud  and  are  silent,  pray  do  not  imagine  that  those,  who  make  the  noise,  are  '  the 
only  inhabitants  of  the  field.'  " 

But  I  must  remark,  that  nothing  has  been  more  profitable  to  myself  in  consider- 
ing Mr.  N.'s  life,  than  the  exhibition  it  makes  of  a  particular  providence.  If 
the  church  be  not  conducted  by  such  visible  signs  now,  as  formerly,  it  is  found 
to  be  as  actually  conducted.  We  read  of  a  Divine  hand  concerned  in  the  fall  of 
sparrows,  in  numbering  the  hairs  of  our  head,  and  in  raising  our  dust  to  life  ; 
but  with  what  little  interest  we  read  this,  appears  by  our  distrust  in  the  first  trial 
we  meet.  If  we  do  not  dare  to  join  the  sentiments  of  some,  who  regard  such 
expressions  as  purely  figurative  and  hyperbolical,  yet  our  imagination  is  so  over- 
whelmed with  the  dimculty  of  the  performance,  that  we  are  apt  to  turn  from  the 
subject  with  some  general  hope,  but  with  a  very  indistinct  and  vague  idea  of 
"  a  God  at  hand,"  faithful  to  his  promise,  and  almighty  to  deliver.  Yet  how 
many  cases  occur  in  the  history  of  every  one  of  us,  where  nothing  short  of  an  Al- 
mighty arm  could  prove  "  a  present  help  in  the  time  of  trouble." 

Now,  this  short  history  before  us  is  admirably  calculated  to  encourage  our  faith 
and  hope,  when  we  are  called  to  pass  through  those  deep  waters,  that  seem  to 
bid  defiance  to  human  strength  and  contrivance.  What,  for  instance,  but  a  Divine 
interference  caused  Mr.  N.  to  be  roused  from  sleep  on  board  the  Harwich  at  the 
moment  of  exchanging  men,  and  thereby  effected  his  removal  ?  What  placed  him 
in  a  situation  so  remarkably  suited  to  his  recovering  the  ship,  which  had  already 
passed  the  place  of  his  station  in  Africa,  and  brought  him  back  to  his  country  ? 
what  kept  him  from  returning  in  the  boat,  that  was  lost  at  Rio  Cestors  ?  or  from 
the  ship  that  was  blown  up  near  Liverpool  ?  not  to  mention  many  other  of  hij 
special  deliverances 


MKMOIRS    or    TlIK    RKV.   JOHN    NKWTON.  77 

"  I  am  a  uoiuKt  unto  miiny,"  says  he,  in  Iho  motto  of  his  Narrative;  and  if 
we  as  (lisliiully  consiiKTcd  the  strange  niclliods  of  nuTcy  which  havt?  orc;irrrd 
in  our  own  cases,  we  sliould  at  least  he  a  wonder  to  ours(dv(;s.  Rut  njy  aim  is 
to  point  out  the  use  we  sliould  make  of  tlu'se  Memoirs  in  this  respe<t.  Wc 
shouKl,  as  Christians,  mark  tlu'  error  of  (h'spair.  We  shouhl  see,  that  the  ra.se 
of  a  prayinc;  man  cannot  he  desperate;  that  if  a  man  h(^  out  of  tlie  pit  of  hell, 
he  is  on  the  jj;round  of  mercy.  We  sliouM  recollect,  that  (iod  sees  a  way  of 
escape  when  we  see  none  ;  that  notliinj];  is  too  liard  for  liim;  that  he  warrants  our 
dependence,  and  invites  us  to  call  on  Iiim  in  tlie  day  of  trouble,  and  pjives  a 
firomise  of  deliverance.  We  should,  therefore,  in  every  trial,  adoot  the  lan- 
guage of  JNIr.  N.'s  favourite  Herbert : 

"Away,  despair;  my  fjracious  Lord  doth  hear; 

Thouijh  wiiuls  and  waves  assault  my  keel, 

He  doth  preserve  it ;  he  doth  steer, 

Ev'n  when  the  boat  seems  most  to  reel. 

Stonns  are  the  triumph  of  his  art : 
Well  may  he  close  his  eyes,  but  not  his  heart." 

From  these  facts  we  should  see,  that  Christ  is  able,  not  only  *'  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  that  come  unto  God  by  him ;"  but  also  that  he  is  able  to  bring  the 
most  hardened  blasphemer  and  abject  slave  from  his  chains  of  sin  and  misery,  to 
«tand  in  the  most  honourable  and  useful  station,  and  proclaim  to  the  wretched 
and  to  the  ruined  the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace.  I  have  observed,  from  my 
own  experience  as  well  as  from  that  of  others,  how  strong  a  hold  Satan  builds  by- 
despair.  The  pressing  fascinations  of  the  world,  the  secret  invitations  of  sensu- 
ality, and  the  distant  prospect  of  eternal  things,  form  a  powerful  current  against 
vital  religion.  The  heart  of  a  Christian  is  ready  to  sink  whenever  these  proud 
waters  rise.  Let  him,  therefore,  recollect,  that  his  hope,  his  only  hope,  is  in 
pressing  right  onward  through  a  world  of  lies  and  vanity;  that  his  present  dis- 
pensation is  the  walk  of  faith  and  not  of  sight;  and  that  "by  two  immutable 
things,  in  which  it  is  impossible  for  God  to  lie,  he  has  given  strong  consolation 
to  such  as  flee  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set  before  them." 

One  could,  indeed,  scarcely  conjecture,  that  cases  like  Mr.  N.'s  should  be  so 
perverted  by  any  of  our  children,  as  that  they  should  take  confidence  in  their 
«ins  from  his  former  course  of  life  ;  but,  because  such  facts,  as  I  am  credibly  in- 
formed, do  exist,  let  us  be  upon  the  watch  to  counteract  this  deep  device  of  the 
great  enemy. 

My  dear  young  friends,  who  may  have  read  these  Memoirs,  perhaps  merely 
for  your  amusement,  consider  with  what  a  contrary  design  St.  Paul  states  his 
former  unrenewed  condition:  "I  was,"  says  he,  "before  a  blasphemer,  a  per- 
secutor, and  injurious;  but  for  this  cause  I  obtained  mercy."  For  what  cause  ? 
Was  it  that  men  should  continue  in  sin,  because  a  miracle  of  special  grace  had 
been  wrought?  To  "  do  evil  that  good  may  come"  is  the  black  mark  of  a  repro- 
bate mind.  But  "  for  this  cause,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  I  obtained  mercy;  that 
m  me  first  Jesus  Christ  might  show  forth  all  long-suffering,  for  a  pattern  to  them 
who  should  hereafter  believe  in  him  to  life  everlasting."  The  same  caution  is 
necessary  whenever  you  may  be  tempted  to  hope  for  such  a  recovery  as  Mr.  N.'s, 
after  erring  like  him.  To  proceed  upon  such  a  hope,  is  a  gross  presumption. 
Thousands  perish  in  wrong  courses,  for  one  who  escapes  from  their  natural  con- 
sequences. Pray,  therefore,  that  you  may  be  enabled  to  resist  the  temptation 
of  perverting  such  extraordinary  cases.  God  affords  them  to  be  "a  savour  of 
life  unto  life,"  while  Satan  would  employ  them  to  be  "a  savour  of  death  unto 
death."  One  almighty  to  save,  affords  you  here,  indeed,  an  instance  of  special 
mercy,  which  gives  you  the  strongest  encouragement  in  setting  your  face  towards 
his  kingdom;  and  this  is  the  proper  use  to  be  made  of  such  a  case. 

Your  parents,  your  most  disinterested  friends,  are  anxiously  watching  for  your 


78  MEMOIRS    OF    THE    REV.  JOHN    NEWTON. 

fjood  :  and  they,  perhaps,  liave  put  this  book  into  your  hand  with  a  view  of  pro- 
moting it.  The  author  has  cause  to  thank  God,  who  put  it  into  the  lieart  of"  his 
pious  parent  to  make  a  similar  attempt,  and  bless  it  with  success;  and  he  could 
tell  of  more  such  instances.  May  it  please  God  that  you  may  be  added  to  the 
number  !  Worldly  prosperity  would  rather  hurt  than  help  you  before  your  minds 
become  rightly  directed.  Mr.  N.  shows  us,*  that  his  firmest  friend  could  not  have 
served  him  effectually  had  not  God  first  prepared  his  mind  for  the  advancement. 
An  enemy  would  occupy  your  minds  with  perishing  objects;  but  God  calls  you 
to  cultivate  nobler  views.  He  proposes  glory,  honour,  immortality,  and  eternal 
life  by  the  gospel.  ''Seek,"  therefore,  "  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righ- 
teousness and  all  other  things  shall  be  added  to  you." 

•  Memoirs,  page  26. 


AN 


AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE,  &c, 


LETTER  I. 


REVEREVD  AND  DEAR  SIR, 

I  MAKE  no  doubt  but  yon  have  at  times 
had  pleading  reflections  upon  that  promise 
made  to  the  Israelites,  Deut.  viii.  2.  They 
were  then  in  the  wilderness,  surrounded 
with  difficulties,  wiiich  were  greatly  agijra- 
vated  by  their  own  distrust  and  perverscness : 
they  had  experienced  a  variety  of  dispensa- 
tions, the  desig-n  of  which  they  could  not  as 
yet  understand  ;  they  fr*^quently  lost  sight  of 
God's  gracious  purposes  in  tlieir  favour,  and 
wero  nmch  discouraged  by  reason  of  the  way. 
To  compose  and  animate  their  minds,  JMoscs 
hero  suggests  to  them,  that  there  was  a  fu- 
ture happy  time  drawing  near,  when  their 
journey  and  warfare  should  be  finished  ;  that 
Ihey  should  soon  be  put  in  possession  of  the 
promised  land,  and  have  rest  from  all  their 
fears  and  troubles ;  and  then  it  would  give 
them  pleasure  to  look  back  upon  what  they 
now  found  so  uneasy  to  bear : — "  Thou  shalt 
remember  all  the  way,  by  which  the  Lord 
thy  God  led  thee  through  this  wilderness." 

But  the  importance  and  comfort  of  these 
words  is  still  greater,  if  we  consider  them 
in  a  spiritual  sense,  as  addressed  to  all  wiio 
are  passuig  through  the  wilderness  of  this 
world  to  a  heavenly  Canaan ;  who  by  faith 
in  the  promises  and  power  of  God  are  seek- 
ing eternal  rest  in  that  kingdom  which  can- 
not bo  shaken.  The  hope  of  that  glorious 
inheritance  inspires  us  with  some  degree  of 
courage  and  zeal  to  press  forward,  to  where 
Jesus  has  already  entered  as  our  forerunner ; 
and  when  our  eye  is  fixed  upon  him,  we  are 
more  than  conquerors  over  all  that  would 
withstand  our  progress.  But  we  have  not  ] 
yet  attained  it ;  we  still  feel  the  infirmities 
of  a  fallen  nature :  through  the  remains  of 
ignorance  and  unbelief,  we  often  mistake  the 
Lord's  dealings  with  us,  and  are  ready  to 
complain,  when,  if  we  knew  all,  we  should 
rather  rejoice.  But  to  us  likewise  there  is 
a  time  coming,  when  our  warfare  shall  be 
accomplished,  our  views  enlarged,  and  our 
-ight  increased :  then,  with  what  transports 
of  axloration  and  love  shall  we  look  back  ; 
wpon  the  way,  by  which  the  Lord  led  us  1 1 


We  shall  then  see  and  acknowledge,  that 
mercy  and  goodness  directed  every  step; 
we  shall  see,  that  what  our  ignorance  once 
called  adversities  and  evils,  Vv'crc  in  reality 
blessings  which  we  could  not  liavc  done 
well  without ;  that  notiiing  befel  us  witijout  a 
cause:  that  no  trouble  came  upon  us  sorner, 
or  pressed  us  more  heavily,  or  continued 
longer,  than  our  case  required :  in  a  word, 
that  our  many  afflictions  were  each  in  their 
place  among  the  means  employed  by  divine 
grace  and  wisdom,  to  bring  us  to  the  posses- 
sion of  that  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory,  which  the  Lord  has  prepared  for  his 
people.  And  even  in  this  imperfect  state, 
though  we  arc  seldom  able  to  judge  aright 
of  our  present  circumstances,  yet,  if  we  look 
upon  the  years  of  our  past  life,  and  compare 
the  dispensations  we  have  been  brought 
through,  with  the  frame  of  our  minds  under 
each  successive  period ;  if  we  consider,  how 
wonderfully  one  thing  has  been  connected 
with  another ;  so  that  what  we  now  number 
amongst  our  greatest  advantages,  perhaps 
took  their  first  rise  from  incidents  which  we 
thought  hardly  worth  our  notice ;  and  that 
we  have  sometimes  escaped  the  greatest  dan- 
gers that  threatened  us,  not  by  any  wisdom 
or  foresight  of  our  own,  but  by  the  interven- 
tion of  circumstances,  which  we  neither  de- 
sired nor  thought  of ; — I  say,  when  we  com- 
pare and  consider  these  things  by  the  light 
afforded  us  in  the  holy  scriptures,  we  may 
collect  mdisputable  proof,  from  the  narrow 
circle  of  our  own  concerns,  that  the  wise  and 
good  providience  of  God  watches  over  his 
people  from  the  earliest  moment  of  their 
life,  overrules  and  guards  them  tlirough  all 
their  wanderings  in  a  state  of  ignorance,  leads 
them  in  a  way  they  know  not,  till  at  length 
his  providence  and  grace  concur  in  those 
events  and  impressions,  wliich  bring  them  to 
the  knowledge  of  him  and  themselves. 

I  am  persuaded  that  every  believor  will, 
upon  due  reflection,  see  enough  in  his  own 
case  to  confirm  this  remark ;  but  net  all  m 
the  same  degree.  The  outward  circum- 
stances of  many  have  been  uniform;  they 

79 


80 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 


have  known  but  little  variety  in  life;  and 
with  respect  to  tlieir  inward  chancre,  it  has 
been  effected  in  a  secret  way,  unnoticed  by 
others,  and  almost  unperceived  by  them- 
selves. The  Lord  has  spoken  to  tiicm,  not 
in  thunder  and  tempest,  but  with  a  still  small 
voice  he  has  drawn  them  gradually  to  him- 
self; so  that,  thouo^h  they  have  a  happy  as- 
surance of  the  thins;,  tliat  they  know  and 
love  him,  and  are  passed  from  death  unto  life  ; 
yet  of  the  precise  time  and  manner,  they 
can  give  little  {;ccount.  Others  he  seems 
to  select,  in  order  to  show  the  exceeding- 
riches  of  his  grace,  and  the  greatness  of  his 
mighty  power :  he  suffers  the  natural  rebel- 
lion and  wickedness  of  their  hearts  to  have 
full  scope ;  while  sinners  of  less  note  are  cut 
off  with  little  warning,  these  are  spared, 
though  sinning  with  a  high  hand,  and,  as  it 
were,  studying  their  own  destruction.  At 
length,  when  all  that  knew  them  are  perhaps 
expecting  to  hear,  that  they  are  made  signal 
instances  of  divine  vengeance,  the  Lord 
(whose  thoughts  are  high  above  ours,  as  the 
heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth)  is  pleased 
to  pluck  them  as  brands  out  of  the  fire,  and 
to  make  them  monuments  of  his  mercy,  for 
the  encouragement  of  others ;  they  are,  be- 
yond expectation,  convinced,  pardoned,  and 
changed.  A  case  of  this  sort  indicates  a  di- 
vine power  no  less  than  the  creation  of  a 
world :  and  it  is  evidently  the  Lord's  doing, 
and  it  is  marvellous  in  the  eyes  of  all  those, 
who  are  not  blinded  by  prejudice  and  unbelief. 

Such  was  the  persecuting  Saul :  his  heart 
was  full  of  enmity  against  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
and  therefore  he  persecuted  and  made  havoc 
of  his  disciples.  He  had  been  a  terror  to 
the  church  of  Jerusalem,  and  was  going  to 
Damascus  with  the  same  views.  He  was 
yet  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaughter 
against  all  that  loved  the  Ix)rd  Jesus.  He 
thought  little  of  the  mischief  he  had  hitherto 
done.  He  was  engaged  for  the  suppression 
of  the  whole  sect ;  and  hurrying  from  house 
to  house,  from  place  to  place,  he  carried  me- 
naces in  his  look,  and  repeated  threatenings 
with  every  breath.  Such  was  his  spirit  and 
temper,  when  the  Lord  Jesus,  whom  he  hated 
and  opposed,  checked  him  in  the  height  of 
his  rage,  called  this  bitter  persecutor  to  the 
honour  of  an  apostle,  and  inspired  him  with 
great  zeal  and  earnestness,  to  preach  that 
faith  which  he  had  so  lately  attempted  to  de- 
stroy. 

Nor  are  we  without  remarkable  displays 
of  the  same  sovereign,  efficacious  grace  in  our 
own  times; — I  may  particularly  mention  the 
instance  of  the  late  colonel  (lardiner.  If 
any  real  satisfaction  could  be  found  in  a  sin- 
fa!  course,  he  would  have  met  with  it ;  for  he 
pursued  the  experiment  with  all  possible  ad- 
vantages. He  WIS  habituated  to  evil;  and 
many  uncommon,  almost  miraculous  deliver- 
ances, made  no  impression  upon  him.     Yet 


[let.  I. 


he  was  likewise  made  willing  in  the  day  of 
(lod's  power:  and  the  bright  example  of  his 
life,  illustrated  and  diff\ised  by  the  account 
of  him,  published  since  his  death,  has  aflbrd- 
ed  an  occasion  of  much  praise  to  God  and 
much  comfort  to  his  people. 

After  the  mention  of  such  names,  can  you 
permit  me.  Sir,  to  add  my  own  ]  If  I  do,  it 
must  be  with  a  very  humbling  distinction. 
'J'hese  once  eminent  sinners,  proved  sincere 
Christians:  much  had  been  forgiven  them, 
therefore  they  loved  much.  St.  Paul  could 
say,  "  The  grace  bestowed  upon  me  was  not 
in  vain ;  for  I  laboured  more  abundantly  than 
they  all."  Colonel  Gardiner  likewise  was  as 
a  city  set  upon  a  hill,  a  burning  and  a  shining 
light :  the  manner  of  his  conversion  waa 
hardly  more  singular,  than  the  whole  course 
of  his  conversation  from  that  time  to  his 
death.  Here,  alas  !  the  parallel  greatly  fails. 
It  has  not  been  thus  with  me ; — I  must  take 
deserved  shame  to  myself,  that  I  have  made 
very  unsuitable  returns  for  what  I  have  re- 
ceived. But,  if  the  question  is  only  concern- 
ing the  patience  and  long-suffering  of  God, 
the  wonderful  interposition  of  his  providence 
in  favour  of  an  unworthy  sinner,  the  power 
of  his  grace  in  softening  the  hardest  heart, 
and  the  riches  of  his  mercy  in  pardoning  the 
most  enormous  and  aggravated  transgres- 
sions ;  in  these  respects,  I  know  no  case  more 
extraordinary  than  my  own.  And  indeed 
many  persons,  to  whom  I  have  related  my 
story,  have  thought  it  worthy  of  being  pre- 
served. 

I  never  gave  any  succinct  account  in  writ- 
ing, of  the  Lord's  dealing  with  me,  till  very 
lately ;  for  I  was  deterred,  on  the  one  hand, 
by  the  great  difficulty  of  writing  properly 
where  self  is  concerned  ;  on  the  other,  by  the 
ill  use  which  persons  of  corrupt  and  perverse 
minds  are  often  known  to  make  of  such  in- 
stances. The  Psalmist  reminds  us  that  a  re- 
serve in  these  things  is  proper,  when  he  says, 
"  Come  unto  me,  all  you  that  fear  God,  and 
I  will  tell  you  what  he  hath  done  for  my 
soul ;"  and  our  Lord  cautions  us  not  to  "  cast 
our  pearls  before  swine."  The  pearls  of  a 
Christian  are,  perhaps,  his  choice  experiences 
of  the  Lord's  power  and  love  in  the  concerns 
of  his  soul ;  and  these  should  not  be  at  all 
adventures  made  public,  lest  we  give  occa- 
sion to  earthly  and  grovelling  souls,  to  pro- 
fane what  they  cannot  understand.  These 
were  the  chief  reasons  of  my  backwardness: 
but,  a  few  weeks  since,  I  yielded  to  the  judg- 
ment and  request  of  a  much  respected  friend, 
and  sent  him  a  relation  at  large,  in  a  series 
of  eight  letters.  The  event  has  been  what 
I  little  expected ;  I  wrote  to  one  person,  but 
my  letters  have  fallen  into  many  hands: 
amongst  others,  I  find  they  have  reached 
j  your  notice ;  and  instead  of  blaming  me  for 
I  being  too  tedious  and  circumstantial,  which 
>  was  tlie  fault  I  feared  I  had  committed,  you 


I.I  r.  II.] 


OCCURRENCES  IN  EARLY  LIFR 


81 


arr  j>I.'  i-(<(l  to  dosiro  a  still  more  distinct  dc- 
I  tail.     As  you  and  othors  of  my  friends  nppro- 

I  hend  my  complianct!  willi  llils  rciiin'st  may 

be  iitttMuleil  with  som**  jjikkI  t'tirct,  may  pro- 
mote Uie  plCv-uiinLT  work  ofpraiso  to  our  ador- 
able Redeemer,  to  confirm  the  faith  of  st>ine 
or  other  of  his  i)eople,  1  am  willin<x  to  oh(»y ; 
1  jjive  up  my  own  r«*asonin;,'s  u|K)n  the  inex- 
pediency of  so  inconsiiU'rahh"  a  person  vlh  my- 
self ad  venturini^  in  yo  puhlic  a  point  of  view. 
If  God  may  be  «jlori(ied  on  my  behalf,  and 
his  children  in  any  ineiisure  comforted  or  in- 
structed by  what  I  liavc  to  declare  of  his 
foulness,  1  shall  be  satisfied;  and  am  con- 
tent to  leave  all  other  possible  consequences 
of  this  undertaking'  in  his  hands,  wiio  does 
all  thinjrs  well. 

1  must  aijain  have  recourse  to  my  memory, 
as  I  retained  no  copies  of  tiie  letters  you  saw. 
So  far  as  I  can  recollect  what  I  then  wrote, 
I  will  relate,  but  shall  not  affect  a  needless 
variety  of  phrase  and  manner,  merely  be- 
cause those  have  been  already  perused  by 
many.  I  may  perhaps,  in  some  places,  when 
repeating  the  same  facts,  express  myself  in 
nearly  the  same  words;  yet  I  propose,  ac- 
cordinjT  to  your  desire,  to  make  this  relation 
more  explicit  and  particular  than  the  former, 
especially  towards  the  close,  which  I  wound 
up  hastily,  lest  my  friend  should  be  wearied. 
I  hope  you  will  likewise  excuse  me,  if  I  do 
not  strictly  confine  myself  to  narration,  but 
now  and  tlien  intersperse  such  reflections  as 
may  offer,  while  I  am  writing- :  and  tlioug-h 
you  have  signified  your  intentions  of  com- 
municating' what  I  send  you  to  others,  I  must 
not,  on  this  account^  affect  a  conciseness  and 
correctness  which  is  not  my  natural  talent, 
lest  the  whole  should  appear  dry  and  con- 
strained. I  shall  therefore  (if  possible)  think 
only  of  you,  and  write  with  that  confidence 
and  freedom  which  your  friendship  and  can- 
dour deserve.  This  sheet  may  stand  as  a 
preface,  and  I  purpose,  as  far  as  I  can,  to  in- 
termit many  other  engagements,  until  I  have 
completed  the  task  you  have  assigned  me. 
In  tne  mean  time,  I  entreat  the  assistance  of 
your  prayers,  that  in  this,  and  all  my  poor 
attempts,  I  may  have  a  single  eye  to  his 
glory,  wlio  was  pleased  to  call  me  out  of 
horrid  darkness,  into  the  marvellous  light  of 
his  gospel. — I  am,  with  sincere  respect,  dear 
sir,  vour  obliged  and  affectionate  servant. 
January  12,  1763. 


'    LETTER  II. 

REVERE>fD  SIR, — T  Can  sometimes  feel  a 
pleasure  in  repeating  the  grateful  acknow- 
ledgment of  David,  "  O  Lord,  I  am  thy  ser- 
vant, the  son  of  thin?  handmaid;  thou  hast 
loosed  my  ban  Is."  The  tenJer  mercies  of 
God  towards  me  were  manifest  in  tlie  first 


moment  of  my  life ; — I  was  bom  nn  it  were 

in  his  jioiise,  and  dedicated  to  him  in  my  in* 
I'ancy.  My  mother  {na  i  have  heard  from 
many)  wa.s  a  pious  exjMjricnciMl  Chri.-tian; 
slu;  was  a  dis.srnl«'r,  in  communion  with  tho 
late  Doctor  Jennings.  I  was  hrr  only  <-hild ; 
and  a.s  she  was  ol'a  weak  constitution  and  a 
retired  tcMnpcr,  almost  her  whole  employ- 
ment was  the  care  of  my  education.  1  have 
stinu!  faint  remembnmce  of  her  care  and  in- 
structions. At  a  time  when  I  could  not  be 
more  than  three  years  of  age,  bhe  iierself 
taught  me  English,  and  with  so  much  suc- 
cess (as  I  had  something  of  a  forward  turn,) 
tiiat  when  I  was  four  years  old  I  could  read 
with  propriety,  in  any  common  book  that  of- 
fered. She  stored  my  memory,  which  was 
then  very  retentive,  with  many  valuable 
pieces,  chapters,  and  portions  of  scripture, 
catechisms,  hymns  and  poems.  My  temper, 
at  that  time  seemed  quite  suitable  to  her 
wishes:  I  had  little  inclination  to  tlie  noisy 
sports  of  children,  but  was  best  pleased  when 
in  her  company,  and  always  as  willing  to 
learn  as  she  was  to  teach  me.  How  far  the 
best  education  may  fall  short  of  reaching  the 
heart,  will  strongly  appear  in  the  sequel  of 
my  history:  yet,  I  think,  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  pious  parents  to  go  on  in  the  good 
way  of  doing  their  part  faithfully  to  form 
their  cliildren's  minds,  I  may  properly  pro- 
pose myself  as  an  instance.  Though  in  pro- 
cess of  time,  I  sinned  away  all  the  advantages 
of  these  early  impressions,  yet  they  were  for 
a  great  while  a  restraint  upon  me ;  they  re- 
turned again  and  again,  and  it  was  very  long 
before  I  could  wholly  shake  them  off";  and 
when  the  Lord  at  length  opened  my  eyes,  I 
found  a  great  benefit  from  the  recollection 
of  them.  Further,  my  dear  mother,  besides 
the  pains  she  took  with  me,  often  commend- 
ded  me  with  many  prayers  and  tears  to  God ; 
and  I  doubt  not  but  I  reap  the  fruits  of  these 
prayers  to  this  hour. 

My  mother  observed  my  early  progress 
with  peculiar  pleasure,  and  intended  from 
the  first  to  bring  me  up  with  a  view  to  the 
ministry,  if  the  Lord  should  so  incline  my 
heart.  In  my  sixth  year  I  began  to  learn 
Latin ;  but,  before  I  had  time  to  know  much 
about  it,  the  intended  plan  of  my  education 
was  broke  short. — The  Lord's  designs  were 
far  beyond  the  views  of  an  earthly  parent ;  he 
was  pleased  to  reserve  me  for  an  unusual  proof 
of  his  patience,  providence,  and  grace,  and 
therefore  overruled  the  purpose  of  my  friends, 
by  depriving  me  of  this  excellent  parent, 
when  I  was  something  under  seven  years 
old.  I  w^as  born  the  24th  of  July,  1725,  and 
she  died  the  11th  of  that  month,  1732. 

IMy  father  was  then  at  sea  (he  was  a  com- 
mander in  the  Mediterranean  trade  at  that 
time:)  he  came  home  the  following  year, 
and  soon  after  married  again.  Thus  I  pass- 
ed into  different  hands.     I  was  well  treated 


S2 


OCCURRENCES  IN  EARLY  LIFE. 


[let.  II. 


in  all  other  respects ;  but  the  loss  of  my  mo- 
tlicr's  instructions  was  not  repaired.  I  was 
now  permitted  to  niin<rlc  with  careless  and 
profane  children,  and  soon  botran  to  learn 
their  ways.  S(X)n  after  my  father's  marriat^e 
I  was  sent  to  a  boarding  scliool  in  Essex, 
■where  tlie  imprudent  severity  of  the  master 
almost  broke  my  spirit  and  relisli  for  books. 
With  him  I  forgot  the  first  principles  and 
rules  of  arithtnetic,  which  my  mother  had 
taught  me  years  before.  I  staid  there  two 
years ;  in  the  last  of  the  two  a  new  usher 
coming,  who  observed  and  studied  my  temper, 
I  took  to  tlie  Latin  with  great  eagerness ;  so 
tliat  before  I  was  ten  years  old,  I  readied 
and  maintained  the  first  post  in  the  second 
class,  which  in  that  school  read  Tully  and 
Virgil.  I  believe  I  was  pushed  forward  too 
fast,  and  therefore  not  being  grounded,  I  soon 
lost  all  I  had  learned  (for  1  left  school  in  my 
tenth  year,)  and  when  I  long  afterwards  un- 
dertook the  Ijatin  language  from  books,  I 
think  I  had  little,  if  any  advantage,  from 
what  I  had  learned  before. 

My  father's  second  marriage  was  from  a 
family  in  Essex;  and  when  I  was  eleven 
years  old,  he  took  me  with  him  to  sea.  He 
was  a  man  of  remarkable  good  sense,  and 
great  knowledge  of  the  world ;  he  took  great 
care  of  my  morals,  but  could  not  supply 
my  mother's  part.  Having  been  educated 
himself  in  Spain,  he  always  observed  an  air 
of  distance  and  severity  in  his  carriage, 
which  overawed  and  discouraged  my  spirit. 
I  was  always  in  fear  when  before  him,  and 
therefore  he  had  the  less  influence.  From 
that  time  to  the  year  1742,  I  made  several 
voyages,  but  with  considerable  intervals  be- 
tween, which  were  chiefly  spent  in  the 
country,  excepting  a  few  months  in  my  fif- 
teenth year,  when  I  was  placed  upon  a  very 
advantageous  prospect  at  Alicant  in  Spain ; 
but  my  unsettled  behaviour  and  impatience 
of  restraint  rendered  that  design  abortive. 

In  this  period  my  temper  and  conduct 
were  exceedingly  various.  At  school,  or 
soon  after,  I  had  little  concern  about  reli- 
gion, and  easily  received  very  ill  impressions. 
But  I  was  often  disturbed  with  convictions ; 
I  was  fond  of  reading  from  a  child ;  among 
other  books,  Bennet's  Christian  Oratory  often 
came  in  my  way ;  and  though  I  understood  but 
little  of  it,  the  course  of  life  therein  recom- 
mended appeared  very  desirable,  and  I  was 
inclined  to  attempt  it.  I  began  to  pray,  to 
read  the  scriptures,  and  to  keep  a  sort  of 
diary  ;  I  was  presently  religious  is  my  own 
eyes;  but  alas!  this  seeming  goodness  hSd 
no  solid  foundation,  but  passed  away  like  a 
morning  cloud,  or  early  dew.  I  was  soon 
weary,  gradually  gave  it  up,  and  became 
worse  than  before :  instead  of  prayer,  I 
learned  to  curse  and  blaspheme,  and  was  ex- 
ceedingly wicked,  wiien  from  under  my 
parents'  view.     All  tliis  was  before  I  was 


twelve  years  old.  About  that  time  I  had  a 
dangerous  fall  from  a  horse ;  I  was  thrown, 
I  believe,  witiiin  a  few  inches  of  a  hedge-row 
newly  cut  down;  I  got  no  hurt;  but  could 
not  avoid  taking  notice  of  a  gracious  provi- 
dence in  my  deliverance ;  for  had  I  fallen 
upon  the  stakes,  I  had  inevitably  been  killed ; 
my  conscience  suggested  to  me  the  dreadful 
consequences,  if  in  such  a  state  I  had  been 
summoned  to  appear  before  God.  I  presently 
broke  off*  from  rny  profane  practices,  and  ap- 
peared quite  altered  ;  but  was  not  long  before 
I  declined  again.  These  struggles  between 
sin  and  conscience  were  often  repeated ;  but 
the  consequence  was,  that  every  relapse 
sunk  me  into  still  greater  depths  of  wicked- 
ness. I  was  once  roused  by  the  loss  of  an 
intimate  companion.  We  had  agreed  to  go  on 
board  a  man-of-war  (I  think  it  was  on  Sun- 
day,) but  I  providentially  came  too  late ;  the 
boat  was  overset,  and  he  and  several  others 
were  drowned.  I  was  invited  to  the  funeral 
of  my  play-fellow,  and  was  exceedingly  af- 
fected, to  think  that  by  a  delay  of  a  few 
minutes  (which  had  much  displeased  and 
angered  me  till  I  saw  the  event,)  my  life 
had  been  preserved.  However,  this  like- 
wise was  soon  forgot.  At  another  time, 
the  perusal  of  the  Family  Instructor  put  me 
upon  a  partial  and  transient  reformation.  In 
brief,  though  I  cannot  distinctly  relate  par- 
ticulars, I  think  I  took  up  and  laid  aside  a 
religious  profession  three  or  four  different 
times  before  I  was  sixteen  years  of  age ;  but 
•  all  this  while  my  heart  was  insincere.  I  of- 
ten saw  a  necessity  of  religion  as  a  means 
of  escaping  hell ;  but  I  loved  sin,  and  was 
unwilling  to  forsake  it.  Instances  of  this,  I 
can  remember,  were  frequent  in  the  midst 
of  all  my  forms ;  I  was  so  strangely  blind 
and  stupid,  that  sometimes  when  I  have  been 
determined  upon  things  which  I  knew  were 
sinful  and  contrary  to  my  duty,  I  could  not 
go  on  quietly,  till  1  had  first  despatched  my 
ordinary  task  of  prayer,  in  which  I  have 
grudged  every  moment  of  rny  time ;  and 
when  this  was  finished,  my  conscience  was 
in  some  measure  pacified,  and  I  could  rush 
into  folly  with  little  remorse. 

My  last  reform  was  the  most  remarkable 
both  for  degree  and  continuance.  Of  this 
period,  at  least  of  some  part  of  it,  I  may  say, 
in  the  apostle's  words,  "  After  the  strictest 
sect  of  our  religion,  I  lived  a  pharisee."  I 
did  every  thing  that  might  be  expected  from 
a  person  entirely  ignorant  of  God's  righte- 
ousness, and  desirous  to  establish  his  own. 
I  spent  the  greatest  part  of  every  day  in 
reading  the  scriptures,  meditation  and  pray- 
er ;  I  festcd  often ;  I  even  abstained  from  all 
animal  food  for  three  months ;  I  would  hardly 
answer  a  question  for  fear  of  speaking  an  idle 
word.  I  seemed  to  bemoan  my  former  miscar- 
riages very  earnestly,  sometimes  with  tears. 
In  short  I  became  an  ascetic,  and  endeavouredi 


Lrr.  hi] 


JOURNEY  TO  KENT,  dic. 


H.'i 


80  far  as  my  situation  would  permit,  to  re- 
nounce s(K*i('ty,  thtit  I  inifjht  avoid  tt'inptn- 
tion.  I  amtiiiiH'd  in  this  M'riims  iikkkI  (I  can- 
not rr'wo  it  a  liitrluT  titl<')  fltp  luorc  than  two 
yoars,  without  any  consiihTuhh'  hrcaknuT  <><^' 
But  it  was  a  |KH)r  r(*li<rion  ;  it  U'll  nu*  ni  nmny 
respects  under  th»«  |H)W«*r  of  sin,  and  so  far 
as  it  prevailed,  oidy  toiuk^d  to  make  me 
gloomy,  stupid,  unscx'iabU*,  and  useless. 

Such  was  the  frame  ol'  my  mind,  when  I 
became  ac(|uainted  with  Lord  Shall (^shury. 
I  saw  the  second  volume  of  his  (characteris- 
tics in  a  petty  shop  at  Middlehurj.'-h  in  Hol- 
land. The  title  allured  \no  to  buy  it,  and 
the  style  and  manner  (fJive  me  n^reat  plea- 
sure in  readin«jf,  especially  the  second  piece, 
which  his  lordship,  with  unreal  propriety,  has 
entitled  a  Rhapsmly.  Nothinir  could  he  more 
suited  to  the  romantic  turn  of  my  mind,  than 
the  address  of  this  j)omix)us  declamation;  of 
the  desifrn  and  tendency  I  was  not  aware ; 
I  thounfht  the  author  a  most  relifjious  person, 
and  that  I  had  only  to  follow  him,  and  be 
happy.  Thus  with  fine  words  and  fair 
speeclies  my  simple  heart  was  betruilcd. 
This  book  was  always  in  my  hand ;  I  read  it 
till  I  could  very  nearly  repeat  the  Rhapsody 
verbatun  from  ben[-innin«'  to  end.  iVo  imme- 
diate effect  followed,  but  it  operated  like  a 
slow  poison,  and  prepared  the  way  for  all 
that  followed. 

This  letter  brmsfs  my  history  down  to  De- 
cember, 174^3.  I  was  tlien  lately  returned 
from  a  voyage,  and  my  father  not  intending 
me  for  the  sea  again,  was  thinking  how  to 
settle  me  in  the  world ;  but  I  had  little  life 
or  spirit  for  business :  I  knew  but  little  of 
men  or  things.  I  was  fond  of  a  visionary 
scheme  of  contemplative  life ;  a  medley  of 
religion,  philosophy,  and  indolence;  and  was 
quite  averse  to  the  thoughts  of  an  industrious 
application  to  business.  At  length  a  mer- 
chant in  Liverpool,  an  intimate  friend  of  my 
father  (to  whom,  as  the  instrument  of  God's 
goodness,  I  have  since  been  chiefly  indebted 
for  all  my  earthly  comforts,)  proposed  to  send 
me  lor  some  years  to  Jamaica,  and  to  charge 
himself  with  the  care  of  my  future  fortune. 
I  consented  to  this,  and  every  thing  was  pre- 
pared for  my  voyage,  I  was  upon  the  point 
of  setting  out  the  following  week.  In  the 
meantime,  my  father  sent  me  on  some  busi- 
ness to  a  place  a  few  miles  beyond  Maid- 
stone in  Kent;  and  this  little  journey,  which 
was  to  have  been  only  for  three  or  four  days, 
occasioned  a  sudden  and  remarkable  turn, 
which  roused  me  from  the  habitual  indolence 
I  had  contracted,  and  gave  rise  to  the  series 
of  uncommon  dispensations,  of  w'hich  you 
desire  a  more  particular  account.  So  true 
it  is,  "that  the  way  of  man  is  not  in  himself; 
it  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his 
steps." — I  am  affectionately  your's  in  the 
best  bonds. 

January  13,  1763. 


LETTER  1 1  r. 


i)i:ak  miu, — A  f«'w  dayH  before  njy  intend' 
»'d  jouriu'y  into  Krnt,  1  rccnived  an  invita- 
tion to  visit  a  family  in  that  county.  'I'ht-y 
were  di.sUint  ndations,  but  very  intimate 
fri«Mids  of  my  dear  moth<r:  she  died  in  their 
hous(>;  but  a  c(H)ln('ss  Uxjk  place  uprjn  my 
father's  second  marriage,  and  I  iiad  heard 
nothing  of  them  for  many  years.  As  my 
road  lay  within  half  a  mile  of  tlieir  house,  I 
obtiiined  my  father's  leave  to  call  on  them. 
I  was,  however,  very  indiderent  about  it,  and 
sometimes  thought  of  passing  on :  however  I 
went.  I  was  known  at  first  sight,  before  I 
could  tell  my  name,  and  met  with  the  kind- 
est reception,  as  the  child  of  a  dear  deceased 
friend.  My  friends  had  two  daughters. 
The  eldest  (as  I  understood  some  years 
afterwards)  had  been  often  considered,  by 
her  mother  and  nunc,  as  a  future  wife  lor 
me  from  the  time  of  licr  birth.  I  know  in- 
deed, that  intimate  friends  frequently  amuse 
themselves  with  such  distant  prospects  for 
their  children,  and  that  they  miscarry  much 
otlener  than  succeed.  I  do  not  say  that  my 
mother  predicted  what  was  to  happen,  yet 
there  was  something  remarkable  in  the  man- 
ner of  its  taking  place.  All  intercourse  be- 
tween the  families  had  been  long  broken  off; 
I  was  going  into  a  foreign  country,  and  only 
called  to  pay  a  hasty  visit;  and  this  I  should 
not  have  thought  of,  but  for  a  message  re- 
ceived just  at  that  crisis  (tor  I  had  not  been 
invited  at  any  time  before.)  Thus  the  cir- 
cumstances were  precarious  in  the  highest 
degree,  and  the  event  was  as  extraordinary. 
Almost  at  the  first  sight  of  this  girl  (for  she 
was  then  under  fourteen,)  I  was  impressed 
with  an  affection  for  her,  which  never  abated 
or  lost  its  influence  a  single  moment  in  my 
heart  from  that  hour.  In  degree,  it  actually 
equalled  all  that  the  writers  of  romance  have 
imaged ;  in  duration,  it  was  unalterable.  I 
soon  lost  all  sense  of  religion,  and  became 
deaf  to  the  remonstrances  of  conscience  and 
prudence ;  but  my  regard  for  her  was  always 
the  same ;  and  I  may  perhaps  venture  to  say, 
that  none  of  the  scenes  of  misery  and  wick- 
edness I  afterwards  experienced,  ever  ban- 
ished her  a  single  hour  together  from  my 
waking  thoughts,  for  the  seven  following 
years. 

Give  me  leave,  Sir,  to  reflect  a  little  upon 
this  unexpected  incident,  and  to  consider 
its  influence  upon  ray  future  life,  and  how 
far  it  was  subservient  to  the  views  of  divine 
providence  concerning  me,  which  seem  to 
have  been  twofold ;  that  by  being  given  up, 
for  awhile,  to  the  consequences  of  own  wil- 
fulness, and  afterwards  reclaimed  by  a  high 
hand,  my  case,  so  far  as  it  should  be  known, 
might  be  both  a  warning  and  an  encourage, 
ment  to  others. 

In  the  first  place,  hardly  any  thing  less 


7J 


84 


JOURNEY  TO  KENT,  AND 


[let.  III. 


than  this  violent  and  commanding  passion 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  awaken  nio 
from  the  dull  melancholy  habit  1  had  co:i- 
tractcd.  I  was  alruost  a  misantlirope,  notwith- 
standing I  so  much  admired  the  pictures  of 
virtue  and  benevolence  as  drawn  by  lord 
Shaftesbury :  but  now  my  reluctance  to  ac- 
t.ve  life  was  overiX)wered  at  once,  and  I  was 
willing  to  be  or  to  do  any  thing,  which  might 
subserve  the  accomplishment  of  my  wishes 
at  some  future  time. 

Farther,  when  I  afterwards  made  ship- 
wreck of  faith,  hope,  and  conscience,  my 
love  to  this  person  was  the  only  remaining 
principle,  which  in  any  degree  supplied  tbeir 
place;  and  the  bare  possibility  of  seeing  her 
again  was  the  only  present  and  obvious 
means  of  restraining  me  from  the  most  hor- 
rid designs  against  myself  and  others. 

But  tlien  the  ill  effects  it  brought  upon 
me  counterbalanced  these  advantages.  The 
interval,  usually  styled  the  time  of  courtship, 
is  indeed  a  pleasing  part  of  life,  where  there 
is  a  mutual  afli^ction,  the  consent  of  friends,  a 
reasonable  prospect  as  to  settlement,  and  the 
whole  is  conducted  in  a  prudential  manner, 
and  in  subordination  to  the  will  and  fear  of 
God.  When  things  are  thus  situated,  it  is  a 
blessing  to  be  susceptive  of  the  tender  pas- 
sions; but  when  these  concomitants  are 
wanting,  what  we  call  love  is  the  most  tor- 
menting passion  in  itself,  and  the  most  de- 
structive in  its  consequences,  that  can  be 
named :  and  they  were  all  wanting,  in  my 
case.  I  durst  not  mention  it  to  her  friends, 
or  to  my  own,  nor  indeed  for  a  considerable 
time  to  herself,  as  I  could  make  no  propo- 
sals :  it  remained  as  a  dark  fire,  locked  up  in 
my  ovrn  breast,  which  gave  me  a  constant 
uneasiness.  By  introducing  an  idolatrous 
regard  to  a  creature,  it  greatly  weakened  my 
sense  of  religion,  and  made  farther  way  for 
the  entrance  of  infidel  principles :  *  and 
though  it  seemed  to  promise  great  things,  as 
an  incentive  to  diligence  and  activity  in  life, 
in  reality  it  performed  nothing.  I  often 
formed  mighty  projects  in  my  mind,  of  what 
I  would  willingly  do  or  suffer  for  the  sake  of 
her  I  loved;  yet,  while  I  could  have  her 
company,  I  was  incapable  of  forcing  myself 
away  to  improve  opportunities  that  offered ; 
still  less  could  it  do  in  regulating  my  man- 
ners. It  did  not  prevent  me  from  engaging 
in  a  long  train  of  excess  and  riot,  utterly  un- 
worthy the  honourable  pretensions  I  had 
formed.  And  though  through  the  wonderful 
interposition  of  divine  goodness,  the  maze  of 
my  follies  was  at  length  unravelled,  and  my 
wishes  crowned  in  such  a  manner  as  over- 
paid my  su  lie  rings;  yet,  I  am  sure,  I  would 
not  go  thro'jgli  the  same  series  of  trouble 
again  to  possess  all  the  treasures  of  both  the 
Indies.  I  have  enlirgel  more  than  I  intend- 
ed on  t'lis  point,  as  p:?rlups  these  papr^rsmiy 
bo  liicfai  to  caution  oLlierd  atjaiasl  indulsfmof 


an  ungovernable  passion  by  my  painful  ex- 
perience. How  often  may  such  headstrong 
votaries  be  said  "to  sow  the  v.ind,  and  reap 
the  whirlwind." 

My  heart  being  now  fixed  and  riveted  to  a 
particular  object,  I  considered  every  thing  I 
was  concerned  with  in  a  new  light.  I  con- 
cluded it  would-be  absolutely  impossible  to 
live  at  such  a  distance  as  Jamaica,  for  a  term 
of  four  or  five  years,  and  therefore  deter- 
mined at  all  events  that  I  would  not  go.  I 
could  not  bear  cither  to  acquaint  my  father 
with  the  true  reason,  or  to  invent  a  false 
one;  therefore,  without  giving  any  notice  to 
him  why  I  did  so,  I  staid  three  weeks  instead 
of  three  days  in  Kent,  till  I  thought  (as  it 
proved)  the  opportunity  would  be  lost,  and 
the  ship  sailed.  I  then  returned  to  London. 
I  had  highly  displeased  my  father  by  this 
disobedience;  but  he  v.as  more  easily  re- 
conciled than  I  could  have  expected.  In  a 
little  time  I  sailed  with  a  friend  of  his  to 
Venice.  In  this  voyage,  I  was  exposed  to 
the  company  and  ill  example  of  the  common 
sailors  among  whom  I  ranked.  Importunity 
and  opportunity  presenting  every  day,  I  once 
more  began  to  relax  from  the  sobriety  and 
order  which  I  had  observed,  in  some  degree, 
for  more  than  two  years.  I  was  sometimes 
pierced  with  sharp  convictions;  but  though  I 
made  a  few  faint  efforts  to  stop,  as  I  had  done 
from  several  before ;  I  did  not,  indeed,  as  yet 
turn  out  profligate ;  but  I  v/as  making  large 
strides  towards  a  total  apostacy  from  God. 
-The  most  remarkable  check  and  alarm  I  re- 
ceived (and  for  what  I  know,  the  last,)  was  by 
a  dream,  which  made  a  very  strong,  though 
not  any  abiding  impression  upon  my  mind. 

The  consideration  of  whom  I  writing  to 
renders  it  needless  for  me  either  to  enter 
upon  a  discussion  of  the  nature  of  dreams  in 
general,  or  to  make  an  apolog\-  for  recording 
my  own.  Those  who  acknowledge  scripture 
will  allow  that  there  have  been  monitory 
and  supernatural  dreams,  evident  communi- 
cations from  heaven,  either  directing  or  fore- 
telling future  events:  and  those  who  are 
acquainted  with  the  history  and  experience 
of  the  people  of  God  are  well  assured,  that 
such  intimations  have  not  been  totally  with- 
held in  any  period  down  to  the  present  times. 
Reason,  far  from  contradicting  this  supposi- 
tion, strongly  pleads  for  it,  where  the  process 
of  reasoning  is  rightly  understood,  and  care- 
fully pursued.  So  that  a  late  eminent  wri- 
ter,'''  who,  I  presume,  is  not  generally  charged 
with  enthusiasm,  undertakes  to  prove,  that 
t!ie  phenomenon  of  dreaming  is  inexplicable 
at  least,  if  not  absolutely  impossible,  without 
taking  in  the  agency  and  intervention  of 
spiritual  beings,  to  us  invisible.  I  would  re- 
fer the  incredulous  to  him.  For  my  own 
part,  I  can  say,  without  scruple,  "  The  dream 

*  Baxier  on  the  Via  laertiae, 


LCT.  III.] 


VOYAGE  TO  VENICE,  d:c. 


85 


is  certain,  and  tiio  intorprotation  thereof 
Buro,"  1  am  sure  I  ilreamed  to  the  followiii;^ 
ellbcL,  and  I  oamiot  iloubt,  trorn  what  1  hnw 
Kccn  since,  that  it  hail  a  direct  anil  cnsy  aj)- 
plicatiori  to  my  own  circumstances,  to  tlio 
d;mi»'ers  into  which  I  wan  alnjut  to  p!un,'.TO 
inyselt*,  and  to  the  unmerited  deliverance 
ajid  mercy  whidi  (Jod  would  he  pleaded  to 
otrcr  me  in  tlie  time  of  my  distress. 

Thoui^h  I  have  wrote  out  a  relation  of  tliis 
dream  more  than  once  for  others,  it  has  luij>- 
poned  that  I  never  reserved  a  copy  ;  but  the 
principal  incidents  are  so  deeply  enj,rraven  in 
my  memory,  that  I  believe  I  am  not  liable  to 
any  considerable  variations  in  repeatinj,^  the 
account.  The  scene  presented  to  my  imagi- 
nation was  the  harbour  of  Venice,  where  we 
had  lately  been.  I  thoufjht  it  \vas  nij>^ht, 
and  my  watch  upon  the  deck;  and  that,  as 
1  wa:3  walkin<^  to  and  fro  by  myself,  a  person 
came  to  me,  (I  do  not  remember  from 
whence,)  and  broufrlit  me  a  rinq-,  with  an 
express  charire  to  keep  it  carefully ;  assur- 
ing me  that  while  I  preserved  that  rinnr,  I 
should  be  happy  and  successful :  but,  if  I  lost 
or  parted  with  it,  I  must  expect  nothing  but 
trouble  and  misery.  I  accepted  the  present 
and  the  terms  willingly,  not  in  the  least 
doubting  my  own  care  to  preserve  it,  and 
highly  satisfied  to  have  my  happiness  in 
my  own  keeping.  I  was  engaged  in  these 
thoughts,  when  a  second  person  came  to  me, 
and  observing  the  ring  on  my  finger,  took 
occasion  to  ask  me  some  questions  concern- 
ing it.  I  readily  told  him  its  virtues,  and 
his  answer  expressed  a  surprise  at  my  weak- 
ness, in  expecting  such  effects  from  a  ring. 
I  think  he  reasoned  with  me  some  time  upon 
tlie  impossibility  of  the  thing,  and  at  length 
urged  me  in  direct  terms  to  throw  it  away. 
At  first,  I  was  shocked  at  the  proposal ;  but 
his  insinuations  prevailed.  I  began  to  reason 
and  doubt  myself,  and  at  last  plucked  it  off 
my  finger,  and  dropt  it  over  the  ship's  side 
into  the  water,  which  it  had  no  sooner 
touched,  than  I  saw,  the  same  instant,  a  ter- 
rible fire  burst  out  from  a  range  of  moun- 
tains, (a  part  of  the  Alps,)  wliich  appeared 
at  some  distance  behind  the  city  of  Venice. 
I  saw  the  hills  as  distinct  as  if  awake,  and 
they  were  all  in  flames.  I  perceived  too 
late  my  folly ;  and  my  tempter,  with  an  air 
of  insult,  informed  me,  that  all  the  mercy 
God  had  in  reserve  for  me,  was  comprised 
in  that  ring,  which  I  had  wilfully  thrown 
away.  I  understood  that  I  must  now  go 
with  him  to  the  burning  mountains,  and  that 
all  the  flames  I  saw  were  kindled  upon  my 
account.  I  trembled,  and  w^as  in  a  great 
agony ;  so  that  it  was  surprising  I  did  not 
then  awake :  but  my  dream  continued,  and 
when  I  thought  myself  upon  the  point  of  a 
constrained  departure,  and  stood  self-con- 
demned, without  plea  or  hope  ;  suddenly, 
either  a  tliird    person,   or  the  same   who 


broiight  the  ring  at  first,  (I  am  not  rertnin 
which,)  came  to  me,  and  demanded  tlie  catiKO 
of  my  grief  I  tohl  him  tlie  plain  can-,  con- 
fessing that  I  had  ruined  my^df  wilfidivt 
and  deserved  no  pity.  He  blamed  my  nihh- 
ness,  and  iu<ked  if  I  should  he  wi.ser,  sup. 
posing  1  had  my  ring  again.  I  could  hardly 
answer  tr)  this;  for  I  thought  it  was  gont^ 
beyond  recal.  I  believe,  indeed,  I  had  not 
time  to  answer,  before  I  saw  this  unexpected 
friend  go  down  under  the  water,  ju.st  in  the 
spot  wiiere  I  dropped  it ;  and  he  soon  re- 
turned, bringing  the  ring  with  him.  The 
moment  he  came  on  board,  the  flames  in  the 
mountains  were  extingui^hed,  and  my  sedu- 
cer left  me.  Then  was  "the  prey  taken 
from  the  hand  of  the  mighty,  and  the  lawful 
captive  delivered."  My  fears  were  at  an 
end,  and  with  joy  and  gratitude  I  approached 
my  kind  deliverer  to  receive  the  ring  again; 
but  he  refused  to  return  it,  and  spoke  to  this 
ert'ect:  "  If  you  should  be  entrusted  with  this 
ring  again,  you  wouid  very  soon  bring  your-- 
self  into  the  same  distress;  you  are  not  able 
to  keep  it;  but  I  will  preserve  it  for  you, 
and  whenever  it  is  needful,  will  produce  it 
in  your  behalf" — Upon  this  I  awoke,  in  a 
state  of  mind  not  to  be  described :  I  could 
hardly  eat,  or  sleep,  or  transact  my  necessary 
business  for  two  or  three  days ;  but  the  im- 
pression soon  wore  off,  and  in  a  little  time  I 
totally  forgot  it;  and  I  think  it  hardly  oc- 
curred to  my  mind  again,  till  several  years 
afterwards.  It  will  appear,  in  the  course  of 
these  papers,  that  a  time  came,  when  I 
found  myself  in  circumstances  very  nearly 
resembling  those  suggested  by  this  extraor- 
dinary dream,  when  I  stood  helpless  and 
hopeless  upon  the  brink  of  an  awful  eternity: 
and  I  doubt  not,  but  had  the  eyes  of  my  mind 
been  then  opened,  I  should  have  seen  my 
grand  enemy,  who  had  seduced  me,  wilfully 
to  renounce  and  cast  away  my  religious  pro- 
fession, and  to  involve  myself  in  the  most 
complicated  crimes ;  I  say,  I  should  probably 
have  seen  him  pleased  with  my  agonies,  and 
waiting  for  a  permission  to  seize  and  bear 
away  my  soul  to  this  place  of  torment.  I 
should  perhaps  have  seen  likewise  that  Jesus, 
whom  I  had  persecuted  and  defied,  rebuking 
the  adversary,  challenging  me  for  his  own, 
as  a  brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire,  and  say- 
ing, "  Deliver  him  from  going  down  into  the 
pit;  I  have  found  a  ransom."  However, 
though  I  saw  not  these  thmgs,  I  found  the 
benefit;  I  obtained  mercy.  The  Lord  an- 
swered for  me  in  the  day  of  my  distress ; 
and,  blessed  be  his  name,  he  who  restored 
the  ring,  (or  what  was  signified  by  it,)  vouch- 
safes to  keep  it.  O  what  an  unspeakable 
comfort  is  this,  that  I  am  not  in  mint;  ow^n 
keeping.  "  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd  :"  I 
have  been  able  to  trust  my  all  in  his  hands, 
and  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed.  Satan 
still  desires  to  have  me,  that  he  might  sift 


86 


JOURNEY  TO  KENT,  &c. 


[let.  nr. 


as  wheat;  but  my  Saviour  has  prayed  for 
me,  that  my  faith  may  not  fail.  Here  is  my 
security  and  jx)\ver ;  a  bulwark,  against 
which  the  <^atcs  of  liell  cannot  prevail,  liut 
for  tliis,  majiy  a  time  and  oftcji,  if  possible, 
I  should  have  ruined  myself,  since  my  first 
deliverance  ;  nay,  I  should  fall,  and  stumble, 
and  perish  still,  aller  all  that  the  Lord  has  done 
for  me,  if  his  faithfulness  was  not  cnoarrcd 
in  my  behalf,  to  be  my  sun  and  shield  even 
unto  death. — "  Bless  the  J^ord,  O  my  soul." 

Nothing  very  remarkable  occurred  in  the 
following  part  of  that  voyage.  I  returned 
home  in  December,  1743,  and  soon  after  re- 
peated my  visit  to  Kent,  where  I  protracted 
my  stay  in  the  same  imprudent  manner  I 
had  done  before,  which  again  disappointed 
my  father's  designs  in  my  favour,  and  almost 
provoked  him  to  disown  me.  Before  any 
thing  suitable  offered  again  I  was  impressed 
(owing  entirely  to  my  own  thoughtless  con- 
duct which  was  all  of  a  piece,)  and  put  on 
board  a  tender:  it  was  a  critical  juncture, 
when  the  French  fleets  were  hovering  upon 
our  coast,  so  that  my  father  was  incapable  to 
procure  my  release.  In  a  few  days  I  was 
sent  on  board  the  Harwich  man-of-war,  at 
the  Nore.  I  entered  here  upon  quite  a  new 
scene  of  life,  and  endured  nmch  hardship  for 
about  a  month.  My  father  was  then  willing 
that  I  should  remain  in  the  navy,  as  a  war 
was  daily  expected,  and  procured  me  a  re- 
commendation to  the  captain,  who  took  me 
upon  the  quarter  deck  as  a  midshipman.  I 
had  now  an  easy  life,  as  to  externals,  and 
might  have  gained  respect;  but  my  mind 
was  unsettled,  and  my  behaviour  very  indif- 
ferent. I  here  met  with  companions  who 
completed  the  ruin  of  my  principles;  and 
though  I  affected  to  talk  of  virtue,  and  was 
not  utterly  abandoned  as  afterwards,  yet  my 
delight  and  habitual  practice  was  wicked- 
ness: my  chief  intimate  was  a  person  of  ex- 
ceeding good  natural  talents,  and  much  ob- 
servation; he  was  the  greatest  master  of 
what  is  called  the  free-thinking  scheme  I 
remember  to  have  met  with,  and  knew  how 
to  insinuate  his  sentiments  in  the  most  plau- 
sible way.  And  his  zeal  was  equal  to  his  ad- 
dress; he  could  hardly  have  laboured  more  in 
the  cause,  if  he  had  expected  to  gain  heaven 
by  it.  Allow  me  to  add,  while  I  think  of  it, 
that  this  man,  whom  I  honoured  as  my  mas- 
ter, and  whose  practice  I  adopted  so  eagerly, 
perished  in  the  same  way  as  I  expected  to 
have  done.  I  have  been  told,  that  lie  was 
overtaken  in  a  voyage  from  Lisbon  with  a 
violent  storm ;  the  vessel  and  people  escaped, 
but  a  great  sea  broke  on  board  and  swept 
him  into  eternity.  Thus  the  Lord  spares  or 
punishes  according  to  his  soverein^n  pleasure ! 
But  to  return : — I  was  fond  of  his  com])any, 
and  having  myself  a  smattering  of  books, 
was  eager  enough  to  show  my  reading.  He 
soon  perceived  my  case  that  I  had  not  wholly 


broke  through  the  restraints  of  conscience, 
and  therefore  did  not  shock  me  at  first  with 
too  broad  intimations  of  his  design ;  he  rather, 
as  I  thought,  spoke  favourably  of  religion ; 
but  when  he  liad  gained  my  confidence,  he 
began  to  speak  plainer ;  and  perceiving  my 
ignorant  attachment  to  the  characteristics, 
he  joined  issue  with  me  upon  that  book,  and 
convinced  me  that  I  had  never  understood 
it.  In  a  word,  he  so  plied  me  with  objec- 
tions and  arguments,  that  my  depraved  heart 
was  soon  gained,  and  I  entered  into  his  plan 
with  all  my  spirit.  Thus,  like  an  unwary 
sailor,  who  quits  his  port  just  before  the  ris- 
ing storm,  I  renounced  the  hopes  and  com- 
forts of  the  gospel  at  the  very  time  when 
every  other  comfort  was  about  to  fail  me. 

In  December,  1744,  the  Harwich  was  in 
the  Dow-ns,  bound  to  the  East  Indies.  The 
captain  gave  me  liberty  to  go  on  shore  for  a 
day;  but  without  consulting  prudence,  or 
regarding  consequences,  I  took  horse,  and 
followed  the  dictates  of  my  restless  passion ; 
I  went  to  take  a  last  leave  of  her  I  loved.  I 
had  little  satisfaction  in  the  interview,  as  I 
was  sensible  that  I  was  taking  pains  to  mul- 
tiply my  own  troubles.  The  short  time  I 
could  stay  passed  like  a  dream,  and  on  new- 
year's  day,  1745,  I  took  my  leave  to  return 
to  the  ship.  The  captain  was  prevailed  on 
to  excuse  my  absence ;  but  this  rash  step 
(especially  as  it  was  not  the  first  step  of  the 
kind  I  had  taken,)  highly  displeased  him, 
and  lost  me  his  favour,  which  I  never  re- 
covered. 

At  length  we  sailed  from  Spithead  with  a 
very  large  fleet.  We  put  into  Torbay  with 
a  change  of  wind;  but  it  returning  fair 
again,  we  sailed  the  next  day.  Several  of 
our  fleet  were  lost  in  attempting  to  leave 
that  place :  and  the  following  night  the 
whole  fleet  was  greatly  endangered  upon 
the  coast  of  Cornwall,  by  a  storm  from  the 
southward.  The  darkness  of  the  night,  and 
the  number  of  the  vessels,  occasioned  much 
confusion  and  damage.  Our  ship,  though 
several  times  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
run  down  by  other  vessels,  escaped  unhurt ; 
but  many  suffered  much,  particularly  the 
admiral.  This  occasioned  our  putting  back 
to  Plymouth. 

While  we  lay  at  Plymouth,  I  heard  that 
my  father,  who  had  interest  in  some  of  the 
ships  lately  lost,  was  come  down  to  Torbay. 
He  had  a  connexion  at  that  time  with  the 
African  company.  I  thought  if  I  could  get 
to  him,  he  might  easily  introduce  me  into 
that  service,  which  would  be  better  than 
pursuing  a  long  uncertain  voya^re  to  the 
East  Indies.  It  was  a  maxim  with  me  in 
those  unhappy  days,  never  to  deliberate;  the 
thought  hardly  occurred  to  me  before  I  was 
resolved  to  leave  the  ship  at  all  events :  I 
did  so,  and  in  the  wrongest  manner  possible. 
I  was  sent  one  day  in  the  boat,  to  take  care 


-LET.  IV.] 


VOYAGE  TO  MADEIRA,  &,c. 


87 


that  nont'  ot  iho  poopir  di'sorti'd ;  but  T  l)o- 
truyed  my  trust,  and  went  oil*  inysidt!  I 
knew  not  what  road  to  tak«',  and  durst  not 
ask  for  frur  of  hoiwj:  snsiM«rttMl ;  yt4  havinif 
potno  «j(Mirral  idea  of  tlir  roinitry,  I  i^iu'ssctl 
rii>lit;  and  when  I  had  travidli'd  soni*'  miles, 
I  tound  ujxin  iiuiniry,  tliat  I  wa.s  6\\  the  road 
to  Dartmouth.  All  went  smoothly  that  day, 
and  part  of  tlio  next:  I  walked  apae(%  and 
expected  to  have  been  with  my  father  in 
about  two  hours,  when  I  was  met  by  a  small 
party  of  soldiers ;  I  could  not  avoid  or  de- 
ceive them.  They  brouuht  me  back  to  Ply- 
mouth. I  walkinl  throujrii  the  streets  g-uarded 
like  a  felon.  My  heart  was  full  of  indififna- 
lion,  sliame,  and  fear.  I  was  confined  two 
^ays  in  the  iruard  house,  then  sent  on  board 
■jny  shij),  and  kept  awhile  in  irons,  then  pub- 
licly stripped  and  whipped ;  allor  which  I 
was  degraded  from  my  office,  and  all  my 
former  companions  forbirlden  to  show  me  the 
least  favour,  or  even  to  speak  to  me.  As 
midshipman,  I  had  been  entitled  to  some 
counnand,  which  (beinnf  sufficiently  hau^fhty 
and  vain,)  I  had  not  been  backward  to  exert. 
I  was  now  in  my  turn  broun-ht  down  to  a 
level  with  the  lowest,  and  exposed  to  the  in- 
sults of  all. 

And  as  my  present  situation  was  uncom- 
fortable, my  future  prospects  were  still  worse : 
the  evils  I  suffered  were  likely  tog;row  heavier 
every  day.  While  my  catastrophe  was  recent, 
the  officers  and  my  quondam  brethren  were 
soniething"  disposed  to  screen  me  from  ill 
usao-e;  but,  during  the  little  tune  I  remained 
with  them  afterwards,  I  found  them  cool  very 
fast  in  their  endeavours  to  protect  me.  Indeed 
they  could  not  avoid  it  without  running  a 
great  risk  of  sharing  with  me ;  for  the  captain, 
though  in  general  a  humane  man,  who  be- 
haved very  well  to  the  ship's  company,  was 
almost  implacable  in  his  resentment,  when 
he  had  been  greatly  offended,  and  took  se- 
veral occasions  to  show  himself  so  to  me ; 
and  the  voyage  was  expected  to  be,  as  it 
proved,  for  "five  years.  Yet  I  think  nothing 
1  either  felt  or  feared  distressed  me  so  much, 
as  to  see  myself  thus  forcibly  torn  away  from 
the  object  of  my  affections,  under  a  great 
improbability  of  seeing  her  again,  and  a 
much  greater  of  returning  in  such  a  manner 
as  would  give  me  hopes  of  seeing  her  mine. 
Thus  I  was  as  miserable  on  all  hands  as  could 
well  be  imagined.  ]\Iy  breast  was  filled 
with  the  most  excruciating  passions,  eager 
desire,  bitter  rage,  and  black  despair.  Every 
hour  exposed  me  to  some  new  insult  and 
hardship,  with  no  hope  of  relief  or  mitigation, 
no  friend  to  take  my  part,  or  to  listen  to  my 
complaint.  Whether  I  looked  inward  or  out- 
ward, I  could  perceive  nothing  but  darkness 
and  misery.  I  tliink  no  case  except  that  of 
a  conscience  wounded  by  the  wrath  of  God, 
could  be  more  dreadful  than  mine.  I  cannot 
-express  with  what  wishfulness  and  regret  I 


cast  my  last  looks  upon  the  Knghsh  nhore ;  I 
ke|)t  my  eye.s  fixed  ujKm  it  till,  tln'  hhipV 
distiince  increasing,  it  Fen.sibjy  disuppcurjil  ; 
and  when  I  could  H«'e  it  no  loMgcr,  I  woji 
ti'uipted  to  throw  my.self  into  th»'  sea,  which 
(according  to  the  wi<:ked  nyHtcin  1  liud 
adopted)  would  put  a  peri<xl  to  all  my  norrowH 
at  once.  Jlut  the  secret  hand  of  (iod  re- 
strained xm\ — Help  me  to  prai.se  him,  dear 
Sir,  for  his  wonderful  go(Klness  to  the  moKt 
unworthy  of  all  creatures. — 1  am  your  most 
obliged  .servant. 
January  15,  17(v3. 


LETTER  IV. 

DEAR  SIR, — Though  I  desired  your  instruo- 
tions  as  to  the  manner  and  extent  of  these  me- 
moirs, I  began  to  write  betbn;  1  received  them, 
and  had  almost  finished  the  preceding  sheet 
when  your  favour  of  the  11th  came  to  hand.  I 
shall  find  another  occasion  to  acknowledge 
my  sense  of  your  kind  expressions  of  friend- 
ship, which,  I  pray  the  Lord,  I  may  never 
give  you  cause  to  repent  or  withdraw;  at 
present  I  shall  confine  myself  to  what  more 
particularly  relates  to  the  task  assigned  me. 
I  shall  obey  you,  Sir,  in  taking  notice  of  the 
little  incidents  you  recal  to  my  memory,  and  of 
others  of  tiic  like  nature,  which,  without  your 
direction,  I  should  have  thought  too  trivial, 
and  too  much  my  own  to  deserve  mentioning. 
When  I  began  the  eighth  letter,  I  intended 
to  say  no  more  of  myself  than  might  be  neces- 
sary to  illustrate  the  wonders  of  divine  pro- 
vidence and  grace  in  the  leading  turns  of  my 
life ;  but  I  account  your  judgment  a  sufficient 
w^arrant  for  enlarging  my  plan. 

Amongst  other  things,  you  desired  a  more 
explicit  account  of  the  state  and  progress  of 
my  courtship,  as  it  is  usually  phrased.  This 
was  the  point  in  which  I  thought  it  especially 
became  me  to  be  very  brief;  but  I  submit  to 
you  ;  and  this  seems  a  proper  place  to  resume 
it,  by  telling  you  how  it  stood  at  the  time  of 
my  leaving  England. — When  my  inclinations 
first  discovered  themselves,  both  parties  were 
so  young,  that  no  one  but  myself  considered 
it  in  a  serious  view.  It  served  for  tea-table 
talk  amongst  our  friends,  and  nothing  further 
was  expected  from  it.  But  afterwards,  when 
my  passion  seemed  to  have  abiding  effects,  so 
that  in  an  interval  of  two  years  it  was  not  at 
all  abated,  and  especially  as  it  occasioned  me 
to  act  without  any  regard  to  prudence  ^ 
interest,  or  my  father's  designs,  and  as  there 
was  a  coolness  between  him  and  the  family, 
her  parents  began  to  consider  it  as  a  matter 
of  consequence ;  and  when  I  took  my  last 
leave  of  them,  her  mother  (at  the  same  time 
she  expressed  the  most  tender  affection  for 
me,  as  if  I  had  been  lier  own  child)  told  me, 
that  though  she  had  no  objections  to  make. 


VOYAGE  TO  MADEIRA,  &c. 


[let.  IV, 


upon  a  supposition  tliat,  at  a  miturcr  ai^c, 
thcro  should  bo  a  probability  of  our  ennj-arrinfr 
upon  a  pruJoiit  pro.^poct,  yot,  as  tbin^d  then 
stooJ,  she  thoii'j!"ht  herself  oblii^ed  to  inter- 
fere ;  and  therefore  desired  1  would  no  more 
think  of  returning^  to  her  house,  unless  her 
daun^bter  was  from  home,  till  such  time  as  I 
could  either  prevail  with  myself  entirely  to 
give  up  my  pretensions,  or  could  assure  her 
that  I  had  my  father's  express  consent  to  go 
on.  Much  depended  upon  Mrs.  N*'''''"*^'''s  part 
in  this  affiir ;  it  was  something-  didicult ;  but 
though  she  was  young,  gay,  and  quite  un- 
practised in  such  matters,  she  was  directed 
to  a  happy  medium.  A  positive  encourage- 
ment, or  an  absolute  refusal,  would  have  been 
attended  with  equal,  though  ditferent  disad- 
vantages. But  without  much  studying  about 
it,  I  found  her  always  upon  her  guard :  slie 
had  penetration  to  see  her  absolute  power 
over  me,  and  prudence  to  make  a  proper  use 
of  it;  she  would  neither  understand  my  hints, 
nor  give  me  room  to  come  to  a  direct  ex- 
planation. She  has  said  since,  that  from  the 
first  discovery  of  my  regard,  and  long  before 
the  thought  was  agreeable  to  her,  she  had 
often  an  unaccountable  impression  upon  her 
mind,  that  sooner  or  later  she  should  be  mine. 
Upon  these  terms  we  parted. 

I  now  return  to  my  voyage.  During  our 
passage  to  Maderia,  I  was  a  prey  to  the  most 
gloomy  thoughts.  Though  I  had  well  de- 
served all  I  mot  with,  and  the  captain  might 
have  been  justified  if  he  had  carried  his  re- 
sentment still  farther  ;  yet  my  pride  at  that 
time  suggested  that  I  had  been  grossly  injur- 
ed, and  this  so  far  wrought  upon  my  wicked 
heart,  that  I  actually  formed  designs  against 
his  life ;  and  tliis  was  one  reason  that  made 
me  willing  to  prolong  my  own.  I  was  some- 
times divided  bet\yeen  the  two,  not  thhiking 
it  practicable  to  effect  both.  The  Lord  had 
now  to  appearance  given  me  up  to  judicial 
blindness;  I  was  capable  of  any  thing.  I 
had  not  the  least  fear  of  God  before  my  eyes, 
nor  (so  far  as  I  remember)  the  least  sensibility 
of  conscience.  T  was  possessed  of  so  strong 
a  spirit  of  delusion,  that  I  believed  my  own 
lie,  and  was  firmly  persuaded  that  after  death 
I  should  cease  to  be  :  yet  the  Lord  preserved 
me  !  Some  intervals  of  sober  reflection  would 
at  times  take  place :  when  I  have  chosen 
death  rather  than  life,  a  ray  of  hope  would 
come  in  (though  there  was  little  probability 
for  such  a  hope)  that  I  should  yet  see  better 
days,  that  I  might  again  return  to  England, 
and  have  my  wishes  crowned,  if  I  did  not 
wilfully  throw  myself  away.  In  a  word,  my 
love  to  Mrs.  N*****  was  now  the  only  re- 
straint I  had  left;  though  I  neither  feared 
God,  nor  regarded  men,  I  could  not  bear  that 
she  should  think  meanly  of  me  when  I  was 
dead.  As  in  the  outward  concerns  of  life, 
the  weakest  means  are  often  employed  by 
divine  providence  to  produce  great  effects, 


beyond  their  common  influence  (as  when  a 
disease,  for  instance,  has  been  removed  by 
a  fright,)  so  I  found  it  then :  this  single 
thought,  which  had  not  restrained  me  from  a 
thousand  smaller  evils,  proved  my  only  and 
effectual  barrier  against  the  greatest  and  most 
fatal  temptations.  How  long  I  could  liave  sup- 
ported this  conflict,  or  what,  humanly  speak- 
ing, would  have  been  the  consequence  of  my 
continuing  in  that  situation,  I  cannot  say ;  but 
the  Lord  whom  I  little  thought  of,  knew  my 
danger,  and  was  providing  for  my  deliverance. 
Two  things  I  liad  determined  when  at  Ply- 
mouth, that  I  would  not  go  to  India,  and  that 
I  would  go  to  Guinea ;  and  such,  indeed,  was 
the  Lord's  will  concerning  me ;  but  they 
were  to  be  accomplished  in  his  way,  not  in 
my  own.  We  had  been  now  at  Maderia  some 
time ;  the  business  of  the  fleet  was  complet- 
ed, and  we  were  to  sail  the  following  day. 
On  that  memorable  morning  I  was  late  in 
bed,  and  had  slept  longer,  but  that  one  of  the 
midshipmen  (an  old  companion)  came  down, 
and  between  jest  and  earnest  bade  me  rise  ; 
and  as  I  did  not  immediately  comply,  be  cut 
down  the  hammock  or  bed  in  which  I  lay, 
which  forced  me  to  dress  myself  I  was  very 
angry,  but  durst  not  resent  it.  I  w^as  little 
aware  how  much  his  caprice  affected  me,  and 
that  this  person,  who  had  no  design  in  what 
he  did,  was  the  messenger  of  God's  provi- 
dence. I  said  little,  but  went  upon  deck, 
where  I  that  moment  saw  a  man  putting  his 
clothes  into  a  boat,  who  told  me  he  was  going 
to  leave  us.  Upon  inquiring,  I  was  inform- 
ed that  two  men  from  a  Guinea  ship,  which 
lay  near  us,  had  entered  on  board  the  Har- 
wich, and  that  the  commodore  (the  present 
Sir  George  Pocock)  had  ordered  the  captain 
to  send  two  others  in  their  room.  My  heart 
instantly  burned  like  fire.  I  begged  the  boat 
might  be  detained  a  few  minutes ;  I  ran  to 
the  lieutenants,  and  intreated  them  to  inter- 
cede with  the  captain  that  I  might  be  dis- 
missed. Upon  this  occasion,  though  I  had 
been  formerly  on  ill  terms  with  these  officers, 
and  had  disobliged  them  all  in  their  turns,  yet 
they  had  pitied  my  case,  and  were  ready  to 
serve  me  now.  The  captain,  who,  when  we 
were  at  Plymouth,  had  refused  to  exchange 
me,  though  at  the  request  of  admiral  Medley, 
was  now  easily  prevailed  on.  I  believe,  ia 
little  more  than  half  an  hour  from  my  being 
asleep  in  my  bed,  I  saw  myself  discharged, 
and  safe  on  board  another  ship.  This  was 
one  of  the  many  critical  turns  of  my  life, 
in  which  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  display  his 
providence  and  care,  by  causing  many  un- 
expected circumstances  to  concur  in  almost 
an  instant  of  time.  These  sudden  opportu- 
nities were  several  times  repeated :  each  of 
them  brought  me  into  an  entire  new  scene 
of  action  ;  and  they  were  usually  delayed  to 
almost  the  last  moment,  in  which  they  could 
have  taken  place. 


urr.  v.] 


The  ship  I  wont  on  Ixwrtl  of  was  hound  to 
•Sierra  Loorie,  und  tho  mljiiccnt  jKirtsof  what 
.'  called  Uie  WiiuKvard  Coast  of  Africa, 
'^he  coininander,  I  tourid,  wiis  ac(|uainted 
witli  my  father:  ho  received  mo  very  kindly, 
and  made  fair  professions  of  assistance,  and 
1  believe  lie  would  have  been  my  friend  ; 
but  witliDUt  nuikinuf  the  least  advantaufe  of 
former  mistakes  and  troubles,  I  pursued  the 
Kime  course ;  nay,  if  possible,  I  acted  nuich 
worse.  On  board  the  Harwich,  thouirli  my 
principles  were  totally  corrupted,  yet,  as 
upon  my  first  jifoinif  there  1  was  in  some 
doirree  staid  and  serious,  the  remembrance 
of  tins  made  me  ashamed  of  breakinir  out  in 
that  notorious  manner  i  could  otherwise 
have  indulrred.  But  now,  entering'  amon«rst 
6trani»'prs,  1  could  appear  without  disg-uise  ; 
and  I  well  remember,  that  wliilc  I  was  pass- 
injr  from  the  one  ship  to  the  other,  this  was 
one  reason  why  I  rejoiced  in  the  exchange, 
and  one  reflection  I  made  upon  the  occasion, 
viz.  that  I  now  might  bo  as  abandoned  as  I 
pleased,  without  any  control :  and,  from  this 
time,  I  was  exceedingly  vile  indeed,  little  if 
any  thing  short  of  that  animated  description 
of  an  almost  irrecoverable  state,  which  we 
have  in  '2  Peter  ii.  14.  I  not  only  sinned 
with  a  high  hand  myself,  but  made  it  my 
study  to  tempt  and  seduce  otliers  upon  every 
occasion :  nay,  I  eagerly  sought  occasion 
sometimes  to  my  own  hazard  and  hurt.  One 
natural  consequence  of  this  carriage  was,  a 
loss  of  the  favour  of  my  new  captain ;  not 
that  he  was  at  all  religious,  or  disliked  my 
wickedness,  any  further  than  it  affected  his 
interest;  but  1  became  careless  and  disobe- 
dient ;  I  did  not  please  him,  because  I  did 
not  intend  it ;  and,  as  he  w^as  a  man  of  an 
odd  temper  likewise,  we  the  more  easily  dis- 
agreed. Besides,  I  had  a  little  of  that  un- 
lucky wit,  which  can  do  little  more  than 
multiply  troubles  and  enemies  to  its  pos- 
sessor; and  upon  some  imagined  affront,  I 
made  a  song,  in  which  I  ridiculed  his  ship, 
his  designs,  and  his  person,  and  soon  taught 
it  to  the  whole  ship's  company.  Such  was 
the  ungrateful  return  I  made  for  his  offers 
of  friendship  and  protection.  I  had  men- 
tioned no  names,  but  the  allusion  was  plain, 
and  he  was  no  stranger  either  to  the  inten- 
tion or  the  author. — I  shall  say  no  more  of 
this  part  of  my  story  ;  let  it  be  buried  in 
eternal  silence.  But  let  me  not  be  silent 
from  the  praise  of  that  grace  which  could 
pardon,  that  blood  which  could  expiate  such 
sins  as  mine ;  yea,  "  the  Ethiopian  may 
change  his  skin,  and  the  leopard  his  spots," 
since  I,  who  w^as  the  willing  slave  of  every 
evil,  possessed  with  a  legion  of  unclean 
spirits,  have  been  spared,  and  saved,  and 
changed,  to  stand  a  monument  of  his  Al- 
mighty power  for  ever. 

Thus  I  went  on  for  about  six  months,  by 
which  time  the  sh'p  was  preparing  to  leave 
M 


HARDSHIPS  P^NDUREI)  IN  AFRICA. 


60 


the  roast.  A  few  days  before  hhe  saih'd  the 
captain  died.  I  wa.s  n(jt  upon  rmich  better 
terms  with  his  mate,  who  now  Hucci-eded  to 
t;ie  command,  and  had  upon  some  occawion 
treated  me  ill  :  I  made  no  doubt,  but,  if  I 
went  with  him  to  the  West  Indies,  he  would 
put  me  on  board  a  njau-of-war ;  and  IIuh, 
from  what  I  had  known  already,  was  more 
dreadful  to  mo  than  death.  'J'o  avoid  it,  1 
determined  to  remain  in  Africa,  and  amused 
mysidf  with  many  golden  (iream.s,  that  here 
I  should  fmd  an  opportunity  of  improving  my 
fortune. 

There  are  still  upon  that  part  of  the  coast 
a  few  white  men  settled,  (and  there  were 
many  more  at  the  time  I  v/as  first  there,) 
whose  business  it  waj^  to  purchase  slaves,  die. 
ill  the  rivers  and  country  adjacent,  and  sell 
tliem  to  the  ships  at  an  advanced  prire. 
One  of  these,  who  at  first  landed  in  my  in- 
digent circumstances,  had  ac(|uired  consider- 
able wealth  :  he  had  lately  been  in  England, 
and  was  returning  in  the  vessel  I  was  in,  of 
which  he  owned  a  quarter  part  His  ex- 
ample impressed  me  with  hopes  of  the  same 
success;  and  upon  condition  of  entering-  into 
his  service,  I  obtained  my  discharge.  I  had 
not  the  precaution  to  make  any  terms,  but 
trusted  to  his  generosity.  I  received  no 
compensation  for  my  time  on  board  the  ship, 
but  a  bill  upon  the  owners  in  England,  which 
was  never  paid ;  for  they  failed  before  my 
return.  The  day  before  the  vessel  sailed  I 
landed  upon  the  island  of  Benanoes,  with 
little  more  than  the  clothes  upon  my  back, 
as  if  I  had  escaped  shipwreck. — I  am,  dear 
Sir,  your's,  &:c. 

January  17,  1763. 


LETTER  V. 

DEAR  SIR, — There  seems  an  important  in- 
struction, and  of  frequent  use,  in  these  words 
of  our  dear  Lord,  "  M  ine  hour  is  not  yet  come." 
The  two  following  years,  of  which  I  am  now 
to  give  some  account,  will  seem  as  an  abso- 
lute blank  in  a  very  short  life  :  but  as  the 
Lord's  hour  of  grace  was  not  yet  come,  and 
I  was  to  have  still  deeper  experience  of  the 
dreadful  state  of  the  heart  of  man,  when  lefl 
to  itself;  I  have  seen  frequent  cause  since, 
to  admire  tlie  mercy  of  the  Lord  in  banish- 
ing me  to  those  distant  parts,  and  almost  ex- 
cluding me  from  human  society,  at  a  time 
when  I  was  big  Vv'ith  mischief,  and,  like  one 
infected  with  a  pestilence,  was  capable  of 
spreading-  a  taint  wherever  I  went  Had 
my  afiairs  taken  a  different  turn ;  had  I  suc- 
ceeded in  my  designs,  and  remained  in  Eng- 
land, my  sad  story  would  probably  have  been 
worse.  Worse  in  myself,  indeed,  I  could 
have  hardly  been;  but  my  wickedness  would 
have  had  greater  scope ;  I  might  have  been 


90 


HARDSHIPS  ENDURED  IN  AFRICA. 


^LET.  V. 


very  hurtful  to  others,  and  multiplied  irre- 
parable evils;  but  tiie  Lord  wisely  placed  me 
where  I  could  do  little  harui.  The  few  I 
had  to  converse  with  were  too  much  like 
myself,  and  1  was  soon  brouf^ht  into  such 
abject  circumstances,  that  I  was  too  low  to 
have  any  influence.  I  was  rather  shunned 
and  despised  than  imitated;  there  bcinfr  few 
even  of  tlie  negroes  themselves,  during-  the 
first  year  of  my  residence  amongst  them, 
but  thought  themselves  too  good  to  speak  to 
me.  I  was  as  yet  an  "  outcast  lying  in  my 
blood,"  (Ezek.  xvi.)  and  to  all  appearance 
exposed  to  perish.  But  the  Lord  beheld  me 
with  mercy, — he  did  not  strike  me  to  hell, 
as  I  justly  deserved  ;  •'  he  passed  by  me 
when  I  was  in  my  blood,  and  said  unto  me 
live."  But  the  appointed  time  for  the  mani- 
festation of  his  love,  to  cover  all  my  iniqui- 
ties with  the  robe  of  his  righteousness,  and 
to  admit  me  to  the  privileges  of  his  children, 
was  not  till  long  afterwards  ;  yet  even  now 
he  bade  me  live ;  and  I  can  only  ascribe  it 
to  his  secret  upholding  power,  that  what  I 
suffered  in  a  part  of  this  interval,  did  not  be- 
reave me  either  of  my  life  or  senses  ;  yet  as 
by  these  suiierings  the  force  of  my  evil  ex- 
ample and  inclinations  w^as  lessened,  I  have 
reason  to  account  them  amongst  my  mercies. 
It  may  not,  perhaps,  be  amiss  to  digress 
for  a  few  lines,  and  give  you  a  very  brief 
sketch  of  the  geography  of  the  circuit  I  was 
now  confined  to,  especially  as  I  may  have 
frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  places  I  shall 
now  mention  ;  for  my  trade  afterwards  when 
the  Lord  gave  me  to  see  better  days,  was 
chiefly  to  the  same  places,  and  with  the  same 
persons,  where  and  by  whom  I  had  been  con- 
sidered as  upon  a  level  with  their  meanest 
slaves.  From  Cape  De  Verd,  the  most  wes- 
tern point  of  Africa,  to  Cape  Mount,  the 
whole  coast  is  full  of  rivers:  the  principal 
are  Gambia,  Rio  Grande,  Sierra  Leone,  and 
Sherbro.  Of  the  former,  as  it  is  well  known, 
and  I  was  never  there,  I  need  say  nothing. 
The  Rio  Grande,  like  the  Nile,  divides  into 
many  branches  near  the  sea.  On  the  most 
northerly,  called  Cacheo,  the  Portuguese 
have  a  settlement.  The  most  southern 
branch,  known  by  the  name  of  Rio  Nuna, 
is,  or  then  was,  the  usual  boundary  of  the 
white  men's  trade  northward.  Sierra  Leone 
is  a  mountainous  peninsula,  uninhabited,  and 
I  believe  inaccessible,  upon  account  of  the 
thick  woods,  excepting  those  parts  which  lie 
near  the  water.  The  river  is  large  and  na- 
vigable. From  hence,  about  twelve  leagues 
to  the  south-east,  are  three  contiguous  is- 
lands, called  the  Benanoes,  about  twenty 
miles  in  circuit :  this  was  about  the  centre 
of  the  white  men's  residence.  Seven  leagues 
farther  the  same  way,  lie  the  Plantanes,  three 
small  islands,  two  miles  distant  from  the  con- 
tinent at  the  point  which  forms  one  side  of 
the  Sherbro.     This  river  is  more  properly  a 


sound,  running  within  a  long  island,  and  re- 
ceiving the  confluence  of  several  large  rivers, 
"  rivers  unknown  to  song,"  but  far  more 
deeply  engraven  in  my  remembrance  than 
the  Po  or  Tyber.  The  southernmost  of  these 
has  a  very  peculiar  course,  almost  parallel  to 
the  coast ;  so  that  in  tracing  it  a  great  many 
leagues  upwards,  it  will  seldom  lead  one 
above  three  miles,  and  sometimes  not  moro 
tlran  half  a  mile  from  the  sea-shore.  Indeed 
I  know  not,  but  that  all  these  rivers  may 
have  communications  with  each  other,  and 
with  the  sea  in  many  places,  which  I  have 
not  remarked.  If  you  cast  your  eyes  upon 
a  large  map  of  Africa,  while  you  are  read- 
ing this,  you  will  have  a  general  idea  of  the 
country  I  was  in  ;  for  though  the  maps  are 
very  incorrect,  mo.st  of  the  places  I  have 
mentioned  are  inserted,  and  in  the  same 
order  as  I  have  named  them. 

My  new  master  had  formerly  resided  near 
Cape  Mount,  but  he  now  settled  at  the  Plan- 
tanes, upon  the  largest  of  the  three  islands. 
It  is  a  low  sandy  island,  about  two  miles  in 
circumference,  and  almost  covered  with  palm- 
trees.  We  immediately  began  to  build  a 
house,  and  to  enter  upon  trade.  I  had  now 
some  desire  to  retrieve  my  lost  time,  and  to 
exert  diligence  in  what  was  before  me ;  and 
he  was  a  man  with  whom  I  might  have  lived 
tolerably  well,  if  he  had  not  been  soon  influ- 
enced against  me :  but  he  was  much  under 
the  direction  of  a  black  woman,  who  lived 
with  him  as  a  wife.  She  was  a  person  of 
some  consequence  in  her  own  country,  and 
he  owed  his  first  rise  to  her  interest.  This 
woman,  (I  know  not  for  what  reason.)  was 
strangely  prejudiced  against  me  from  the 
first;  and  what  made  it  still  worse  for  me, 
was  a  severe  fit  of  illness,  which  attacked 
me  very  soon,  before  I  had  opportunity  to 
show  what  I  could  or  would  do  in  his  service. 
I  was  sick  when  he  sailed  in  a  shallop  to 
Rio  Nuna,  and  he  left  me  in  her  hands. 
At  first  I  was  taken  some  care  of;  but,  as  I 
did  not  recover  very  soon,  she  grew  weary, 
and  entirely  neglected  me.  I  had  sometimes 
not  a  little  difficulty  to  procure  a  draught  of 
cold  water,  when  burning  with  a  fever.  My 
bed  was  a  mat,  spread  upon  a  board  or  chest, 
and  a  log  of  wood  my  pillow.  When  my 
fever  left  me,  and  my  appetite  returned,  I 
w^ould  gladly  have  eaten,  but  there  was  no 
one  gave  unto  me.  She  lived  in  plenty  her- 
self, but  hardly  allowed  me  sufficient  to  sus- 
tain life,  except  now  and  then,  w'hen  in  the 
highest  i^ood  humour,  she  would  send  me 
victuals  in  her  own  plate,  after  she  had 
dined;  and  this,  (so  greatly  was  my  pride 
humbled,)  I  received  with  thanks  and  eager 
ness,  as  the  most  needy  beggar  does  an  alms. 
Once,  I  well  remember,  I  was  called  to  re- 
ceive tliis  bounty  from  her  own  hand ;  but, 
being  exceedingly  weak  and  feeble,  I  drop* 
ped  the  plate.  Those  who  live  in  plenty  can 


i*rr.  v.] 


HARDSIIIl'S  KNDUREI)  L\  AFRICA. 


91 


Aardly  cnncoivo  how  this  loss  tourhi'd  mo  ; 
bill  Khf  had  thf  criu'lty  to  hiu^h  iit  my  dis- 
apiK)mtim*iit ;  and  thouijh  tlio  tablo  was  ro- 
vereil  with  dishi's,  (lor  slio  livod  mucli  in  the 
Euro})oaa  maimor,)  she  rot'usod  to  ^ivo  me 
any  more.  My  di.«Jtress  lias  been  at  times  so 
^roat,  as  tt)  coiupid  mo  to  m»,  by  nij^ht,  and 
pull  up  roots  in  th(?  plantation,  (thou;jh  at 
the  risk  of  boinij  punishod  as  a  thiol*)  which 
I  have  caton  raw  u|M)n  the  s|)ot,  for  toar  of 
discovery.  Tho  roots  I  spoak  of  aro  vory 
wholesome  food,  when  boilod  or  roastod,  but 
^is  unlit  to  bo  oaton  raw  in  any  (luantity,  as 
a  [K)tatoo.  Tho  consocpionco  of  this  diot, 
wiiich,  atlor  the  tirst  oxporimont,  1  always 
oxj)octod.  and  seldom  missed,  was  tlie  same 
as  if  I  had  taken  tarUir  emetic ;  so  that  I 
ollen  returned  as  empty  as  1  went:  yet  ne- 
cessity urijod  me  to  repeat  the  trial  several 
times.  1  have  sometimes  been  relieved  by 
strant^fcrs;  nay,  even  by  the  slaves  in  the 
chain,  who  secretly  brought  me  victuals  (for 
they  durst  not  be  seen  to  do  it,)  from  their 
own  slender  pittance.  Next  to  pressincr  want, 
nothmj;^  sits  harder  upon  the  mind  than  scorn 
and  contempt:  and  of  this  likewise  I  had  an 
abundant  measure.  When  I  was  very  slowly 
recoverinj»',  this  woman  would  sometimes 
pay  me  a  visit,  not  to  pity  or  relieve,  but  to 
insult  me.  She  would  call  me  worthless  ! 
and  indolent,  and  compel  me  to  walk,  which 
when  I  could  hardly  do,  she  would  set  her 
attendants  to  mimic  my  motions,  to  clap 
their  hands,  laugh,  throw  limes  at  me;  or, 
if  they  chose  to  throw  stones,  (as  I  tliink 
was  the  case  once  or  twice,)  they  were  not 
rebuked :  but,  in  general,  though  all  who 
depended  on  her  favour  must  join  in  her 
treatment,  yet,  when  she  was  out  of  sight,  I 
was  rather  pitied  than  scorned,  by  the  mean- 
est of  her  slaves.  At  length  my  master  re- 
turned from  his  voyage ;  I  complained  of  ill 
usage,  but  he  could  not  believe  me  ;  and,  as 
I  did  it  in  her  hearing,  I  fared  no  better  for  it 
But  in  his  second  voyage  he  took  me  with 
him.  We  did  pretty  well  for  a  while,  till  a 
brother  trader  he  met  in  the  river,  persuaded 
him  that  I  was  unfaithful,  and  stole  his  goods 
in  the  night,  or  when  he  was  on  vshore.  This 
was  almost  the  only  vice  I  could  not  be  justly 
charged  with :  the  only  remains  of  a  good 
education  I  could  boast  of,  was  what  is  com- 
monly called  honesty :  and,  as  far  as  he  had 
entrusted  me,  I  had  always  been  true  ;  and 
though  my  great  distress  might,  in  some 
measure,  have  excused  it,  I  never  once 
thought  of  defrauding  him  in  the  smallest 
matter.  However,  the  charge  was  believed, 
and  I  condemned  without  evidence.  From 
that  time  he  likewise  used  me  very  hardly ; 
"whenever  he  left  the  vessel  I  was  locked 
upon  deck,  with  a  pint  of  rice  for  my  day's 
allowance ;  and  if  he  staid  longer,  I  had  no 
relief  till  his  return.  Indeed,  I  believe  I 
siiould  have  been  nearly  starved,  but  for 


an  op|V)rtunity  of  catching  finh  somolimoa. 
W'hon  towln  wore  kdlod  for  hiH  own  um»,  I 
seldom  was  allowo<l  any  part  but  tho  onlruilM, 
to  bait  my  hooks  with:  and,  ut  what  w«!  call 
slack  water,  that  is,  ulK)ut  tlu)  changing  of 
tho  tides,  when  tho  current  was  still,  I  uHcd 
generally  to  fish,  (l()r  at  other  timoH  it  waa 
not  practicable,)  and  I  v(!ry  oflon  sucroodod. 
If  1  saw  a  fish  upon  my  luxik,  my  joy  wa.s 
little  less  than  any  other  j)ers()n  may  have 
found,  in  tho  accomplishment  of  th(;  .schomo 
h(^  had  mo.st  at  heart.  Siu-Ji  a  fish,  hastily 
broiled,  or  rather  half  burned,  without  sauce, 
salt,  or  bread,  has  allbrdod  mo  a  deliciou.s 
meal.  If  I  caught  none,  I  might,  if  I  could, 
sleep  nway  my  hunger  till  tho  next  return 
of  slack  water,  and  then  try  again.  Nor  did 
I  suflbr  less  from  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather  and  the  want  of  clothes.  The 
rainy  sea.son  was  now  advancing ;  my  whole 
suit  was  a  shirt,  a  pair  of  trowsers,  a  cotton 
handkerchief  instead  of  a  cap,  and  a  cotton 
cloth  about  two  yards  long,  to  supply  the 
want  of  upper  garments:  and  thus  accoutred, 
I  have  been  exposed  for  twenty,  thirty,  per- 
haps near  forty  hours  together,  in  incessant 
rains,  accompanied  with  strong  gales  of  wind, 
without  the  least  shelter,  when  my  master 
was  on  shore.  I  feel  to  this  day  some  faint 
returns  of  the  violent  pains  I  then  contracted. 
The  excessive  cold  and  wet  I  endured  in 
that  voyage,  and  soon  after  I  had  recovered 
from  a  long  sickness,  quite  broke  my  con- 
stitution and  my  spirits ;  the  latter  were  soon 
restored,  but  the  effects  of  the  former  si  111 
remain  with  me,  as  a  needful  memento  of 
the  service  and  the  wages  of  sin. 

In  about  two  months  we  returned,  and 
then  the  rest  of  the  time  I  remained  with 
him  was  chiefly  spent  at  the  Plantancs  under 
the  same  reghnen  as  I  have  already  men- 
tioned. I\Iy  haughty  heart  was  now  brought 
down,  not  to  a  wholesome  repentance,  not 
to  the  language  of  the  prodigal ;  this  was 
far  from  me ;  but  my  spirits  were  sunk ;  I 
lost  all  resolution,  and  almost  ail  reflection. 
I  had  lost  the  fierceness  which  fired  me 
when  on  board  the  Harwich,  and  which 
made  me  capable  of  the  most  desperate  at- 
tempts ;  but  I  was  no  further  changed  than 
a  tyger  tamed  by  hunger — remove  the  occa- 
sion, and  he  will  be  as  Avild  as  ever. 

One  thing,  though  strange,  is  most  true. 
Though  destitute  of  food  and  clothing,  de- 
pressed to  a  degree  beyond  common  wretch- 
edness, I  could  sometimes  collect  my  mind 
to  mathematical  studies.  I  had  bought  Bar- 
row's Euclid  at  Portsmouth;  it  was  the  only 
volume  I  brought  on  siiore ;  it  was  always 
with  me,  and  I  used  to  take  it  to  remote 
corners  of  the  island  by  the  sea  side,  and 
draw  my  diagrams  with  a  long  stick  upon 
the  sand.  Thus  I  often  beguiled  my  sor- 
rows, and  almost  forgot  my  feeling :  and 
thus,  without  any  other  assistance,  I  made 


92 


ENLARGEMENT  IN  AFRICA. 


[let.  iir. 


myself,  in  jrootl  measure,  mastor  of  tho  first 
fciix  books  of  Euclid. — 1  am,  your's  as  before. 
JaiLuanj  17,  17G3, 


LETTER  VL 

DEAR  SIR, — There  is  much  piety  and  spirit 
in  tfie  n-ratt*ful  acknowledfrment  of  Jacob, 
"  With  my  5- tart"  I  passed  this  Jordan,  and  now 
I  am  become  two  bands."  They  are  words 
W'liicli  ought  to  affect  me  with  a  peculiar 
emotion.  I  remember  that  in  some  of  those 
mournful  days,  to  which  my  last  letter  re- 
fers, 1  was  busied  in  planting  some  lime  or 
lemon  trees.  The  plants  I  put  into  the 
ground  were  no  longer  than  a  young  goose- 
berry bush ;  my  master  and  his  mistress 
passing  by  the  place,  stopped  a  while  to  look 
at  me ;  at  last,  "  Who  knows,"  says  he,  "  who 
knows  but  by  the  time  these  trees  grow  up 
and  bear,  you  may  go  home  to  England,  ob- 
tain the  command  of  a  ship,  and  return  to 
reap  the  fruits  of  your  labours;  we  see 
strange  things  sometimes  happen."  This,  as 
he  intended  it,  was  a  cutting  sarcasm.  I  be- 
lieve he  thought  it  full  as  probable,  that  I 
should  live  to  be  king  of  Poland ;  yet  it 
proved  a  prediction,  and  they  (one  of  them  at 
least)  lived  to  see  me  return  from  England 
in  the  capacity  he  had  mentioned,  and  pluck 
some  of  the  first  limes  from  those  very  trees. 
How  can  I  proceed  in  my  relation,  till  I  rajse 
a  monument  to  the  divine  goodness,  by  com- 
paring the  circumstances  in  which  the  Lord 
has  since  placed  me,  with  what  I  was  at  that 
time !  Had  you  seen  me.  Sir,  then  go  so 
pensive  and  solitary  in  the  dead  of  night  to 
wash  my  one  shirt  upon  the  rocks,  and  after- 
wards put  it  on  wet,  that  it  might  dry  upon 
my  back,  wliile  I  slept;  had  you  seen  me  so 
poor  a  figure,  that  when  a  ship's  boat  came 
to  the  island,  shame  often  constrained  me  to 
hide  myself  in  the  woods,  from  tlie  sight  of 
strangers;  especially,  had  you  known  that 
my  conduct,  principles,  and  heart,  were  still 
darker  than  my  outward  condition,  how  little 
would  you  have  imagined  that  one,  who  so 
fully  answered  to  the  o-Tu>>,roi  xa.  ^.o-:uvt6.*  of 
the  apostle,  was  reserved  to  be  so  peculiar 
an  instance  of  the  providential  care  and  ex- 
uberant goodness  of  God.  There  was,  at 
that  time,  but  one  earnest  desire  in  my 
heart,  which  was  not  contrary  and  shocking 
both  to  religon  and  reason;  that  one  desire, 
though  my  vile  licentious  life  rendered  me 
peculiarly  unworthy  of  success,  and  though  a 
thousand  difficulties  seemed  to  render  it  im- 
possible, tho  Lord  was  pleased  to  gratify. 
But  this  favour,  though  great,  and  greatly 
prized,  was  a  small  thing  compared  to  the 
blessings  of  his  grace :  he  spared  me,  to  give 


Hateful  and  haiinji  one  another. 


me  the  knowledge  of  himself,  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  in  love  to  my  soul  he  de- 
livered me  from  the  pit  of  corruption,  and 
cast  all  my  aggravated  sins  behind  his  back. 
He  brought  my  feet  into  the  paths  of  peace. 
This  is  indeed  the  chief  article,  but  it  is  not 
tho  whole.  When  he  made  me  acceptable 
to  himself  in  the  beloved,  he  gave  me  favour 
in  the  sight  of  others.  He  raised  me  new 
friends,  protected  and  guided  me  through  a 
long  series  of  dangers,  and  crowned  every 
day  with  repeated  mercies.  To  him  I  owe 
it  that  I  am  still  alive,  and  that  I  am  not 
still  living  in  hunger,  and  in  thirst,  and  in 
nakedness,  and  the  want  of  all  things :  into 
that  state  I  brought  myself,  but  it  was  he 
who  delivered  me.  He  has  given  me  an 
easy  situation  in  life,  some  experimental 
knowledge  of  his  gospel,  a  large  acquaint- 
ance amongst  his  people,  a  friendship  and 
correspondence  with  several  of  his  most 
honoured  servants.  But  it  is  as  difficult  to 
enumerate  my  present  ad\-antages,  as  it  is 
fully  to  describe  the  evils  and  miseries  of  tho 
preceding  contrast. 

I  know  not  exactly  how  long  things  con- 
tinued with  me  thus,  but  I  believe  near  a 
twelvemonth.  In  this  interval  I  wrote  two  or 
three  times  to  my  father;  I  gave  him  an  ac- 
count of  my  condition,  and  desired  his  assist- 
ance, intimating  at  the  same  time,  that  I  had 
resolved  not  to  return  to  England,  unless  he 
was  pleased  to  send  for  me ;  I  have  likewise 
letters  by  me  wrote  to  jMrs.  N*****  in  that 
dismal  period;  so  that  at  the  lowest  ebb,  it 
seems  I  still  retained  a  hope  of  seeing  her 
again.  My  father  applied  to  his  friend  in 
Liverpool,  of  whom  I  have  spoken  before, 
who  gave  orders  accordingly  to  a  captain  of 
his,  v/ho  was  then  fitting  out  for  Gambia  and 
Sierra  Leone. 

Some  time  within  the  year,  as  I  have 
said,  I  obtained  my  master's  consent  to  live 
with  another  trader,  who  dwelt  upon  the 
same  island.  Without  his  consent  I  could 
not  be  taken,  and  he  was  unwilling  to  do  it 
sooner,  but  it  was  then  brought  about.  This 
was  an  alteration  much  to  my  advantage ;  I  I 
was  soon  decently  clothed,  lived  in  plenty,  | 
was  considered  as  a  companion,  and  trusted 
with  the  care  of  all  his  domestic  effects, 
which  were  to  the  amount  of  some  thousand 
pounds.  This  man  had  several  factories  and 
white  servants  in  different  places,  particu- 
larly one  in  Kittam,  the  river  I  spoke  of  which 
runs  so  near  along  the  sea  coast.  I  was 
soon  appointed  to  go  there,  where  I  had  a 
share  in  the  managementof  business,  jointly 
with  another  of  his  servants:  we  lived  as  we 
pleased,  business  flourished,  and  our  employ- 
er was  satisfied.  Here  I  began  to  be  wretch 
enough  to  think  myself  happy.  There  is  a 
significant  phrase  frequently  used  in  those 
parts,  that  such  a  white  man  is  grown  black. 
It  does  net  intend   an  alteration  of  com 


LET.   VI.j 


KXLAlUJIvMKNT  Ii\  AFRICA. 


03 


plo.xion,  l)uttlispo.sitii)ii.  I  liuvo  known  sovrral, 
who,  settling'  in  Afririi  iitlor  tlu»  ujji"  of  thirty 
or  lorly,  have  at  that  tiint*  t)t'  hi'o  bt'i-n  {rradii- 
ally  Oiisirnilatcd  to  tht«  tcMnpers,  cnstonis,  and 
ccrcnionii's  of  th«'  natives,  so  far  as  to  prcll'r 
tiiat  country  to  En^hmd ;  th(>y  liavo  even 
become  dunes  to  all  the  pretended  charms, 
nocromances,  amuU'ts,  ami  divinations  of  the 
blinded  neirpoes,  and  put  more  trust  in  such 
llMn;]:s  than  the  wiser  sort  amon^j  the  na- 
tivas.  A  jKirt  of  tiiis  spirit  of  infatuation  wiui 
growin;!^  ujH)n  me;  in  time,  piTliaps,  i  miji;ht 
have  yieldeil  to  the  wholt^ :  I  entered  into 
cl()ser  enuj-atj^ements  with  the  inhabitants,  and 
should  have  lived  and  died  a  wretch  amon^'-st 
them,  if  tiie  I^ord  had  not  watched  over  me 
for  {TotKl.  Not  that  1  had  lost  those  ideas 
which  chiefly  en;ja<jed  my  heart  to  Enpfland, 
but  despair  of  seeing  tiiem  accomplished 
made  me  willin"-  to  remain  where  1  was.  I 
tliourrJit  I  could  uiorc  easily  bear  the  dis- 
appointment in  this  situation,  than  nearer 
home.  But,  so  soon  as  I  had  fixed  my  con- 
nexions and  plans  with  these  views,  the 
liOrd  providentially  interposed  to  break  them 
ill  pieces,  and  save  me  from  ruin  in  spite  of 
myself. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  ship  that  had  orders 
to  brin-T  me  home  arrived  at  Sierra  Leone : 
the  captain  made  inquiry  for  me  there  and 
at  the  Benanoes ;  but  understandinij  that  I 
was  at  a  g-reat  distance  in  the  country,  he 
thoufjht  no  more  about  me.  Without  doubt 
the  hand  of  God  directed  my  being  placed 
at  Kittain  just  at  this  time ;  for,  as  the  ship 
came  no  nearer  than  the  Benanoes,  and  staid 
but  a  few  days,  if  I  had  been  at  the  Plantanes, 
I  could  not  perhaps  have  heard  of  her  till 
she  had  been  sailed.  The  same  must  have 
certainly  been  the  event,  had  I  been  sent  to 
any  other  factory,  of  which  my  new  master 
had  several  upon  different  rivers.  But  though 
the  place  I  was  at,  was  a  long  way  up  a 
river,  much  more  than  a  hundred  miles  dis- 
tant from  the  Plantanes,  yet,  by  the  peculiar 
situation  which  I  have  already  noticed,  I 
was  still  within  a  mile  of  the  sea  coast.  To 
make  the  interposition  more  remarkable,  I 
was  at  that  very  juncture  going  in  quest  of 
trade  to  a  place  at  some  distance  directly 
from  the  sea,  and  should  have  set  out  a  day 
or  two  before,  but  that  w^e  waited  for  a  few 
articles  from  the  next  ship  that,  offered,  to 
complete  the  assortment  of  goods  I  was  to 
j  take  with  me.  We  used  sometimes  to  walk 
I  to  the  heacli,  in  expectation  of  seeing  a 
•■"^sel  pass  by,  but  this  was  very  precarious, 
it  that  time  the  place  was  not  at  all  re- 
ywitoJ  to  by  ships  for  trade.  Many  passed 
in  the  night,  others  kept  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  the  shore.  In  a  word,  I  do  not 
[Know  that  any  one  had  stopped  while  I  was 
there,  though  some  had  before,  upon  observ- 
ing a  signal  made  from  the  shore.  In  Feb- 
ruary, 1747  (I  know  not  the  exact  day,)  my 


fellow  servant  walking  down  to  ihr.  In'och 
in  the  forenoon,  wiw  a  vesscd  suding  jwht, 
and  made  a  smoke  in  token  of  trade.  S/io 
was  already  a  little  b»'yon<l  the  place,  and,  an 
the  wind  was  fair,  lh(?  cajjtain  was  in  tumui 
demur  whether  to  stop  or  not:  however,  had 
my  comj)anioii  been  half  an  hour  later,  she 
would  have  gone  beyond  recal ;  but  he  wjoii 
saw  her  come  to  anchor,  and  went  on  board 
in  a  canoe:  and  this  j)r()V(;d  the  very  sliip  I 
have  spoken  of.  One  of  the  lirst  (piestionH 
he  was  asked,  was  concerning  me;  and  when 
the  cai)tain  understood  1  was  so  near,  ho 
cauH?  on  shore  to  deliver  his  message.  Had 
an  invitrition  from  home  reached  me,  when 
1  was  sick  and  starving  at  the  Plantanes,  I 
should  have  received  it  as  life  from  the  dead  ; 
but  now,  for  the  reasons  already  given,  I 
heard  it  at  first  with  indilierence.  The 
captxiin,  unwilling  to  lose  me,  told  a  story 
altogether  of  his  own  framing:  he  gave  me 
a  very  plausible  account,  how  he  had  missed 
a  large  packet  of  letters  and  ])apers,  which 
lie  should  have  brought  with  him  ;  but  this, 
he  said,  he  was  sure  of,  having  had  it  from 
my  father's  own  mouth,  as  well  as  from  his 
employer,  that  a  person  lately  dead  had  left 
me  £400  per  annum ;  adding  further,  that 
if  I  was  any  way  embarrassed  hi  my  cir- 
cumstances, he  had  express  orders  to  redeem 
me,  though  it  should  cost  one  half  of  his 
cargo.  Every  particular  of  this  was  false ; 
nor  could  I  myself  believe  what  he  said  about 
the  estate ;  but,  as  I  had  some  expectations 
from  an  aged  relation,  I  thought  a  part  of  it 
might  be  true.  But  I  was  not  long  in  sus- 
pense :  for  though  my  father's  care  and  de- 
sire to  see  me  had  too  little  weight  with  me, 
and  would  have  been  insufficient  to  make 
me  quit  my  retreat,  yet  the  remembrance  of 
Mrs.  N*****,  the  hopes  of  seeing  her,  and 
the  possibility,  that  accepting  this  ofibr  might 
once  more  put  me  in  a  way  of  gaining  her 
hand,  prevailed  over  all  other  considerations. 
The  captain  further  promised  (and  in  this  ho 
kept  his  word,)  that  I  should  lodge  m  his 
cabin,  dine  at  his  tJible,  and  be  his  constant 
companion,  without  expecting  any  service 
from  me.  And  thus  I  was  suddenly  freed  from 
a  captivity  of  about  fifteen  months.  I  had 
neither  a  thought  nor  a  desire  of  this  change 
one  hour  before  it  took  place.  I  embarked 
with  him,  and  in  a  few  hours  lost  sight  of 
Kittam. 

How  much  is  their  blindness  to  be  pitied, 
who  can  see  nothing  but  chance  in  events  of 
this  sort !  So  blind  and  stupid  was  I  at  that 
time,  I  made  no  reflection.  I  sought  no  di- 
rection in  what  had  happened ;  like  a  wave 
of  the  sea  driven  with  the  wind,  and  tossed, 
I  was  governed  by  present  appearances,  and 
looked  no  further.  But  he,  who  is  eyes  to 
the  blind,  was  leading  rne  in  a  way  that  I 
knew  not 

Now  I  am  in  some  measure  enlightened,  I 


94 


VOYAGE  FROM  CAPE  LOPEZ  FOR  ENGI^ND. 


[let.  vir. 


can  easily  perceive  that  it  is  in  the  adjust- 
ment and  concurrence  of  these  seeniin;^ly 
fortuitous  circumstances,  tliat  tiie  rulini^ 
power  and  wisdom  of  God  is  most  evidently 
displayed  in  human  affairs.  How  many  such 
casual  events  may  we  remark  in  the  his- 
tory of  Josepji,  which  had  each  a  necessary 
influence  in  his  ensuing  promotion !  If  he 
had  not  dreamed,  or  if  he  had  not  told  his 
dream  ;  if  the  I\Iidianites  liad  passed  by  a  day 
sooner  or  later  ;  if  they  had  sold  him  to  any 
person  hut  l*otiphar ;  if  his  mistress  had  been 
a  better  woman  ;  if  Pharaoh's  officers  had  not 
displeased  their  lord;  or  if  any  or  all  these 
things  had  fallen  out  in  any  other  manner  or 
time  than  they  did,  all  that  followed  had 
been  prevented :  the  promises  and  purposes 
of  God  concerning  Israel,  their  bondage,  de- 
liverances, polity,  and  settlement,  must  have 
failed  ;  and,  as  all  these  things  tended  to,  and 
centered  in  Christ,  the  promised  Saviour, 
the  desire  of  all  nations  would  not  have  ap- 
peared; mankind  had  been  still  in  their  sins, 
without  hope,  and  the  counsels  of  God's  eter- 
nal love  in  favour  of  sinners  defeated.  Thus 
we  may  see  a  connexion  between  Joseph's 
first  dream,  and  the  death  of  our  Lord  Christ, 
with  all  its  glorious  consequences.  So  strong, 
though  secret,  is  the  concatenation  between 
the  greatest  and  the  smallest  events !  What 
a  comfortable  thought  is  this  to  a  believer  to 
know,  that  amidst  all  the  various  inter- 
fering designs  of  men,  the  Lord  has  one  con- 
stant design  which  he  cannot,  will  not  miss, 
namely,  nis  own  glory  in  the  complete  sal- 
vation of  his  people;  and  that  he  is  wise, 
and  strong,  and  faithful,  to  make  even  those 
things,  which  seem  contrary  to  this  design, 
subservient  to  promote  it.  You  have  allowed 
me  to  comment  upon  my  own  text,  yet  the 
length  of  this  observation  may  need  some 
apology.  Believe  me  to  be,  with  great 
respect,  dear  sir,  your  affectionate  and 
obliged  servant. 
January  18,  1763. 


LETTER  Vn. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  ship  I  was  now  on  board 
as  a  passenger,  was  on  a  trading  voyage  for 
gold,  ivory,  dyers'  wood,  and  bees'  wax.  It 
requires  much  longer  time  to  collect  a  cargo 
of  this  sort  than  of  slaves.  The  captain 
began  his  trade  at  Gambia,  had  been  already 
four  or  five  months  in  Africa,  and  continued 
there  a  year,  or  thereabouts,  after  I  was  with 
liim;  in  which  time  we  ranged  the  whole 
coast,  as  far  as  Capo  I^opez,  which  lies  about 
a  degree  south  of  the  Ecpiinoctial,  and  more 
than  a  thousand  miles  farther  from  England 
than  the  place  where  I  embarked.  I  have 
little  to  ofTer  worthy  your  notice,  in  the 
course  of  tbia  tedious  voyage.     I  had  no 


business  to  employ  my  thoughts,  but  some- 
times amused  myself  with  mathematics  :  ex- 
cepting this,  my  whole  life,  when  awake, 
was  a  course  of  most  liorrid  impiety  and  pro- 
faneness.  I  know  not  that  I  have  ever  since 
met  so  daring  a  blasphemer :  not  content 
with  common  oaths  and  imprecations,  I  daily 
invented  new  ones ;  so  that  I  was  often  se- 
riously reproved  by  the  captain,  who  was 
himself  a  very  passionate  man,  and  not  at  all 
circumspect  in  his  expressions.  From  the 
relation  I  at  times  made  him  of  my  past  ad- 
ventures, and  what  he  saw  of  my  conduct, 
and  especially  towards  the  close  of  the 
voyage,  when  we  met  with  many  disasters, 
he  would  often  tell  me  that,  to  his  great 
grief  he  had  a  Jonah  on  board ;  that  a  curse 
attended  me  wherever  I  went ;  and  that  all 
the  troubles  he  met  with  in  the  voyage,  were 
owing  to  his  having  taken  me  into  the  vessel. 
I  shall  omit  any  further  particulars,  and  after 
mentioning  an  instance  or  two  of  the  Lord's 
mercy  to  me,  while  I  was  thus  defying  his 
power  and  patience,  I  shall  proceed  to  some- 
thing more  worthy  your  perusal. 

Although  I  lived  long  in  the  excess  of  al- 
most every  other  extravagance,  I  never  was 
fond  of  drinking ;  and  my  father  has  often 
been  heard  to  say,  that  while  I  avoided 
drunkenness,  he  should  still  entertain  hopes 
of  my  recovery.  But  sometimes  I  would 
promote  a  drinking-bout  for  a  frolic's  sake, 
as  I  termed  it :  for  though  I  did  not  love  the 
liquor,  I  was  sold  to  do  iniquity,  and  delight- 
ed in  miscliief  The  last  abominable  frolic 
of  this  sort  I  engaged  in,  was  in  the  river 
Gabon ;  the  proposal  and  expense  were  my 
own.  Four  or  five  of  us  one  evening  sat 
down  upon  deck,  to  see  who  could  hold  out 
longest  in  drinking  geneva  and  rum  alter- 
nately ;  a  large  sea-shell  supplied  the  place 
of  a  glass.  I  was  very  unfit  for  a  challenge 
of  this  sort,  for  my  head  was  always  incapa- 
ble of  bearing  much  strong  drink.  However, 
I  began  and  proposed  the  first  toast,  which,  I 
well  remember,  was  some  imprecation  against 
the  person  who  should  start  first.  This  prov- 
ed to  be  myself.  My  brain  was  soon  fired : 
I  arose  and  danced  about  the  deck  like  a 
madman;  and  while  I  was  thus  diverting 
my  companions,  my  hat  went  overboard. 
By  the  light  of  the  moon,  I  saw  the  ship's 
boat,  and  eagerly  threw  myself  over  the  side 
to  get  into  her,  that  I  might  recover  my  hat 
My  sight  in  that  circumstance  deceived  me, 
for  the  boat  was  not  within  my  reach,  as  I 
had  thought,  but  perhaps  twenty  feet  from 
the  ship's  side.  I  was,  however,  half  over 
board,  and  should  in  one  moment  more  have 
plunged  myself  into  the  water,  when  some- 
body catched  hold  of  my  clothes  behind,  and 
pulled  me  back.  This  was  an  amazing 
escape,  for  I  could  not  swim  if  I  had  been 
sober;  the  tide  ran  very  strong;  my  com- 
panions were  too  much  intoxicated  to  save 


LBT,  VII.] 


VOYACR  FROM  CAPE  LOPEZ  FOR  ENCJf.AND. 


fW 


mo;  and  tlio  rostof  tho  ship's  Odinpaiiy  won* 
asleep.  S<)  lu'iir  1  was,  t»)  iippcjiraiu-e,  of  p(>r- 
idJiinj]^  iti  lluit  tlnvulfiil  (•(uulitioii,  and  siiikinj^ 
into  eternity  under  tlie  weijrht  of  my  own 
curse ! 

Another  lime,  at  cape  I^opez,  ."^oino  of  us 
liad  been  in  the  wood.s  and  shot  a  bntfahi  or 
wild  t;ow.  We  hrounj'ht  a  p:irt  vC  it  on  Inxird, 
aiid  carefully  markeci  the  place  (as  1  thoiiirjit) 
where  we  letl  the  remainder.  In  the  even- 
ino",  we  returned  to  fetch  it;  but  we  set 
out  tcx)  late.  I  inidertcx>k  to  be  their  ijuido ; 
but  nio-ht  cominjj:  on  before  we  could  reach 
the  place,  we  lost  our  way.  Sometimes  we 
were  in  swamps  up  to  llie  middle  in  water, 
and  when  we  recovered  dry  land,  wo  could 
not  tell  whether  we  were  walkinfjf  towards 
the  ship,  or  wandering  farther  from  her. 
Every  step  increased  our  uncertainty.  The 
night  grew  darker,  and  we  were  entangled 
in  inextricable  woods,  where  perhaps  the 
foot  of  man  had  iiever  trod  before.  That 
part  of  the  country  is  entirely  abandoned  to 
wild  beasts,  with  which  it  prodigiously 
abounds.  We  were  indeed  in  a  terrible 
case,  having  neither  light,  food,  nor  arms, 
and  expecting  a  tiger  to  rush  from  behind 
every  tree.  The  stars  were  clouded,  and 
we  had  no  compass  to  form  a  judgment 
which  way  we  were  going.  Had  things  con- 
tinued thus,  we  had  probably  perished ;  but 
it  pleased  God,  no  beast  came  near  us ;  and 
after  some  hours  perplexity,  the  moon  arose 
and  pointed  out  the  eastern  quarter.  It  ap- 
peared then,  as  we  had  expected,  that  in- 
stead of  drawing  near  to, the  sea  side,  we 
had  been  penetrating  into  the  country ;  but 
by  the  guidance  of  the  moon,  we  at  length 
came  to  the  water  side,  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  the  ship.  We  got  safe  on  board, 
without  any  other  inconvenience  than  what 
we  suftered  from  fear  and  fatigue. 

Those  and  many  other  deliverances  were 
all,  at  that  time,  entirely  lost  upon  me.  The  ad- 
monitions of  conscience,  which,  from  succes- 
sive repulses,  had  grown  weaker  and  weaker, 
at  length  entirely  ceased  ;  and  for  a  space  of 
many  months,  if  not  for  some  years,  I  cannot 
recollect  that  I  had  a  single  check  of  that 
sort.  At  times  I  have  been  visited  with 
sickness,  and  have  believed  myself  near  to 
death,  but  I  had  not  the  least  concern  about 
the  consequences.  In  a  word,  I  seemed  to 
have  every  mark  of  final  impenitence  and 
rejection;  neither  judgments  nor  mercies 
made  the  least  impression  on  me. 

At  length,  our  business  finished,  we  left 
Cape  Lopez,  and  after  a  few  days  stay  at  the 
island  of  Annabcna,  to  lay  in  provisions,  we 
sailed  homeward  about  the  beginning  of  Ja- 
'  nuary  174S.  From  Annabona  to  England, 
without  touching  at  any  intermediate  port,  is 
a  very  long  navigation,  perhaps  more  than 
seven  thousand  miles,  if  we  include  the  cir- 
cuits necessary  to  be  made  on  account  of  the 


tmdo-windri.  We  suile*!  first  wi-stwnrd,  till 
near  the  c<«ist  of  Brazil,  then  northward,  to 
the  bunks  of  Nt'wfoun<lland,  with  tin;  usual 
variations  of  wind  and  weathrr,  an«l  without 
meeting  any  thing  extraordituiry.  On  tln.'so 
banks  we  stoppcii  half  a  day  to  tish  l()r  ctxl; 
this  was  then  chiclly  t'or  diversion;  w«;  liiul 
provisi«)ns  enough,  and  litth?  oxjx'ctf.'d  thoso 
fish  (as  it  afterwards  proved)  woidd  be  all 
we  should  have  to  subsi.st  on.  We  left  the 
banks  on  th«^  first  of  March,  with  a  hard  gale 
of  wind,  westerly,  which  pushed  us  fast 
homewards.  I  sliould  here  observe,  that, 
with  the  length  of  this  voyage,  in  a  hot  cli- 
mate, the  vessel  was  greatly  out  of  repair, 
and  very  unfit  to  support  stormy  weather; 
tho  sails  and  cordage  were  likewise  very 
much  worn  out,  and  many  such  circum- 
stances concurred  to  render  what  followed 
more  dangerous.  I  think  it  was  on  the 
ninth  of  March,  the  day  before  our  catastro- 
phe, that  I  felt  a  thought  pass  through  my 
mind,  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger  to. 
Among  the  few  books  we  had  on  board,  one 
was  Stanhope's  Thomas  a  Kcnipis;  I  care- 
lessly took  it  up,  as  I  had  often  done  before, 
t(5  pass  away  the  time ;  but  I  had  still  read 
it  with  the  same  uiditference  as  if  it  was  en- 
tirely a  romance.  However,  while  I  was 
readino^  this  time,  an  involuntary  suggestion 
arose  in  my  mind  :  What  if  these  things 
should  be  true  J  I  could  not  bear  the  force 
of  the  inference,  as  it  related  to  myself: 
and  therefore  shut  the  book  presently.  My 
conscience  witnessed  against  me  once  more, 
and  I  concluded  that,  true  or  false,  I  must 
abide  the  consequences  of  my  own  choice. 
I  put  an  abrupt  end  to  these  reflections,  by 
joining  in  with  some  vain  conversation  or 
other  that  came  in  my  WMy. 

But  now  the  Lord's  time  was  come,  and 
the  conviction  I  was  so  unwilling  to  receive, 
was  deeply  impressed  upon  me  by  an  awful 
dispensation.  I  went  to  bed  that  night  in 
my  usual  security  and  indifierence,  but  was 
awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  by  the  force  of 
a  violent  sea,  which  broke  on  board  us ;  so 
much  of  it  came  down  below  as  filled  the 
cabin  I  lay  in  with  water.  This  alarm  was 
followed  by  a  cry  from  the  deck,  that  the 
ship  was  going  down  or  sinking.  As  soon 
as  I  could  recover  myself,  I  essayed  to  go 
upon  deck :  but  was  met  upon  the  ladder  by 
the  captain,  who  desired  me  to  bring  a  knife 
with  me.  While  I  returned  for  the  knife, 
another  person  went  up  in  my  room,  who  was 
instantly  washed  overboard.  We  had  no 
leisure  to  lament  him,  nor  did  we  expect  to 
survive  him  long;  for  we  soon  found  the  ship 
was  filling  with  water  very  fa'^t.  The  sea 
had  torn  away  the  upper  timbers  on  one 
side,  and  made  a  mere  wreck  in  a  few  mi- 
nutes. I  shall  not  aflect  to  describe  this, 
disaster  in  marine  dialect,  which  would  be 
understood  by  few ;  and  therefore  I  can  givo 


96 


DANGER,  &:c.  IN  THE 


[let.  VIII. 


you  but  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  it  Takinpr 
in  all  circumstances,  it  was  astonishinf^,  and 
almost  miraculous,  that  any  of  us  survived  to 
relate  the  story.  We  had  immediate  re- 
course to  the  pumps  ;  but  the  water  increased 
ag'ain^t  our  etibrts.  Some  of  us  were  set  to 
balin^r  in  another  part  of  the  vessel;  that  is, 
to  lade  it  out  witli  buckets  and  pails.  We 
had  but  eleven  or  twelve  people  to  sustain 
this  service ;  and,  notwitlistanding  all  we 
could  do,  she  was  full,  or  very  near  it:  and 
then,  with  a  common  cariro,  slie  must  have 
sunk  of  course  ;  but  we  had  a  g"reat  quantity 
of  bees'  wax  and  wood  on  board,  which  were 
specifically  linhtcr  than  the  water;  and  as  it 
pleased  God  that  we  received  this  shock  in 
the  very  crisis  of  tlie  gale,  towards  morning- 
we  were  enabled  to  employ  some  means  for 
our  safety,  whicli  succeeded  beyond  hope. 
Jn  about  an  hour's  time,  the  day  began  to 
break,  and  the  wind  abated.  We  expended 
most,  of  our  clothes  and  bedding  to  stop  the 
'caks  (though  the  weather  was  exceedingly 
cold,  especially  to  us,  who  had  so  lately  lefl 
a  hot  climate  ;)  over  these  we  nailed  pieces 
of  boards,  and  at  last  perceived  the  water 
abate.  At  the  beginning  of  this  hurry,  I  was 
little  affected.  I  pumped  hard,  and  endea- 
voured to  animate  myself  and  companions : 
I  told  one  of  them,  that  in  a  few  days,  this 
distress  would  serve  us  to  talk  of  over  a  glass 
of  wine;  but  he  being  a  less  hardened  sinner 
than  myself,  replied,  with  tears,  "  No ;  it  is 
too  late  now."  About  nine  o'clock,  bein« 
almost  spent  with  cold  and  labour,  I  went  to 
speak  with  the  captain,  who  was  busied  else- 
where, and  just  as  I  was  returning  from  him, 
I  said  almost  without  any  meaning,  "  If  this 
will  not  do  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us." 
This  (though  spoken  with  little  reflection) 
was  the  first  desire  I  had  breathed  for  mercy 
for  the  space  of  many  years.  I  was  instantly 
struck  with  my  own  words;  and,  as  Jehu 
said  once,  "  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  peace.'" 
so  it  directly  occurred,  "What  mercy  can 
there  be  for  me  V  I  was  obliged  to  return 
to  the  pump,  and  there  I  continued  till  noon, 
almost  every  passing  wave  breaking  over 
my  head ;  but  we  made  ourselves  fast  with 
ropes,  that  we  might  not  be  washed  away. 
Indeed,  I  expected  that  every  time  the  ves- 
sel descended  in  the  sea,  she  would  rise  no 
more ;  and  though  I  dreaded  death  now,  and 
my  heart  foreboded  the  worst,  if  the  scrip- 
tures, which  I  had  long  since  opposed,  were 
indeed  true;  yet  still  I  was  but  half  con- 
vinced, and  remained  for  a  space  of  time  in 
a  sullen  frame,  a  mixture  of  despair  and  im- 
patience. I  thought,  if  the  Christian  religion 
was  true,  I  could  not  be  forgiven ;  and  was, 
therefore,  expecting,  and  almost,  at  times, 
wishing,  to  loiow  the  worst  of  it. — I  am 
your's,  &c. 

January  19,  1763. 


LETTER  VIII. 


DEAR  SIR, — Tne  tenth  (that  •«.  'n  the  pro- 
sent  style,  the  twenty-first)  ci  iviarch,  is  a 
day  much  to  be  remembci^d  by  me,  and  I 
have  never  suflered  it  to  pass  wholly  un- 
noticed since  the  year  1748.  On  that  day 
the  Lord  sent  from  on  high,  and  deliver- 
ed me  out  of  the  deep  waters.  I  continued 
at  the  pump  froui  three  in  the  morning  till 
near  noon,  and  then  I  could  do  no  more.  I 
went  and  lay  down  upon  my  bed,  uncertain 
and  almost  indifierent,  whether  I  should  rise 
again.  In  an  hour's  time  I  was  called,  and 
not  being  able  to  pump,  I  went  to  the  helm, 
and  steered  the  ship  till  midnight,  excepting 
a  small  interval  for  refreshment  I  had 
here  leisure  and  convenient  opportunity  for 
reflection.  I  began  to  think  of  my  former 
religious  professions;  the  extraordinary  turns 
in  my  life ;  the  calls,  warnings,  and  deliver- 
ances I  had  met  with;  the  licentious  course 
of  my  conversation,  particularly  my  unparal- 
leled efl^rontery  in  making  the  gospel  his- 
tory (which  I  could  not  now  be  sure  was 
false,  though  I  was  not  yet  assured  it  was 
true)  the  constant  subject  of  profane  ridi- 
cule. I  thought,  allowing  the  scripture 
premises,  there  never  was  nor  could  be  such 
a  sinner  as  myself;  and  then,  comparing 
the  advantages  I  had  broken  through,  I 
concluded,  at  first,  that  my  sins  were  too 
great  to  be  forgiven.  The  scripture  likewise 
seemed  to  say  the  same ;  for  I  had  formerly 
been  well  acquainted  with  the  Bible,  and 
many  passages,  upon  this  occasion,  returned 
upon  my  memory,  particularly  those  awful 
passages,  Prov.  i.  24 — 31.  Ileb.  vi.  4,  6,  and 
2  Pet  ii.  20,  which  seemed  so  exactly  to  suit 
my  case  and  character,  as  to  bring  with  them 
a  presumptive  proof  of  a  divine  original. 
Thus,  as  I  have  said,  I  waited  with  fear  and 
impatience  to  receive  my  inevitable  doom. 
Yet,  though  I  had  thoughts  of  this  kind,  they 
were  exceeding  faint  and  disproportionate. 
It  was  not  till  long  after  (perhaps  several 
years,)  till  I  had  gained  some  clear  views  of 
the  infinite  righteousness  and  grace  of  Christ 
Jesus,  my  Lord,  that  I  had  a  deep  and  strong 
apprehension  of  my  state  by  nature  and  prac- 
tice; and,  perhaps,  till  then,  I  could  not  have 
borne  the  sight  So  wonderfully  does  the  Lord 
proportion  the  discoveries  of  sin  and  grace; 
for  he  knows  our  frame,  and  that  if  he  was  to 
put  forth  the  greatness  of  his  power,  a  poor  , 
sinner  would  be  instantly  overwhelmed,  and  ' 
crushed  as  a  moth.  But  to  return :  when  I 
saw,  beyond  all  probability,  there  was  still 
hope  of  respite,  and  heard,  about  six  in  the 
evening,  that  the  ship  was  freed  from  water, 
there  arose  a  gleam  of  liope.  I  thought  I 
saw  the  hand  of  God  displayed  in  our  favour ; 
I  began  to  pray ;  I  could  not  utter  the  prayer 
of  faith ;  I  could  not  draw  near  to  a  recon- 


LKT.  VI.] 

ciled  God,  and  mil  him  fiithor :  my  prayor 
wa:i  likf  tlu>  cry  of  the  ravens  whii'h  y«'t  llic 
lionl  (Km's  ni)t  (iis<iain  to  hear.  1  now  b«';^ui 
to  think  of  that  Jesns  whom  I  had  so  otlcn 
derided:  I  recollected  tl;e  particnlars  of  his 
life  and  of  his  death  ;  a  death  for  sins  not  his 
own,  but,  as  I  remtMnbered,  for  the  sake  of 
those  who,  in  their  distress,  should  put  their 
trust  in  hun.  And  now  I  chiefly  wanted 
evidence.  The  comfortless  principles  of  in- 
ridelity  were  deeply  riveted,  and  I  rather 
wished  than  believtul  these  thin<js  were  real 
facts.  Vou  will  please  to  observe,  Sir,  that 
I  collect  the  strain  of  the  reasonings  and  e.\- 
ercises  of  my  mind  in  one  view  ;  but  I  do 
not  say  that  all  this  passed  at  one  time.  The 
threat  question  now  was,  how  to  obtain  faith. 
1  speak  not  of  an  appropriating  faith,  (of 
wiiich  I  then  knew  neither  the  nature  nor  ne- 
cessity,) but  liow  I  should  ji^ain  an  assurance 
tiiat  the  scriptures  were  of  divine  inspiration, 
and  a  sufficient  warrant  for  the  exercise  of 
trust  and  hope  in  God.  One  of  the  first  helps 
I  received,  (in  consequence  of  a  determina- 
tion to  examine  the  New  Testament  more 
carefully,)  was  from  Luke  xi.  13.  I  had 
been  sensible,  that  to  profess  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  when  in  reality  I  did  not  believe  his 
history,  was  no  better  than  a  mockery  of  the 
heart-searching-  God;  but  here  1  found  a 
Spirit  spoken  of,  which  was  to  be  communi- 
cated to  those  who  ask  it.  Upon  this  I  rea- 
soned thus  :  If  this  book  is  true,  the  promise 
in  this  passage  must  be  true  likewise;  I 
have  need  of  that  very  Spirit,  by  which  the 
whole  was  written,  in  order  to  understand  it 
aright  He  has  engaged  here  to  give  that 
Spirit  to  those  who  ask.  I  must  therefore 
pray  for  it,  and,  if  it  is  of  Gtxl,  he  will  make 
good  his  own  word.  My  purposes  were 
strengthened  by  John  vii.  17.  I  concluded 
from  thence,  that  though  I  could  not  say  from 
my  heart,  that  I  believed  the  gospel,  yet  I 
would,  for  the  present,  take  it  for  granted ; 
and  that,  by  studying  it  in  this  light,  I  should 
be  more  and  more  confirmed  in  it.  If  what 
I  am  writing  could  be  perused  by  our  mo- 
dern infidels,  they  would  say,  (for  I  too  well 
know  their  manner,)  that  I  was  very  de- 
sirous to  persuade  myself  into  this  opinion. 
I  confess  I  was,  and  so  would  they  be,  if  the 
Lord  should  show  them,  as  he  was  pleased 
to  show  me  at  that  time,  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  some  expedient  to  interpose  between 
a  righteous  God  and  a  sinful  soul.  Upon  the 
gospel  scheme  I  saw%  at  least,  a  peradventure 
of  hope,  but  on  every  otlier  side  I  was  sur- 
rounded with  black  unfathomable  despair. 

The  wind  was  now  moderate,  but  con- 
tinued fair,  and  we  were  still  drawing  nearer 
to  our  port.  We  began  to  recover  from 
our  consternation,  though  we  were  greatly 
alarmed  by  our  circumstances.  We  found 
tliat,  the  water  having  floated  all  our  move- 
ables in  the  hold,  all  the  ca^k^  of  provision 
N 


VOYAGE  FROM  CAPE  LOPEZ. 


or 


had  boon  l)onten  to  pieces  by  thn  violent  mo- 
tion of  the  ship:  on  the  other  hnrid,  our  liv« 
st(H-k,  such  as  pigs,  sheep,  und  |)oultry,  litul 
been  washed  overlioard  in  the  storm.  In 
effect,  all  the  provisions  we  savj-d,  except 
the  fish  I  have  mentioned,  and  w)m«'  flKxl  of 
the  pulse  kinil,  which  used  to  be  given  to 
the  hogs  (and  there  was  but  little  of  tliis  lefl,) 
all  our  other  provisions  would  have  subsisted 
us  but  a  week,  at  scanty  allowance.  'J'he 
sails,  t(K),  were  mostly  blown  away,  so  that 
we  advanced  but  slowly,  even  while  the  wind 
was  fair.  We  imagined  ourselves  about  a 
hundred  leagues  from  the  land,  but  were  in 
reality  much  further.  I'hus  we  proceeded 
with  an  alternate  prevalence  of  hope  and 
fear.  My  leisure  time  was  chiefly  employ- 
ed in  reading  and  meditating  on  the  scrip- 
tures, and  praying  to  the  Lord  for  mercy  and 
instruction. 

Tilings  continued  thus  for  four  or  five  days, 
or  perhaps  longer,  till  we  were  awakened 
one  morning,  by  the  joyful  shout  of  the 
watch  upon  deck,  proclaiming  the  sight  of 
land.  We  were  all  soon  raised  at  the  sound. 
The  dawning  was  uncommonly  beautiful,  and 
the  light,  (just  strong  enough  to  discover 
distant  objects)  presented  us  with  a  gladden- 
ing prospect:  it  seemed  a  mountainous  coast, 
about  twenty  miles  from  us,  terminating  in 
a  cape  or  point,  and  a  little  farther,  two  or 
three  small  islands,  or  hummucks,  as  if  just 
rising  out  of  the  water :  the  appearance  and 
position  seemed  exactly  answerable  to  our 
hopes,  resembling  the  north-west  extremity 
of  Ireland,  which  we  were  steering  for.  We 
sincerely  congratulated  each  other,  making 
no  doubt,  but  that  if  the  wind  continued,  we 
should  be  in  safety  and  plenty  the  next  day. 
The  small  remainder  of  our  brandy  (which 
was  reduced  to  little  more  than  a  pint)  was, 
by  the  captain's  orders,  distributed  amongst 
us ;  he  adding  at  the  same  time,  "  We  shall 
soon  have  brandy  enough."  We  likewise 
eat  up  the  residue  of  our  bread  for  joy  of  this 
welcome  sight,  and  were  in  the  condition  of 
men  suddenly  reprieved  from  death.  While 
we  were  thus  alert,  the  mate  with  a  graver 
tone  than  the  rest,  sunk  our  spirits  by  saying 
that,  "  he  wished  it  might  prove  land  at  last." 
If  one  of  the  common  sailors  had  first  said  so, 
I  know  not  but  the  rest  would  have  beat  him 
for  raising  such  an  unreasonable  doubt.  It 
brought  on,  however,  warm  debates  and  dis- 
putes whether  it  was  land  or  no ;  but  the 
case  was  soon  unanswerably  decided;  for 
the  day  was  advancing  fast,  and  in  a  little 
time,  one  of  our  fancied  islands  began  to 
grow  red,  from  the  approach  of  the  sun, 
which  soon  arose  just  under  it.  In  a  word, 
we  had  been  prodigal  of  our  bread  and  brandy 
too  hastily  ;  our  land  was  literally  in  nubibuSj 
nothing  but  clouds,  and  in  half  an  hour  more 
the  whole  appearance  was  dissipated.  Sea- 
men have  oflen  known  deceptions  of  this 


98 


EVENTS  IN  IRELAND,  &c. 


sort,  but  in  our  extremity  we  were  loath  to 
be  undeceived.  However,  we  comforted 
ourselves,  that  thou«^}i  we  could  not  see  the 
land,  yet  we  should  soon,  tlie  wind  hitherto 
continuing- fair;  but,  alas!  we  were  deprived 
of  this  hope  likewise.  That  very  day,  our 
fair  wind  subsided  into  a  calm,  and  the  next 
morninf^  the  gales  sprung  up  from  the  south- 
east, directly  against  us,  and  continued  so 
for  more  than  a  fortnight  afterwards.  The 
ship  was  so  wrecked,  that  we  were  obliged 
to  keep  the  wind  always  on  the  broken  side, 
unless  the  weather  was  quite  moderate  :  thus 
we  were  driven,  by  the  wind  fixing  in  that 
quarter,  still  further  from  our  port,  to  the 
northward  of  all  Ireland,  as  far  as  the  Lewis 
or  western  islands  of  Scotland,  but  a  long 
way  to  the  westward.  In  a  word,  our  station 
Was  such  as  deprived  us  of  any  hope  of  being 
relieved  by  other  vessels :  it  may,  indeed,  be 
questioned,  whether  our  ship  was  not  the 
very  first  that  had  been  in  that  part  of  the 
ocean,  at  the  same  season  of  the  year. 

Provisions  now  began  to  grow  very  short; 
the  half  of  a  salted  cod  was  a  day's  subsist- 
ence for  twelve  people ;  we  had  plenty  of 
fresh  water,  but  not  a  drop  of  stronger  liquor ; 
Tjo  bread,  hardly  any  clothes,  and  very  cold 
weather.  We  had  incessant  labour  with  the 
pumps,  to  keep  the  ship  above  water.  Much 
labour  and  little  food,  wasted  us  fast,  and  one 
man  died  under  the  hardship.  Yet  our  suf- 
ferings were  light  in  comparison  of  our  just 
fears ;  we  could  not  afford  this  bare  allow- 
ance much  longer,  but  had  a  terrible  pros- 
pect of  being  either  starved  to  death,  or  re- 
duced to  feed  upon  one  another.  Our  ex- 
pectations grew  darker  every  day,  and  I  had 
a  further  trouble  peculiar  to  myself  The 
captain,  whose  temper  was  quite  soured  by 
distress,  was  hourly  reproaching  me  (as  I 
formerly  observed)  as  the  sole  cause  of  the 
calamity,  and  was  confident  that  if  I  was 
thrown  overboard,  and  not  otherwise,  they 
should  be  preserved  from  death.  He  did  not 
intend  to  make  the  experiment,  but  continual 
repetition  of  this  in  my  ears  gave  me  much 
uneasiness,  especially  as  my  conscience  se- 
conded his  words.  I  thought  it  very  probable, 
that  all  that  had  befallen  us  was  on  my  ac- 
count I  was,  at  last,  found  out  by  the  power- 
ful hand  of  God,  and  condemned  in  my  own 
breast.  However,  proceeding  in  the  method 
I  have  described,  we  began  to  conceive  hopes 
greater  than  all  our  fears,  especially,  when 
at  the  time  we  were  ready  to  give  up  all  for 
lost,  and  despair  was  taking  place  in  every 
countenance,  we  saw  the  wind  come  about 
to  the  very  point  we  wished  it,  so  as  best  to 
suit  that  broken  part  of  the  sliip  which  must 
be  kept  out  of  the  water,  and  tx)  blow  so  gent- 
ly as  our  few  remaining  sails  could  bear;  and 
thus  it  continued  witliout  any  observable  al- 
teration or  increase,  though  at  an  unsettled 
time  of  tlie  year,  till  we  once  more  were  call- 


[let.  IX. 


ed  up  to  see  the  land,  and  were  convinced 
that  it  was  land  indeed.  We  saw  the  island 
Tory,  and  the  next  day  anchored  in  Lough 
Swilly,  in  Ireland ;  this  was  the  eighth  of 
April,  just  four  weeks  after  the  damage  was 
sustained  from  the  sea.  When  we  came 
into  this  port  our  very  last  victuals  were 
boiling  in  the  pot;  and  before  we  had  been 
there  two  hours,  the  wind,  which  seemed  to 
have  been  providentially  restrained  till  we 
were  in  a  place  of  safety,  began  to  blow  with 
great  violence,  so  that  if  we  had  continued 
at  sea  that  night  in  our  shattered,  enfeebled 
condition,  we  must,  in  all  human  appear- 
ance, have  gone  to  the  bottom.  About  this 
time  I  began  to  know  that  there  is  a  God 
that  hears  and  answers  prayer.  How  many 
times  has  he  appeared  for  me  since  this 
great  deliverance  ! — yet,  alas!  how  distrust- 
ful and  ungrateful  is  my  heart  unto  this 
hour! — I  am,  dear  sir,  your  obliged  humble 
servant. 

January  19,  1763. 


LETTER  IX. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  brought  my  history 
down  to  the  time  of  my  arrival  in  Ireland, 
1748 ;  but  before  I  proceed,  I  would  look 
back  a  little,  to  give  you  some  farther  account 
of  the  state  of  my  mind,  and  hov/  far  I  was 
helped  against  inward  difficulties,  which  be- 
set me,  at  the  time  I  had  many  outward 
hardships  to  struggle  with.  The  straits  of 
hunger,  cold,  weariness,  and  the  fears  of 
sinking  and  starving,  I  shared  in  common 
with  others ;  but  besides  these,  I  felt  a  heart- 
bitterness,  which  was  properly  my  own;  no 
one  on  board,  but  myself,  being  impressed 
with  any  sense  of  the  hand  of  God  in  our 
danger  and  deliverance,  at  least  not  awak- 
ened to  any  concern  for  their  souls.  No  tem- 
poral dispensations  can  reach  the  heart,  un- 
less the  Lord  himself  applies  them.  My 
companions  in  danger  were  either  quite  un- 
affected, or  soon  forgot  it  all ;  but  it  was  not 
so  with  me :  not  that  I  was  any  wiser  or  bet- 
ter than  they,  but  because  the  Lord  was 
pleased  to  vouchsafe  me  peculiar  mercy, 
otherwise  I  was  the  most  unlikely  person  in 
the  ship  to  receive  an  impression,  having 
been  often  before  quite  stupid  and  hardened 
in  the  very  face  of  great  dangers,  and  al- 
ways to  this  time  had  hardened  my  neck 
still  more  and  more  after  every  reproof  I 
can  see  no  reason  why  the  Lord  singled  me- 
out  for  mercy,  but  this,  "  that  so  it  seemed 
good  to  him  ;"  unless  it  was  to  show,  by  one- 
astonishing  instance,  that  with  him  "nothing- 
is  impossible." 

There  were  no  persons  on  board  to  whom 
I  could  open  myself  with  freedom,  conceniing 
the  state  of  my  soul,  none  from  whom  I  coul<t 


MT.  IX.  J 


EVENTS  IN  IREr,ANI). 


00 


aflk  iidvico.  As  t<)  IkkjUs-,  T  had  n  New  Tcs- 
taiiHMit,  Stiinliop(\  ulnvidy  inciitioucd,  and  a 
volumo  of  bishop  Mcvoridiifo'ssonnons,  onoof 
which,  upon  our  I/ord's  passion,  atVot'tc^l  iiic 
much,  in  jicriisiriij^  tho  Now  'IVstaiuoiit,  I 
was  struck  with  sovoral  jwssairos,  particular- 
ly that  of  tho  tiLr-tre(\  \m\w  xiii.  Tho  case 
of  St.  Paul,  I  'Fiiu.  i.  hut  particularly  the 
prixliiifjil,  Luko  xv.  a  case,  I  thouu^ht,  that 
had  never  boon  so  nearly  oxcnipliriod,  as  by 
myself;  and  then  the  <jfoo<lness  of  the  father 
in  receiviuiif,  nay,  in  running  to  meet  such  a 
son,  and  this  intended  only  to  illustrate  the 
Lord's  iroodness  to  returnina:  sinners, — this 
gained  u\xm  me.  I  continued  much  Ln 
prayer ;  1  saw  that  the  Lord  had  interposed 
so  far  to  save  me,  and  I  hoped  he  would  do 
more.  The  outward  circumstances  helped 
in  this  place  to  make  mc  still  more  serious 
and  earnest  in  cryin<j  to  him,  who  alone  could 
relieve  me ;  and  sometimes  I  thoujrht  I  could 
be  content  to  die,  even  for  want  of  food,  so  I 
might  but  die  a  believer.  Thus  far  I  was 
answered,  that  before  we  arrived  in  Ireland, 
I  had  a  satisfactory  evidence  in  my  own  mind 
of  the  truth  of  the  gospel,  as  considered  in 
itself,  and  its  exact  suitableness  to  answer 
all  my  needs.  I  saw  that,  by  the  way  they 
are  pointed  out,  Gcxl  might  declare  not  his 
mercy  only,  but  his  justice  also,  in  the  par- 
don of  sin  on  the  account  of  the  obedience 
and  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ.  My  judgment, 
at  that  time,  embraced  the  sublime  doctrine 
of  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  reconciling 
the  world  to  himself,""  I  had  no  idea  of  those 
systems  which  allow  the  Saviour  no  higher 
honour  than  that  of  an  upper  servant,  or,  at  the 
most,  a  demi-god.  I  stood  in  need  of  an  Al- 
mighty Saviour,  and  such  a  one  I  found  de- 
scribed in  the  New  Testament.  Thus  far 
the  Lord  had  wrought  a  marvellous  thing : 
I  was  no  longer  an  infidel ;  I  heartily  re- 
nounced my  former  profanoness,  and  I  had 
taken  up  some  right  notions,  was  seriously 
disposed,  and  sincerely  touched  with  a  sense 
of  the  undeserved  mercy  I  had  received,  in  be- 
ing brought  safe  through  so  many  dangers.  I 
was  sorry  for  my  misspent  life,  and  purposed 
an  immediate  reformation  :  I  was  quite  freed 
from  the  habit  of  swearing,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  deeply  rooted  in  me,  as  a 
second  nature.  Thus,  to  all  appearance,  I 
was  a  new  man. 

But  though  I  cannot  doubt  that  this 
change,  so  far  as  it  prevailed,  was  wrought 
by  the  Spirit  and  power  of  God,  yet  still  I 
was  greatly  deficient  in  many  respects.  I 
was  in  some  degree  affected  with  a  sense  of 
my  more  enormous  sins,  but  I  was  little 
aware  of  the  innate  evils  of  my  heart.  I  had 
no  apprehension  of  the  spirituality  and  extent 
of  the  law  of  God;  the  hidden  life  of  a  chris- 
tian, as  it  consists  in  communion  with  God  by 
Jesus  Christ,  and  a  continual  dependence  on 
liim  for  hourly  supplies  of  wisdom,  strength, 


and  comfort,  waH  a  mystery  of  which  I  had 
as  yet  no  knowledge.  I  acknowledged  the 
l/ird's  mercy  in  jwirdoning  what  was  pji>^  hut 
deperuled  chiefly  u[)om  my  own  re>olufior\  to 
do  b«'tter  for  the  time  tocotii(>.  I  had  nochriH- 
tian  friend  or  faithful  miiiiHt«'r  to  advi.-e  me, 
that  my  strength  was  no  more  than  my  righte- 
ousness; and  though  I  soon  began  to  iiifjuirf; 
f(jr  serious  books,  yet,  not  having  spiritual  dis- 
cernment,  I  frecpiently  made  a  wrong  choice, 
and  I  was  not  brought  in  the  way  of  evan- 
gelical preaching  or  conversation  (except  a 
few  times  when  I  heard  but  understood  not) 
for  six  years  after  this  pericxl.  Those  things 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  discover  to  me  gra- 
dually. I  learnt  them  here  a  little  and  there 
a  little,  by  my  own  painful  experience,  at  a 
distance  from  the  common  means  and  ordi- 
nances,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  same  course 
of  evil  company  and  bad  examples  I  had  been 
conversant  witli  for  some  time.  From  this  pe- 
riod I  could  no  more  make  a  mock  at  sin,  or  jest 
with  holy  things ;  I  no  more  questioned  the 
truth  of  scripture,  or  lost  a  sense  of  the 
rebukes  of  conscience.  Therefore  I  consider 
this  as  the  beginning  of  rny  return  to  God, 
or  rather  of  his  return  to  me ;  but  I  cannot 
consider  myself  to  have  been  a  believer  (in 
the  full  sense  of  the  word)  till  a  considerable- 
time  afterwards. 

I  have  told  you  that,  in  the  time  of  our  dis- 
tress, we  had  fresh  water  in  abundance  ;  this 
was  a  considerable  relief  to  us,  especially  as 
our  spare  diet  was  mostly  salt  fish,  without 
bread.  We  drank  plentifully,  and  were  not 
afraid  of  wanting  water ;  yet  our  stock  of 
this  likewise  was  much  nearer  to  an  end 
than  we  expected ;  we  supposed  that  we  had 
six  large  butts  of  water  on  board,  and  it  was 
well  that  we  were  safe  arrived  in  Ireland, 
before  we  discovered  that  five  of  them  were 
empty,  having  been  removed  out  of  their 
places  and  stove  by  the  violent  agitation,  when 
the  ship  was  full  of  water.  If  we  had  found 
this  out  while  we  were  at  sea,  it  would  have 
greatly  heightened  our  distress,  as  we  must 
have  drank  more  sparingly. 

While  the  ship  was  refitting  at  Lough 
Swilly,  I  repaired  to  Londonderry.  I  lodged 
at  an  exceeding  good  house,  where  I  was 
treated  with  much  kindness,  and  soon  re- 
cruited my  health  and  strength.  I  was  now 
a  serious  professor,  went  twice  a  day  to  the 
prayers  at  church,  and  determined  to  receive 
the  sacrament  the  next  opportunity.  A  few 
days  before,  I  signified  my  intention  to  the 
minister,  as  the  rubric  directs ;  but  I  found 
this  practice  was  grown  obsolete.  At  length 
the  day  came ;  I  arose  very  early,  was  very 
particular  and  earnest  in  my  private  devotion ; 
and,  with  the  greatest  solemnity,  engaged 
myself  to  be  the  Lord's  for  ever,  and  only  his. 
This  was  not  a  formal,  but  a  sincere  sur- 
render, under  a  warm  sense  of  mercies  re- 
cently received ;  and  yet,  for  want  of  a  better 


100 


ARRIVAL  IN  ENGLAND. 


[let.  X. 


knowledge  of  myself  and  the  subtilty  of 
Satan's  temptations,  I  was  seduced  to  forj^ct 
tlie  vows  of  God  tliat  were  upon  me.  Upon 
the  wliole,  thounrh  my  views  of  the  gospel 
salvation  wore  very  indistinct,  I  experienced 
a  peace  and  satisfaction  in  the  ordinance  that 
day,  to  which  I  iiad  been  liitherto  a  perfect 
strantrer. 

The  next  day  I  was  abroad  with  the  mayor 
of  the  city  and  some  other  gentlemen  a-shoot- 
ing;  I  climbed  up  a  steep  bank,  and  pulling 
my  fowling-piece  after  me,  as  I  held  it  in  a 
perpendicular  direction,  it  went  off  so  near 
my  face,  as  to  burn  away  the  corner  of  my 
hat.  Thus,  when  we  think  ourselves  in  the 
greatest  safety,  we  are  no  less  exposed  to 
dano'er  than  when  all  the  elements  seem  con- 
spiring to  destroy  us.  The  divine  providence, 
which  is  sufficient  to  deliver  us  in  our  utmost 
extremity,  is  equally  necessary  to  our  preser- 
vation in  the  most  peaceful  situation. 

During  our  stay  in  Ireland  I  wrote  home. 
The  vessel  I  was  in  had  not  been  heard  of 
for  eighteen  months,  and  was  given  up  for 
lost  long  before.  My  father  had  no  more 
expectation  of  hearing  that  I  was  alive,  but 
he  received  my  letter  a  few  days  before  he 
left  London.  He  was  just  going  out  governor 
of  York  Fort,  in  Hudson's  bay,  from  whence 
he  never  returned.  He  sailed  before  I 
arrived  in  England,  or  he  had  purposed  to 
take  me  with  him ;  but  God  designing  other- 
wise, one  hindrance  or  other  delayed  us  in 
Ireland  till  it  was  too  late.  I  received  two 
or  three  affectionate  letters  from  him,  but  I 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  more. 
I  had  hopes,  that  in  three  years  more  I  should 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  asking  his  for- 
giveness for  the  uneasiness  my  disobedience 
had  given  him ;  but  the  ship  that  was  to  have 
brought  him  home,  came  without  him.  Ac- 
cording to  the  best  accounts  we  received,  he 
was  seized  with  the  cramp  when  bathing, 
and  drowned  a  little  before  her  arrival  in  the 
bay. — Excuse  this  digression. 

My  father,  willing  to  contribute  all  in  his 
power  to  my  satisfaction,  paid  a  visit  before 
his  departure  to  my  friends  in  Kent,  and  gave 
his  consent  to  the  union  which  had  been  so 
long  talked  of     Thus,  when  I  returned  to 

,  I  found  I  had  only  the  consent  of 

one  person  to  obtain  :  with  her  I  as  yet  stood 
at  as  great  an  uncertainty  as  on  the  first  day 
I  saw  her. 

I  arrived  at in  the  latter  end  of  May, 

1748,  about  the  same  day  that  my  father  sail- 
ed from  the  Nore,  but  found  the  Lord  had 
provided  me  another  father,  in  the  gentle- 
man whose  sliip  had  brought  me  home.  He 
received  me  with  great  tenderness,  and  the 
strongest  expressions  of  friendship  and  assist- 
ance :  yet  not  more  than  he  has  since  made 
good  ;  for  to  him,  as  the  instrument  of  God's 
goodness,  I  owe  my  all.  Yet  it  would  not 
liave  been  iiitlic  pov/cr,  even  of  tliis  friend,  to 


have  served  me  e.Tectually,  if  the  Ix)rd  had 
not  met  with  me  on  my  way  home,  as  I  have 
related.  Till  then  I  was  like  the  man  possess- 
ed with  the  legion.  No  arguments,  no  per 
suasion,  no  views  of  interest,  no  remem 
brance  of  the  past,  or  regard  to  the  future, 
could  have  constrained  me  within  the  bounds 
of  common  prudence.  But  now  I  was  in 
some  measure  restored  to  my  senses.  My 
friend  immediately  offered  me  tlie  command 
of  a  ship ;  but,  upon  mature  consideration,  I 
declined  it  for  the  present.  I  had  been  hith- 
erto always  unsettled  and  careless,  and  there- 
fore thought  I  had  better  make  another  voyage 
first,  and  learn  to  obey,  and  acquire  a  farther 
insight  and  experience  in  business,  before  I 
ventured  to  undertake  such  a  charge.  The 
mate  of  the  vessel  I  came  home  in,  was  pre- 
ferred to  the  command  of  a  new  ship,  and  I 
engaged  to  go  in  the  station  of  mate  with 
him.  I  made  a  short  visit  to  London,  &,c. 
which  did  not  fully  answer  my  views.  I  had 
but  one  opportunity  of  seeing  Mrs.  ]V=*^****, 
of  which  I  availed  myself  very  little,  for  I 
was  always  exceeding  awkward  in  pleading 
my  own  cause,  viva  voce.  But  after  my  re- 
turn to  L ,  I  put  the  question  in  such 

a  manner,  by  letter,  that  she  could  not  avoid 
(unless  I  had  greatly  mistaken  her)  coming 
to  some  sort  of  an  explanation.  Her  answer, 
though  penned  with  abundance  of  caution, 
satisfied  me ;  as  I  collected  from  it,  that  she 
was  free  from  any  other  engagement,  and 
not  unwilling  to  wait  the  event  of  the  voyage 
I  had  undertaken.  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
trouble  you  with  these  little  details,  if  you  had 
not  yourself  desired  me. — I  am,  your's,  «&c. 
January  20,  1763. 


LETTER  X. 

DEAR  SIR, — My  connexions  with  sea  affairs 
have  often  led  me  to  think,  that  the  varieties 
observable  in  christian  experience  may  be 
properly  illustrated  from  the  circumstances 
of  a  voyage.  Imagine  to  yourself  a  number 
of  vessels,  at  diflerent  times,  and  from  dif- 
ferent places,  bound  to  the  same  port ;  there 
are  some  things  in  which  all  these  w^ould 
agree, — the  compass  steered  by,  the  port  in 
view,  the  general  rules  of  niivigation,  both 
as  to  the  management  of  the  vessel  and  de- 
termining their  astronomical  observations, 
would  be  the  same  in  all.  In  other  respects 
they  would  differ ;  perhaps  no  two  of  them 
would  meet  wath  the  same  distribution  of 
winds  and  weather.  Some  we  see  set  out 
with  a  prosperous  gale ;  and,  when  they  al- 
most think  their  passage  secured,  they  are 
checked  by  adverse  blasts ;  and  after  endur- 
ing much  hardship  and  danger,  and  frequent 
expectations  of  shipwreck,  they  just  escape 
and  reach  the  desired  haveu.     Others  meet 


MT.  X.] 


VOYAGE  TO  AFIIICA, 


101 


the  g^roato.«?t  diflioultied  at  first;  thoy  put 
fbrtfi  in  u  storm,  luul  aro  ollen  beaten  back; 
at  lonijtli  tht'ir  voya;;**  proves  favourable, 
and  they  enter  the  |K)rt  with  a  tx.^'?'?'^,  a 
rich  ami  abundant  eiitr;ine(\  Some  aro  hanl 
beset  with  cruisers  ami  enemies,  ami  obliged 
to  fiirlit  their  way  tlirouirh  ;  others  meet  with 
little  remarkable  in  their  passaire.  Is  it  not 
thus  in  the  spiritual  life  !  All  true  believers 
walk  by  the  s:ime  rule,  and  mind  the  same 
tliini^s.  The  word  of  Clod  is  their  compass  ; 
Jesus  is  both  their  polar  star  and  their  sun 
of  riirhtcousn(^ss ;  their  hearts  and  faces  are 
all  set  Sion-ward.  Thus  far  they  are  jis  one 
body,  animated  by  one  spirit;  yet  their  cx- 
periem-e,  formed  upon  these  common  princi- 
ples, is  far  from  bein^  uniform.  The  Lord,  in 
his  first  call,  and  his  fol low inr^  dispensations, 
has  a  re^rd  to  the  situation,  temper,  and 
taients  of  each,  and  to  the  particular  services 
or  trials  he  has  apj)ointed  them  for.  Thouoh 
all  are  exercised  at  times,  yet  some  pass 
throujjh  the  voyai^e  of  life  much  more 
smoothly  than  others.  But  ho  "  who  walk- 
eth  up<.)n  the  winijs  of  the  wind,  and  mea- 
sures the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand," 
will  not  suffer  any  of  whom  he  has  taken 
charo^e,  to  perish  in  the  storms,  though,  for 
a  season,  poriiaps,  many  of  them  are  ready 
to  give  up  all  hopes. 

We  must  not,  therefore,  make  the  experi- 
ence of  others,  in  all  respects,  a  rule  to  our- 
selves, nor  our  own,  a  rule  to  others;  yet, 
these  are  common  mistakes,  and  productive 
of  many  more.  As  to  myself,  every  part  of 
my  case  has  been  extraordinary.  I  have 
hardly  met  a  single  instance  resembling  it! 
Few,  very  few,  have  been  recovered  from 
such  a  dreadful  state  ;  and  the  few  tliathave 
been  thus  favoured,  have  generally  passed 
through  the  most  severe  convictions;  and 
after  the  Lord  has  given  them  peace,  their 
fijture  lives  have  been  usually  more  zealous, 
bright,  and  exemplary,  than  common.  Now, 
as  on  the  one  hand,  my  convictions  were 
very  moderate,  and  far  below  what  might 
have  been  expected  from  the  dreadful  review 
1  had  to  make ;  so,  on  the  other,  my  first  be- 
ginnings in  a  religious  course  were  as  faint 
as  can  be  well  imagined.  I  never  knew 
that  season  alluded  to,  Jer.  ii.  2.  Rev.  ii.  4. 
usually  called  the  time  of  the  first  love. 
Who  would  not  expect  to  hear,  that,  atler 
such  a  wonderful  unhoped-for  deliverance, 
as  I  had  received,  and,  afler  my  eyes  were 
in  some  measure  enlightened  to  see  thinirs 
aright,  I  should  immediately  cleave  to  the 
Lord  and  his  ways,  with  full  purpose  of  heart, 
and  consult  no  more  with  flesh  and  blood  ? 
But,  alas  !  it  was  far  otherwise  with  me :  I 
had  learned  to  pray  ;  I  set  some  value  upon 
the  word  of  God,  and  was  no  longer  a  liber- 
tine ;  but  my  soul  still  cleaved  to  the  dust. 

Soon   afler   my    departure   from    L ,   I 

began  to  intermit,  and  grow  slack  in  waiting 


upon  the  IxDfd  ;  I  grew  vnin  and  triflmg  in 
my  convors^ifiim ;  and  though  my  heart 
smote  m»»  often,  yet  my  iirmour  wax  gone, 
and  I  declined  last;  and  by  th(?  lime  I 
arrived  at  (luinea,  I  Keem<'d  to  hav«!  for- 
gotten all  the  Lord's  mercies,  and  my  own 
engagements,  and  was  (j)roliinenesH  except- 
ed) almost  as  bad  as  lu'tore.  'J'Im;  enemy 
prepared  a  train  of  tem|)tations,  and  I  be- 
c^ime  his  ea.sy  prey  ;  nnd,  for  about  a  month, 
hv.  lulled  me  asleep  in  a  course  of  evil,  of 
which,  a  few  months  before,  I  could  n(jt  have 
sup|)osed  myself  any  longer  capable.  How 
nnich  propriety  is  there  in  the  apostle's  atl- 
vice,  "Take  heed  lest  any  of  you  be  luirden- 
ed  through  the  dcccitfulness  of  sin."  O, 
who  can  be  sufficiently  upon  their  guard  ! 
Sin  first  deceives,  and  then  it  hardens.  I 
was  now  fast  bound  in  chains ;  I  had  little 
desire,  and  no  jxiwer  at  all  to  recover  myself. 
I  could  not  but  at  times  reflect  how  it  was 
with  me:  but,  if  I  attempted  to  struggle 
with  it,  it  was  in  vain.  I  was  just  like  Sam- 
son, when  he  said,  "  I  will  go  forth  and  shake 
myself  as  at  other  times  ;"  but  the  lx)rd  was 
departed,  and  he  found  himself  helpless  in 
the  hands  of  his  enemies.  By  the  remem- 
brance of  this  interval,  the  Lord  has  often 
instructed  me  since,  what  a  poor  creature  I 
am  in  myself,  incapable  of  standing  a  single 
hour  without  continual  fresh  supplies  of 
strength  and  grace  from  the  fountain  head. 

At  length  the  Lord,  whose  mercies  are  in- 
finite, interposed  in  my  behalf  My  business 
in  this  voyage,  while  upon  the  coast,  was  to 
sail  from  place  to  place  in  the  long-boat  to 
purchase  slaves.  The  ship  was  at  Sierra 
Leone,  and  I  then  at  the  Plantanes,  the  scene 
of  my  former  captivity,  where  every  thing  I 
saw  might  seem  to  remind  me  of  my  ingrati- 
tude, i  was  in  easy  circumstances,  courted 
by  those  who  formerly  despised  me.  The 
lime  trees  I  had  planted  were  grown  tall,  and 
promised  fruit  the  following  year;  against 
which  time  I  had  expectations  of  returning 
with  a  ship  of  my  own.  But  none  of  these 
things  affected  me,  till,  as  I  have  said,  the 
I^rd  again  interposed  to  save  me.  He 
visited  me  with  a  violent  fever,  which  broke 
the  fatal  chain,  and  once  more  brought  me 
to  myself  But,  O  what  a  prospect !  I  thought 
myself  now  summoned  away.  ]My  past  dan- 
gers and  deliverances,  my  earnest  prayers 
in  the  time  of  trouble,  my  solemn  \ows  be- 
fore the  Lord  at  his  table,  and  my  ungrateful 
returns  for  all  his  goodness  were  all  present 
to  my  mind  at  once.  Then  I  began  to  wish 
that  the  Lord  had  suffered  me  to  sink  mto 
the  ocean,  when  I  first  besought  his  mercy. 
For  a  little  while  I  concluded  the  door  of 
hope  to  be  quite  sluit ;  but  this  continued  not 
long.  Weak,  and  almost  delirious,  I  arose 
from  my  bed,  and  crept  to  a  retired  part 
of  the  island ;  and  here  I  found  a  renewed 
liberty  to    pray.     I    durst  make   no  more 


[ 


102 


VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 


\  LFr.  XL 


resolves,  but  cast  myself  before  the  Lord,  to  do 
with  me  as  he  slioiild  please.  I  do  not  re- 
member that  any  particular  text,  or  remark- 
able discovery,  was  presented  to  my  mind ; 
but  in  general  I  was  enabled  to  hope  and 
believe  in  a  crucified  Saviour.  The  burden 
was  removed  from  my  conscience,  and  not 
only  my  peace,  but  my  health  was  restored  ; 
I  cannot  say  instantaneously,  but  I  recovered 
from  that  hour ;  and  so  fast,  that  when  I  re- 
turned to  the  ship,  two  days  afterwards,  I 
was  perfectly  well  before  I  g-ot  on  board. 
And  from  that  time,  I  trust,  I  have  been  de- 
livered from  the  power  and  dominion  of  sin; 
though,  as  to  tiie  effects  and  conflicts  of  sin 
dwelling  in  me,  I  still "  groan,  being  burden- 
ed." I  now  began  again  to  wait  upon  the 
Lord ;  and  though  I  have  often  grieved  his 
Spirit,  and  foolishly  v.'andered  from  him 
since,  (when,  alas !  shall  I  be  more  wise  ?) 
yet  his  powerful  grace  has  hitlierto  preserv- 
ed mo  from  such  black  declensions  as  this  I 
.lave  last  recorded;  and  I  humbly  trust  in 
his  mercy  and  promises,  that  he  will  be  my 
guide  and  guard  to  the  end. 

My  leisure  hours  in  tliis  voyage  were 
chiefly  employed  in  learning  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, which  I  had  now  entirely  forgot.  This 
desire  took  place  from  an  imitation  I  had 
seen  of  one  of  Horace's  odes  in  a  magazine. 
I  began  the  attempt  under  the  greatest  dis- 
advantages possible ;  for  I  pitched  upon  a 
poet,  perhaps  the  most  difficult  of  the  poets, 
even  Horace  himself,  for  my  first  book.  I 
had  picked  up  an  old  English  translation  of 
him,  which,  with  Castalio's  Latin  Bible,  were 
all  my  helps.  I  forgot  a  Dictionary ;  but  1 
would  not  therefore  give  up  my  purpose.  I 
had  the  edition  in  iisum  Delphini,  and  by 
comparing  the  Odes  with  the  interpretation, 
and  tracing  the  words,  I  could  understand 
from  one  place  to  another,  by  the  index,  with 
the  assistance  I  could  get  from,  the  Latin 
Bible;  in  this  way,  by  dint  of  hard  industry, 
often  waking  when  I  might  have  slept,  I 
made  some  progress  before  I  returned,  and 
not  only  understood  the  sense  and  meaning 
of  many  Odes,  and  some  of  the  Epistles, 
but  began  to  relish  the  beauties  of  the  com- 
position, and  acquire  a  spice  of  what  ]\Ir. 
Law  calls  classical  enthusiasm.  And,  indeed, 
by  this  means,  I  had  Horace  more  ad  un- 
guem  than  some  who  are  masters  of  the  Latin 
tongue;  for  my  helps  were  so  few,  that  I  ge- 
nerally had  the  passage  fixed  in  my  memory, 
before  I  could  fully  understand  its  meaning. 

My  business  in  the  long-boat,  during  the 
eight  months  we  were  upon  the  coast,  ex- 
posed me  to  innumerable  dangers  and  perils, 
from  burning  suns,  and  cliilling  dews,  winds, 
rains,  and  thunder-storms,  in  tiie  open  boat ; 
and  on  sjiore,  from  long  journeys  through  the 
woodr-,  and  the  temper  of  the  natives,  who 
are,  in  many  places,  cruel,  treacherous,  and 
watching  opportunities  for  mischief    Several 


boats  in  the  same  time  were  cut  oflT;  several 
white  men  poisoned,  and,  in  my  own  boat 
I  buried  six  or  seven  people  with  fevers. 
When  going  on  shore,  or  returning  from  it, 
in  their  little  canoes,  I  have  been  more  than 
once  or  twice  overset  by  the  violence  of  the 
surf,  or  break  of  the  sea,  and  brought  to  land 
half  dead  (for  1  could  not  swim.)  An  account 
of  such  escapes  as  I  still  remembt  f,  would 
swell  to  several  sheets,  and  many  more  I  have 
perhaps  forgot;  I  shall  only  select  one  uistance, 
as  a  specimen  of  that  wonderful  providence 
which  watched  over  me  for  good,  and  which, 
I  doubt  not,  you  will  think  worthy  of  notice. 

When  our  trade  was  finished,  and  we  were 
near  sailing  to  the  West  Indies,  the  only  re- 
maining service  I  had  to  perform  in  the  boat, 
was  to  assist  in  bringing  the  wood  and  water 
from  the  shore.  We  were  then  at  Rio  Ces- 
tors.  I  used  to  go  into  the  river  in  the  after- 
noon, with  the  sea  breeze,  procure  my  load 
ing  in  tiie  evening,  and  return  on  board  in 
the  morning,  with  the  land  wind.  Several 
of  these  little  voyages  I  had  made ;  but  the 
boat  was  grown  old,  and  almost  unfit  for  use. 
This  service  likewise  was  almost  completed. 
One  day  having  dined  on  board,  I  was  pre 
paring  to  return  to  the  river,  as  formerly;  J 
had  taken  leave  of  the  captain,  received  hiii 
orders,  was  ready  in  the  boat,  and  just  go 
ing  to  put  off",  as  we  term  it ;  that  is,  to  lei 
go  our  ropes  and  sail  from  the  ship.  In  that 
instant,  the  captain  came  up  from  the  cabin, 
and  called  me  on  board  again.  I  went,  er. 
pecting  further  orders ;  but  he  said  he  hai'' 
"taken  it  in  his  head"  (as  he  phrased  it,) 
that  I  should  remain  that  day  in  the  ship, 
and  accordingly  ordered  another  man  to  go 
in  my  room.  I  was  surprised  at  this,  as  the 
boat  had  never  been  sent  away  without  me 
before ;  and  asked  him  the  reason.  He  could 
give  me  no  reason,  but  as  above,  that  so  he 
would  have  it.  Accordingly,  the  boat  went 
without  me,  but  returned  no  more.  She  sunk 
that  night  in  the  river,  and  the  person  who 
had  supplied  my  place  was  drowned.  I  was 
much  struck  when  we  received  news  of 
the  event  the  next  morning.  The  captam 
himself,  tliough  quite  a  stranger  to  religion, 
so  far  as  to  deny  a  particular  providence, 
could  not  help  being  affected;  but  he  de- 
clared, that  he  had  no  other  reason  for  coun- 
termanding me  at  that  time,  but  that  it 
came  suddenly  into  liis  mind  to  detain  me. 
I  wonder  I  omitted  it  in  my  eight  letters,  as 
I  have  always  thought  it  one  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary circumstances  of  my  life.  I  am, 
dear  sir,  your  humble  servant. 

January  21,  1763. 


LETTER  XI. 

DEAR  SIR, — A  few  days  after  I  was  thua 
wonderfully  saved  from  an  unforeseen  danger, 


UET.  XI. 


RirrURN  TO  ENGLAND,  &.C. 


103 


wo  snilod  for  Antiijim,  and  from  ihonco  pro- 
ceotl(»d  to  Charloston,  in  South  Carolina.  In 
this  place  thoro  are  many  serious  peojjle ; 
but  I  knew  not  how  to  find  them  out.  In- 
deed, I  was  not  aware  of  a  diderenet*;  hut 
bup|K).s(>d  tliat  all  who  attended  |)uhlic  wor- 
nhip  were  fifcKxl  ehristians.  1  was  as  much 
in  tlitMlark  al)out  preachin<»',  not  doubtin<if  hut 
wliatever  came  from  the  pulj^it  must  ho  very 
Pfivxi.  I  hud  two  or  three  oi)|)ortunities  of 
hoarin^^  a  dissentinuf  minister,  nan)eil  Smith, 
wiio,  by  what  I  have  known  since,  1  believe 
to  have  been  an  excellent  and  powerful 
preacher  of  the  g-ospel ;  and  there  was  some- 
thinc'' in  his  manner  that  struck  me;  but  I 
did  not  rifjhtly  understand  him.  The  best 
words  that  men  can  s|)eak  are  inefVectual, 
till  explained  and  applied  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  who  alone  can  open  the  heart.  It 
pleased  the  Lord  for  some  time,  that  I  should 
learn  no  more  than  what  he  enabled  me  to 
collect  from  my  own  experience  and  reflec- 
tion. My  conduct  was  now  very  inconsist- 
ent. Ahnost  every  day,  when  business  would 
permit,  I  used  to  retire  into  the  woods  and 
fields  (tor  these,  when  at  hand,  have  always 
been  my  favourite  oratories;)  and  I  trust  I 
benran  to  taste  the  sweets  of  communion  witii 
God,  in  the  exercises  of  prayer  and  praise, 
and  yet  I  frequently  spent  the  evening-  in 
vain  and  worthless  company.  Indeed,  my 
relish  for  worldly  diversions  was  much 
weakened,  and  I  was  rather  a  spectator  than 
a  sharer  in  their  pleasures ;  but  I  did  not  as 
yet  see  the  necessity  of  an  absolute  forbear- 
ance. Yet,  as  my  compliance  with  custom 
and  company  was  chiefly  owino^  to  want  of 
lig-ht,  rather  than  to  an  obstinate  attachment, 
and  the  I^rd  was  pleased  to  preserve  me 
from  what  I  knew  was  sinful,  I  had,  for  the 
most  part,  peace  of  conscience,  and  my 
strongest  desires  were  towards  the  thin<xs  of 
God.  As  yet  I  knew  not  the  force  of  that 
precept,  "Abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil,"  but  very  often  ventured  upon  the  brink 
of  temptation ;  but  the  Lord  was  gracious  to 
my  weakness,  and  would  not  suffer  the  ene- 
my to  prevail  against  me.  I  did  not  break 
with  the  world  at  once  (as  might,  in  my 
case,  have  been  expected,)  but  I  was  gradu- 
ally led  to  see  the  inconvenience  and  folly 
of  one  thing  after  another,  and,  when  I  saw 
it,  the  Lord  strengthened  me  to  give  it  up. 
But  it  was  some  years  before  I  was  set  quite 
at  liberty  from  occasional  compliance  in 
many  things  in  wliicli,  at  this  time,  I  dare  by 
iio  means  allow  myself. 

We  finished  cur  voyage,  and  arrived  in 
L .  When  the  ship's  affairs  were  set- 
tled, I  went  to  London,  and  from  thence  (as 
you  may  suppose)  I  soon  repaired  to  Kent. 
More  than  seven  years  were  now  elapsed 
since  my  first  visit.  No  views  of  the  kind 
could  seem  more  chimerical,  or  could  subsist 
under  great  discouragements,  than  mine  had 


done;  yet,  through  the  over-ruling  gfKxlnonii 
ofCiod,  whih;  f  Hfemfd  nlmndoned  to  myMclf, 
and  blindly  f()ll()wing  my  own  ptm-sioriH,  I 
was  guided,  by  a  hand  that  I  know  not,  to 
the  accomplishment  of  my  wishoH.  Kvery 
obstacle^  was  now  removed.  I  had  renounced 
my  former  follies,  my  intere.'-t  was  establiHh- 
ed,  and  friends  on  all  sides  consenting,  the 
point  was  now  entirely  bctw(!en  ourselves, 
and  after  what  liad  pass(?d,  was  easily  con- 
cludi'd.  Accordingly,  our  hands  were  joined 
on  the  first  of  February  17')(). 

The  satisfaction  I  have  found  in  this  union, 
you  will  suppose,  has  been  greatly  heighten- 
ed by  reflections  on  the  former  disagreeable 
contrasts  I  had  passed  tlirough,  and  the 
views  I  have  had  of  the  singular  mercy  and 
providence  of  tlie  Lord  in  bringing  it  to  pass. 
If  you  please  to  look  back  to  tlie  beginning 
of  my  sixth  letter,  I  doubt  not  but  you  will 
allow  that  few  persons  have  known  more, 
either  of  the  misery  or  liappiness,  of  which 
human  life  (as  considered  in  itself)  is  capa- 
ble. How  easily,  at  a  time  of  life  when  I 
was  so  little  capable  of  judging  (but  a  few 
months  more  than  seventeen,)  might  my  af- 
fections have  been  fixrd  where  they  could 
have  met  with  no  return,  or  where  success 
would  have  been  the  heaviest  disappointment. 
The  long  delay  I  met  with  was  likewise  a 
mercy;  for,  had  I  succeeded  a  year  or  two 
sooner,  before  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  change 
my  heart,  we  must  have  been  mutually  un- 
happy, even  as  to  the  present  life.  Surely 
goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all 
my  days. 

But  alas !  I  soon  began  to  feel  that  my 
heart  was  still  hard  and  ungrateful  to  the 
God  of  my  life.  This  crowning  mercy, 
which  raised  me  to  all  I  could  ask  or  wish 
in  a  temporal  view,  and  which  ought  to  have 
been  an  animating  motive  to  obedience  and 
praise,  had  a  contrary  effect.  I  rested  in 
the  gift:,  and  forgot  the  giver.  My  poor  nar- 
row heart  was  satisfied.  A  cold  and  care- 
less frame,  as  to  spiritual  things,  took  place, 
and  gained  ground  daily.  Happy  for  me, 
the  season  was  advancing,  and  m  June  I  re- 
ceived orders  to  repair  to  L .     This 

roused  me  from  my  dream.  I  need  not  tell 
you,  that  I  found  the  pains  of  absence  and 
separation  fully  proportioned  to  my  preced- 
ing pleasure.  It  was  hard,  very  liard,  to  part, 
especially  as  conscience  interfered,  and  sug- 
gested to  me  how  little  I  deserved  that  we 
should  be  spared  to  meet  again.  But  the  Lord 
supported  me.  I  was  a  poor  faint  idolatrous 
creature ;  but  I  had  now  some  acquaintance 
with  the  way  of  access  to  a  throne  of  grace, 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  peace  was  soon 
restored  to  my  conscience.  Yet,  through  all 
the  following  voyage,  my  irregular  and  ex- 
cessive affections  were  as  thorns  m  my  eyes, 
and  often  made  my  other  blessings  tasteless 
and  insipid.     But  He,  who  doth  all  things 


^5—5 


lot 


VOYAGE  TO  AHIICA. 


[let.  XI. 


"^N'ell,  over-ruietl  tiiis  likewise  for  good.  It 
became  an  occasion  of  quickening'  me  in 
prayer,  both  for  her  and  myself;  it  increased 
my  indirterence  for  company  and  amusement; 
it  habituated  me  to  a  kind  of  voluntary  self- 
denial,  which  I  was  afterwards  taught  to 
improve  to  a  better  purpose. 

While  I  remained  in  En<]^]and,  we  corres- 
ponded every  post;  and  all  the  while  I  used 
the  sea  afterwards,  I  constantly  kept  up  the 
practice  of  vvritinir  two  or  three  times  a  week 
(if  weather  and  business  permitted,)  thoug-h 
no  conveyance  homeward  offered  for  six  or 
eight  months  together.  My  packets  were 
usually  heavy;  and  as  not  one  of  them  at 
any  time  miscarried,  I  have  to  the  amount 
of  nearly  two  hiindred  sheets  of  paper  now 
lying  in  my  bureau  of  that  correspondence. 
I  mention  this  little  relief  I  had  contrived  to 
soften  the  intervals  of  absence,  because  it 
had  a  good  effect  beyond  my  first  intention. 
It  habituated  me  to  think  and  write  upon  a 
great  variety  of  subjects;  and  I  acquired,  in- 
sensibly, a  greater  readiness  of  expressing 
myself,  than  I  should  have  otherwise  attain- 
ed. As  I  gained  more  ground  in  religious 
knowledge,  my  letters  became  more  serious, 
and,  at  times,  I  still  find  an  advantage  in 
looking  them  over,  especially  as  they  remind 
me  of  many  providential  incidents,  and  the 
state  of  my  mind  at  different  periods  in  these 
voyages,  which  would  otherwise  have  esca- 
ped my  memory. 

I  sailed  from  L in  August  1750, 

commander  of  a  good  ship.  I  have  no  very- 
extraordinary  events  to  recount  from  this 
period,  and  shall,  therefore,  contract  my  me- 
moirs, lest  I  become  tedious ;  yet  I  am  will- 
ing to  give  you  a  brief  sketch  of  my  history 
down  to  175o,  the  year  of  my  settlement  in 
my  present  situation.  I  had  now  the  com- 
mand and  care  of  thirty  persons ;  I  endea- 
voured to  treat  them  with  humanity,  and  to 
set  them  a  good  example.  I  likewise  es- 
tablished public  worship,  according  to  the 
liturgy,  twice  every  Jx)rd's  day,  officiating 
myself  Farther  than  this  I  did  not  proceed, 
while  I  continued  in  that  employment. 

Having  now  much  leisure,  I  prosecuted 
the  study  of  the  I^tin  with  good  success.  I 
remembered  a  dictionary  this  voyage,  and 
procured  two  or  three  other  books  ;  but  still 
it  was  my  liap  to  choose  the  hardest.  I  ad- 
ded Juvenal  to  Horace;  and,  for  prose  au- 
thors, I  pitchod  upon  Livy,  Caesar,  and  Sal- 
lust.  You  will  easily  conceive.  Sir,  that  I 
had  hard  work  to  begin  (where  I  should 
have  led  off)  with  Horace  and  Livy.  I  was 
not  aware  of  the  difference  of  style ;  I  had 
heard  Livy  highly  commended,  and  was  re- 
solved to  understand  him.  I  began  with  the 
first  page,  and  laid  down  a  rule,  which  I 
seldom  departed  from,  not  to  proceed  to  a 
second  period  till  I  understood  the  first,  and 
so  on.     I  was  often  at  a  stajid,  but  seldom  dis- 


couraged ;  here  and  there  I  found  a  few  lines 
quite  obstinate,  and  was  forced  to  break  in 
upon  my  rule,  and  gave  them  up,  especially 
as  my  edition  had  only  the  text,  without  any 
notes  to  assist  me.  But  there  were  not 
many  such ;  for,  before  the  close  of  that  voy- 
age, I  could  (with  a  few  exceptions)  read 
Livy  from  end  to  end,  almost  as  readily  as 
an  English  author.  And  I  found,  in  sur- 
mounting this  difficulty,  I  had  surmounted 
all  in  one.  Other  prose  authors,  when  they 
came  in  my  way,  cost  me  little  trouble.  In 
short,  in  the  space  of  two  or  three  voyages, 
I  became  tolerably  acquainted  with  the  best 
clas-sics  (I  put  all  I  have  to  say  upon  this 
subject  together;)  I  read  Terence,  Virgil, 
and  several  pieces  of  Cicero,  and  the  modern 
classics,  Buchanan,  Erasmus,  and  Cassimir. 
At  length  I  conceived  a  design  of  becoming 
Ciceronian  myself,  and  thought  it  would  be 
a  fine  thing  indeed  to  write  pure  and  elegant 
latin.  I  made  some  essays  towards  it,  but 
by  this  time,  tlie  Lord  was  pleased  to  draw 
me  nearer  to  himself,  and  to  give  me  a  fuller 
view  of  the  "pearl  of  great  price,"  the 
inestimable  treasure  hid  in  the  field  of  the 
holy  scriptures ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  this,  I 
was  made  willing  to  part  with  all  my  newly 
acquired  riches.  I  began  to  think  that  life 
was  too  short  (especially  my  life)  to  admit 
of  leisure  for  such  elaborate  trifling.  Neither 
poet  nor  historian  could  tell  me  a  word  of 
Jesus,  and  I  therefore  applied  myself  to  those 
who  could.  The  classics  were  at  first  re- 
strained to  one  morning  in  the  week,  and  at 
length  quite  laid  aside.  I  have  not  looked 
into  Livy  these  five  years,  and  I  suppose 
I  could  not  well  understand  him.  Some 
passages  in  Horace  and  Virgil  I  still  admire, 
but  they  seldom  come  in  my  way.  I  prefer 
Buchanan's  Psalms  to  a  whole  shelf  of  Elze- 
virs. But  thus  much  I  have  gained,  and 
more  than  t'nis  I  am  not  solicitous  about,  so 
much  of  the  Latin  as  enables  me  to  read  any 
useful  or  curious  book  that  is  published  in 
that  language.  About  the  same  time,  and 
for  the  same  reason  that  I  quarrelled  with 
Livy,  I  laid  aside  the  mathematics.  I  found 
they  not  only  cost  me  much  time,  but  en- 
grossed my  thoughts  too  far :  mj'-  head  was 
literally  full  of  scheifies.  I  was  weary  of 
cold  contemplative  truths,  which  can  neither 
warm  nor  amend  the  heart,  but  rather  tend 
to  aggrandize  self  I  found  no  traces  of  this 
wisdom  in  the  life  of  Jesus,  or  the  writings 
of  Paul.  I  do  not  regret  tliat  I  have  had 
some  opportunities  of  knowing  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  these  things ;  but  I  see  much  cause 
to  praise  the  Lord,  that  he  inclined  me  to 
stop  in  time ;  and  that  whilst  I  was  "  spend- 
ing my  labour  for  that  which  is  not  bread," 
he  was  pleased  to  set  before  me  "  wine  and 
milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 

]\Iy   first   voyage   was   fourteen   months^ 
through  various  scenes  of  danger  and  difli 


LBT.  XII. "1 


ANOTIIKR  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 


culty,  hut  iiotliiiij^  vrry  rciimrkablc  ;  nnd  ti'^ 
I  iiitond  to  he  moro  particular  with  n'l^rnnl  to 
tlie  socDiul,  I  sli'ill  only  say  tint  I  was  prc- 
sorvod  tVimi  **v»'ry  harm;  and  haviu?  Hfcn 
many  tUU  on  my  rij^ht  liand  and  on  my  h't>, 
I  was  hroii<2^ht  homo  in  juvu'o,  and  n-storcd 
to  whoro  my  thoui,''hts  had  broii  otlen  dircct- 
od,  NovomlMT  2,  17")1. — I  am,  yoiir's,  &lc. 
Januanj  2*2,  1701  J. 


LETTER  XII. 

DE\R  SIR, — I  almost  wish  I  could  recall 
my  last  sheet,  and  retract  my  promise.  I 
fear  I  have  enfrafrod  too  tar,  and  shall  prove 
a  mere  ef^otist.  What  have  I  more  that  can 
deserve  your  notice?  However,  it  is  some 
satisfaction  that  I  am  now  writinf]^  to  yourself' 
only ;  and  I  believe,  you  will  have  candour 
to  excuse,  what  nothini;  but  a  sense  of  your 
kindness  could  extort  from  me. 

Soon  after  the  period  where  my  last  closes, 
that  is,  in  the  interval  between  my  first  and 
second  voyajj^e  after  my  marriajT-e,  I  berran 
to  keep  a  sort  of  diary,  a  practice  which  I 
have  found  of  orrcat  use.  I  had,  in  this  in- 
terval, repeated  proofs  of  the  ing'ratitude  and 
evil  of  my  heart.  A  life  of  ease,  in  the  midst 
of  my  friends,  and  a  full  satisfaction  of  my 
wishes,  was  not  favourable  to  the  progress 
of  grace,  and  afforded  cause  of  daily  humilia- 
tion. Yet,  upon  the  whole,  I  g-ained  cfround. 
I  became  acquainted  with  books,  which  gave 
me  a  further  view  of  christian  doctrine  and 
experience,  particularly  Scougal's  Life  of 
God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,  Hervey's  Medita- 
tions, and  the  Life  of  Colonel  Gardiner.  As 
to  preaching,  I  heard  none  but  of  the  common 
sort,  and  had  hardly  an  idea  of  any  better ;  nei- 
ther had  I  the  advantage  of  christian  acquaint- 
ance ;  I  was  likewise  greatly  hindered  by  a 
cowardly  reserved  spirit ;  I  was  afraid  of  being 
thought  precise ;  and,  though  I  could  not  live 
without  prayer,  I  durst  not  propose  it,  even  to 
mv  wife,  till  she  herself  first  put  me  upon  it; 
so  far  was  I  from  those  expressions  of  zeal  and 
love, which  seemed  so  suitable  to  the  case  of 
one  who  has  had  much  forgiven.  In  a  few 
months  the  returning  season  called  me  abroad 

again,  and  I  sailed  from  L in  a  new 

ship,  July  1752. 

A  sea-faring  life  is  necessarily  excluded 
from  the  benefit  of  public  ordinances  and 
christian  communion;  but,  as  I  have  ob- 
served, my  loss  upon  these  heads  was  at  this 
time  but  small.  In  other  respects,  I  know 
not  any  calling  that  seems  more  favourable, 
I  or  affords  greater  advantages  to  an  awaken- 
I  cd  mind,  for  promoting  the  life  of  God  in  the 
soul,  especially  to  a  person  who  has  the  com- 
mand of  a  ship,  and  thereby  has  it  in  his 
power  to  restrain  gross  irregularities  in 
others,  and  to  dispose  of  his  own  time ;  and 
O 


ifin  more  so  in  Afri<'an  voyrigcK,  n.s  thcfo 
fihii^*  carry  adouhh-  prctjHJrtinnofmfii  andofli- 
ciTs  to  most  othtTH,  whicii  xwiuW  rny  di'ixirl- 
ment  very  easy  ;  and,  e.vceptinj;  the  hurry  of 
trade,  &c.  ujK)n  the  coast,  which  in  ralluT 
occasional  than  constant,  allordi-d  me  abun- 
dat:ce  of  leisure.  To  be  at  wa  in  thew!  cir- 
cumstances, withdrawn  out  of  the  reach  of 
innumerable  temptations,  with  opportunity 
and  a  turn  of  miml  disposed  tf)  observe  the 
wonders  of  VuA  in  tlu;  great  deep,  with  the 
two  noblest  objects  of  sight,  the  expanded 
heavens,  and  the  expanded  ocean,  continual- 
ly in  view;  and  where  evident  inter|)ositionH 
of  Divine  Providence,  in  answer  to  prayer, 
occur  almost  every  day ;  these  are  helps  to 
(luicken  and  confirm  the  life  of  faith,  which, 
in  a  good  measure,  supply  to  a  religious  sjiilor 
the  want  of  those  advantages  which  can  be 
only  enjoyed  upon  the  shore.  And,  indeed, 
though  my  knowledge  of  spiritual  things  (as 
knowledge  is  usually  estimated)  was,  at  this 
time,  very  small,  yet  I  sometimes  look  back 
with  regret  upon  those  scenes.  I  never 
knew  sweeter  or  more  frequent  hours  of  di- 
vine communion  than  in  my  two  last  voyages 
to  Guinea,  when  I  was  either  almost  seclud- 
ed from  society  on  ship-board,  or  when  on 
shore  among  the  natives,  1  have  w^andered 
through  the  woods,  reflecting  on  the  singular 
goodness  of  the  Lord  to  me,  in  a  place  where, 
perhaps,  there  was  not  a  person  who  knew 
him  for  some  thousand  miles  round  me. 
Many  a  time,  upon  these  occasions,  I  have 
restored  the  beautiful  lines  of  Propertius  to 
the  right  owner  ;  lines  full  of  blasphemy  and 
madness,  when  addressed  to  a  creature,  but 
full  of  comfort  and  propriety  in  the  mouth 
of  a  believer. 

Sic  ego  desertis  po^sim.  bene  vivere  si/lvis 
Quo  nulla  liumano  sit  via  trita  pcde ; 

Tu  mi  hi  curarum  requics,  in  node  velatra 
Lumen,  ei  m  soUs  tu  mihi  turba  loeis. 

PARAPHRASED. 

In  desert  woods  with  thee,  my  God, 
Where  human  footsteps  never  trod, 

How  happy  could  I  be  ! 
Thou  my  repose  from  care,  my  light 
Amidst  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
j  In  solitude  my  company. 

In  the  course  of  this  voyage,  I  was  wonder- 
fully preserved  in  the  midst  of  many  obvious 
unforeseen  dangers.  At  one  time  there  was 
a  conspiracy  a.-^ongst  my  own  people  to  turn 
pirates,  and  take  the  ship  from  me.  When 
the  plot  was  nearly  ripe,  and  they  only 
waited  a  convenient  opportunity,  two  of  those 
concerned  in  it  were  taken  ill  one  day  ;  one 
of  them  died,  and  he  was  the  only  person  I 
buried  while  on  board.  This  suspended  the 
affair,  and  opened  the  way  to  its  discovery, 
or  the  consequence  might  liave  been  fatal. 
The  slaves  on  board  were  likewise  frequent- 
ly plotting  insurrections,  and  were  sometimes 


106 


ANOTHER  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA. 


[let.  xn. 


upon  the  very  brink  of  mischief;  but  it  was 
always  disclosed  in  due  time.  When  I  have 
thought  myself  most  secure,  I  have  been 
suddenly  alarmed  with  danj^-er ;  and  when  I 
have  almost  despaired  of  life,  as  sudden  a 
deliverance  has  been  vouchsafed  me.  My 
stay  upon  tlie  coast  was  long,  and  the  trade 
very  precarious ;  and,  in  the  pursuit  of  my 
business,  both  on  board  and  on  shore,  I  was  in 
deaths  often.  Let  the  following  instance 
serve  as  a  specimen. 

I  was  at  a  place  called  Mana,  near  Cape 
]\Iount,  where  I  had  transacted  very  large 
concerns,  and  had,  at  the  time  I  am  speak- 
ing of,  some  debts  and  accounts  to  settle, 
which  required  my  attendance  on  shore,  and 
I  intended  to  go  the  next  morning.  When 
I  arose,  I  left  the  ship  according  to  my  pur- 
pose ;  but  when  I  came  near  the  shore,  the 
surf,  or  break  of  the  sea,  ran  so  high,  that  I 
was  almost  afraid  to  attempt  landing.  Indeed 
I  had  often  ventured  at  a  worse  time,  but  I 
felt  an  inward  hinderance  and  backwardness, 
which  I  could  not  account  for :  the  surf  fur- 
nished a  pretext  for  indulging  it ;  and  after 
waiting  and  hesitating  for  about  half  an  hour, 
I  returned  to  the  ship,  without  doing  any 
business ;  which  I  think  I  never  did  but  that 
morning,  in  all  the  time  I  used  that  trade. 
But  I  soon  perceived  the  reason  of  all  this.  It 
seems  the  day  before  I  intended  to  land,  a 
scandalous  and  groundless  charge  had  been 
laid  against  me  (by  whose  instigation  I  could 
never  learn,)  which  greatly  threatened  my 
nonour  and  interest,  both  in  Africa  and  Eng- 
land, and  would  perhaps,  humanly  speaking, 
have  affected  my  life,  if  I  had  landed  accord- 
ing to  my  intention.  I  sliall,  perhaps,  inclose 
a  letter,  which  will  give  a  full  account  of  this 
strange  adventure;  and  therefore  shall  say 
no  more  of  it  here,  any  further  than  to  tell 
you,  that  an  attempt  aimed  to  destroy  either 
my  life  or  my  character,  and  which  might 
very  probably,  in  its  consequences  have  ruin- 
ed my  voyage,  passed  off  without  the  least 
inconvenience.  The  person  most  concerned 
owed  me  about  a  hundred  pounds,  which  he 
sent  me  in  a  huf^';  and  otherwise,  perhaps, 
would  not  have  paid  me  at  all.  I  was  very 
uneasy  for  a  few  hours,  but  was  soon  after- 
wards comforted.  I  heard  no  more  of  my 
accusation  till  the  next  voyage,  and  then  it 
was  publicly  acknowledged  to  have  been  a 
malicious  calumny,  without  the  least  shadow 
of  a  ground. 

Such  were  the  vicissitudes  and  difficulties 
through  which  the  Lord  preserved  me. 
Now  and  then  both  faith  and  patience  were 
sharply  exercised,  but  suitabl  strength  was 
given  ;  and  as  those  things  did  not  occur 
everyday,  the  study  of  the  Latin,  of  which  I 
gave  a  general  account  in  m  last,  was  re- 
newed, and  carried  on  from  time  to  time, 
when  business  would  permit.  I  was  mostly 
very  regular  in  the  manageme  t  of  my  time. 


I  allotted  about  eight  hours  for  sleep  and 
meals,  eight  hours  for  exercise  and  devotion, 
and  eight  hours  to  my  books ;  and  thus,  by 
diversifying  my  engagements,  the  whole  day 
was  agreeably  filled  up,  and  I  seldom  found 
a  day  too  long,  or  an  hour  to  spare.  My 
studies  kept  me  employed,  and  so  far  it  was 
well ;  otherwise  they  were  hardly  worth  the 
time  they  cost,  as  they  led  me  to  an  admira- 
tion of  false  models  and  false  niaxims ;  an 
almost  unavoidable  consequence,  I  suppose, 
of  an  admiration  of  classic  authors.  Abating 
what  I  have  attained  of  the  language,  I  think 
I  might  have  read  Cassandra  or  Cleopatra 
to  as  good  purpose  as  I  read  Livy,  whom  I 
now  account  an  equal  romancer,  though  in 
a  different  way. 

From  the  coast,  I  went  to  St.  Christopher's ; 
and  liere  my  idolatrous  heart  was  its  own  pun- 
ishment. The  letters  I  expected  from  Mrs. 
N*****  were,  by  mistake,  forwarded  to  An- 
tigua, which  had  been  at  first  proposed  as  our 
port.  As  I  was  certain  of  her  punctuality 
in  writing,  if  alive,  I  concluded,  by  not  hear- 
ing from  her,  that  she  was  surely  dead. 
This  fear  affected  me  more  and  more  ;  I  lost 
my  appetite  and  rest ;  I  felt  an  incessant  pain 
in  my  stomach,  and  in  about  three  weeks  time 
I  was  near  sinking  under  the  weight  of  an 
imaginary  stroke.  I  felt  some  severe  symp- 
toms of  that  mixture  of  pride  and  madness, 
which  is  commonly  called  a  broken  heart ; 
and,  indeed,  I  wonder  that  this  case  is  not 
more  common  than  it  appears  to  be.  How 
often  do  the  potsherds  of  the  earth  presume 
to  contend  with  their  maker!  and  what  a 
wonder  of  mercy  is  it,  that  they  are  not  all 
broken  !  However,  my  complaint  was  not  all 
grief;  conscience  had  a  share.  I  thought  my 
unfaithfulness  to  God  had  deprived  me  of 
her,  especially  my  backwardness  in  speaking 
of  spiritual  things,  which  I  could  hardly  at- 
tempt even  to  her.  It  was  this  thought,  that 
I  had  lost  invaluable,  irrecoverable  opportu- 
nities, which  both  duty  and  affection  should 
have  engaged  me  to  improve,  that  chiefly 
stung  me;  and  I  thought  I  could  have  given 
the  world  to  know  that  she  was  living,  that 
I  might  at  least  discharge  my  engagements  by 
writing,  though  I  were  never  to  see  her  again. 
This  was  a  sharp  lesson,  but  I  hope  it  did 
me  good ;  and  when  I  had  thus  suffered  some 
weeks,  I  thought  of  sending  a  small  vessel 
to  Antigua.  I  did  so,  and  she  brought  me 
several  packets,  which  restored  my  health 
and  peace,  and  gave  me  a  strong  contrast  of 
the  Lord's  goodness  to  me,  and  my  unbelief 
and  ingratitude  towards  him. 

In  August,  1753,  I  returned  to  L . 

My  stay  was  very  short  at  home  that  voyage, 
only  six  weeks ;  in  that  space  nothing  very 
remarkable  occurred  ;  I  shall  therefore  begin 
my  next  with  an  account  of  my  third  and 
last  voyage.  And  thus  I  give  both  you  and 
myself  hopes  of  a  speedy  period  to  these 


LBT.  XIII.  J 


LAST  VOYAGK  TO  AFRICA. 


107 


nimuurs  wliich  beprin  to  bo  tedious  niiil 
niiiuiti',  even  to  myselt";  only  1  am  animated 
by  tiie  thou;,'ht  tluit  1  write  at  your  recjuest, 
aiid  have  therefore  an  t)i)jx)rtunity  ot'  bhow- 
iiv^  myself,  your  ohliijed  HervanL 
January  lU,  ITtilJ. 


1J::TTER  Xlll. 

DEAR  SIR, — My  third  voyan^e  was  shorter 
and  less  perple.xed  tJian  either  of  the  former. 
Before  1  sailed,  1  met  witii  a  youn;^  man,  who 
had  formerly  been  a  midshipman  and  my  in- 
timate companion,  on  board  the  IJarw^ich. 
He  was,  at  the  time  I  first  knew  him,  a  so- 
ber youth,  but  I  found  too  much  success 
in  my  unhappy  attempts  to  infect  him  with 

libertine  principles.    When  we  met  at  1,, , 

our  acquaintance  renewed  upon  the  gfround 
of  our  tbrmer  intimacy.  He  had  g:ood  sense, 
and  had  read  many  books.  Our  conversation 
frequently  turned  ujwn  relig-ion,  and  I  was 
desirous  to  repair  the  mischief  1  had  done  him. 
I  gave  him  a  plain  account  of  the  manner  and 
reason  of  my  chano^e,  and  used  every  arg-u- 
ment  to  persuade  him  to  relinquish  his  infi- 
del schemes ;  and  when  I  sometimes  pressed 
him  so  close  that  he  had  no  other  reply  to 
make,  he  would  remind  me  that  I  was  tlie 
very  tirst  person  wJio  had  given  him  an  idea 
of  his  liberty.  This  occasioned  me  many 
mouniful  reflections.  He  was  then  going- 
master  to  Gumea  himself,  but  before  his  ship 
was  ready,  his  merchant  became  a  bankrupt, 
which  disconcerted  his  voyage.  As  he  had 
no  further  expectations  for  that  year,  I  offer- 
ed to  take  him  with  me  as  a  companion,  that 
he  might  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  coast ;  and 
the  gentleman  who  employed  me  promised  to 
provide  for  him  upon  his  return.  My  view 
in  this  was  not  so  much  to  serve  him  in  his 
business,  as  to  have  opportunity  of  debating 
the  point  with  him  at  leisure ;  and  I  hoped, 
in  the  course  of  my  voyage,  my  arguments, 
example,  and  prayers,  might  have  some  good 
effect  on  him.  My  intention  in  this  step 
was  better  than  my  judgment,  and  I  had  fre- 
quent reason  to  repent  it.  He  was  exceed- 
ingly profane,  and  grew  worse  and  worse:  I 
saw  in  him  a  most  lively  picture  of  what  I 
had  once  been,  but  it  was  very  inconvenient 
to  have  it  always  before  my  eyes.  Besides, 
he  was  not  only  deaf  to  my  remonstrances 
himself,  but  laboured  all  that  he  could  to 
counteract  my  influence  upon  others.  His 
spirit  and  passions  were  likewise  exceeding 
high,  so  that  it  required  all  my  prudence  and 
authority  to  hold  hun  in  any  degree  of  re- 
straint. He  \vas  as  a  sharp  thorn  in  my  side 
for  some  time ;  but  at  length  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity upon  the  coast  of  buying  a  small  vessel 
which  I  supplied  w^ith  a  cargo  from  my  own, 
and  gave  him  the  command,  and  sent  him 


away  to  trade  on  the  ship' .s  arrotmt.  When 
we  parted,  I  repjaled  und  enforced  my  Itetst 
advice.  1  Indieve  bin  fri'-ndship  and  regard 
were  as  great  a.s  could  be  e.\pecte<l,  where 
principlcH  were  ho  diametrically  opjxiwite. 
lie  seemed  greatly  aflected  when  I  left 
him,  but  my  words  had  no  weight  with  liim. 
Wlien  lie  found  himself  at  lih«,'rty  from  un- 
der my  eye,  he  gave  a  hasty  l(X)se  to  every 
appetite;  iind  his  violent  irregularities,  joined 
to  the  heat  of  the  climate,  noon  threw  him 
into  a  malignant  fever,  which  carried  him 
off  in  a  few  days.  Jle  died  convinced,  but 
not  changed.  The  account  I  h:id  from  those 
who  were  with  him  was  dreadful ;  his  rage 
and  despair  struck  them  all  witii  horror,  and 
he  pronounced  hie  own  fatal  do(;m  before  he 
expired,  without  any  appearance  that  he 
either  hoped  or  asked  lor  mercy.  I  thought 
this  awful  contrast  might  not  be  impropr.r  to 
give  you,  as  a  stronger  view  of  the  distin- 
guishing goodness  of  God  to  me  the  chief  of 
sinners. 

I  left  the  coast  in  about  four  months,  and 
sailed  for  St.  Christopher's.  Hitherto  I  had 
enjoyed  a  perfect  state  of  health,  equally  in 
every  climate,  for  several  years;  but,  upon 
this  passage,  1  was  visited  v\'ith  a  fever, 
which  gave  me  a  very  near  prospect  of  eter- 
nity. I  have  obtained  liberty  to  enclose  you. 
three  or  four  letters,  which  will  more  clearly 
illustrate  the  state  and  measure  of  my  expe- 
rience, at  different  times,  than  any  thing  I 
can  say  at  present.  One  of  them  you  will 
find  was  written  at  this  period,  when  I  could 
hardly  hold  a  pen,  and  had  some  reason  to 
believe  I  should  write  no  more.  I  had  not 
that  rrKf.eztfi^tx,*  which  is  so  desirable  at  a 
tune  when  flesh  and  heart  tail ;  but  my 
hopes  were  greater  than  my  fears,  and  I  felt 
a  silent  composure  of  spirit,  which  enabled 
me  to  wait  the  event  w-ithout  much  anxiety. 
My  trust,  though  weak  in  degree,  w  as  alone 
fixed  upon  the  blood  and  righteousness  of 
Jesus ;  and  those  words,  "  he  is  able  to  save 
to  the  uttermost,"  gave  me  great  relief.  I 
was  for  a  while  troubled  with  a  very  singular 
thought.  Whether  it  was  a  temptation,  or 
that  the  fever  disordered  my  faculties,  I  can- 
not say,  but  I  seemed  not  so  much  afraid  of 
wrath  and  punishment,  as  of  being  lost  and 
overlooked  amidst  the  myriads  that  are  con- 
tinually entering  the  unseen  world.  What 
is  my  soul,  thought  I,  among  such  an  innu- 
merable multitude  of  beings  ?  And  this 
troubled  me  greatly.  Perhaps  the  Lord  will 
take  no  notice  of  me.  I  was  perplexed  thus 
for  some  time,  but  at  last  a  text  of  scripture, 
very  apposite  to  the  case,  occurred  to  my 
mind,  and  put  an  end  to  the  doubt ;  "  The 
Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his."  In  about 
ten  days,  beyond  the  hopes  of  those  about 
me,  I  began  to  amend,  and  by  the  time  of 

*  Full  assurance. 


L 


108 


LAST  VOYAGE  TO  AFRICA,  &c. 


[let.  xni. 


nur  arrival  in  the  West  Indies,  I  was  per- 
fectly recovered. — I  hope  this  visitation  was 
made  useful  to  me. 

Thus  far,  tiiut  is,  for  about  the  space  of  six 
years,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  l6ad  me  in  a 
secret  way.  I  had  learned  something' of  the 
evil  of  my  heart ;  I  had  read  the  Bible  over 
and  over,  with  several  g-ood  books,  and  had  a 
g-eneral  view  of  gospel  truths.  But  my  con- 
ceptions were,  in  many  respects,  confused  ; 
not  having,  in  all  this  time,  met  with  one 
acquaintance  who  could  assist  my  inquiries. 
But  upon  my  arrival  at  St.  Christopher's,  this 
voyage,  I  found  a  captain  of  a  ship  from  Lon- 
don, whose  conversation  was  greatly  helpful 
to  me.     He  was,  and  is  a  member  of  Mr. 

B r's  cimrch,  a  man  of  experience  in  the 

things  of  God,  and  of  a  lively,  communicative 
turn.  We  discovered  each  other  by  some 
casual  expressions  in  mixed  company,  and 
soon  became  (so  far  as  business  would  per- 
mit) inseparable.  For  near  a  month,  we 
spent  every  evening  together,  on  board  each 
other's  ship  alternately,  and  often  prolonged 
our  visits  till  towards  day-break.  I  was  all 
ears ;  and  what  was  better,  he  not  only  inform- 
ed my  understanding,  but  his  discourse  in- 
flamed my  heart.  He  encouraged  me  to  open 
my  mouth  in  social  prayer;  he  taught  me  the 
advantage  of  christian  converse ;  he  put  me 
upon  an  attempt  to  make  my  profession  more 
public,  and  to  venture  to  speak  for  God. 
From  him,  or  rather  from  the  Lord,  by  his 
means,  I  received  an  increase  of  know- 
ledge ;  my  conceptions  became  clearer  and 
more  evangelical,  and  I  was  delivered  from 
a  fear  which  had  long  troubled  me,  the  fear 
of  relapsing  into  my  former  apostacy.  But : 
now  I  began  to  understand  the  security  of 
the  covenant  of  grace,  and  to  expect  to  be 
preserved,  not  by  my  own  pov.'er  and  holiness, 
but  by  the  misrhty  power  and  promise  of 
God,  through  faith  in  an  unchangeable  Sa- 
viour. He  likewise  gave  me  a  general  view 
of  the  state  of  religion,  with  the  errors  and 
controversies  of  the  times  (things  to  wliich  I 
had  been  entirely  a  stranger,)  and  finally 
directed  me  where  to  apply  in  London  for 
further  instruction.  With  these  newly  ac- 
quired advantages,  I  left  him,  and  my  pas- 
sage homewards  gave  me  leisure  to  digest 
what  I  had  received.  I  had  much  comfort 
and  freedom  during  those  seven  weeks;  and 
my  sun  was  seldom  clouded.  I  arrived  safe 
in  L ,  August,  17.34. 

My  stay  at  home  was  intended  to  be  but 
short,  and  by  the  beginning  of  November,  I 
was  a.gain  ready  for  the  sea:  but  the  Lord 
.saw  fit  to  over-rule  my  design.  During  the 
time  I  was  engaged  in  the  slave  trade,  I 
never  had  the  least  scruple  as  to  its  lawful- 
ness. I  was,  upon  the  whole,  satisfied  with 
it,  as  the  appointment  Providence  had  mark- 
ed out  for  me ;  yet  it  was,  in  many  respects, 
far  from  elijrible.     It  is,  indeed,  accounted  a 


genteel  employment,  and  is  usually  very 
profitable,  though  to  me  it  did  not  prove  so, 
the  lx)rd  seeing  that  a  large  increase  of 
wealth  could  not  be  good  for  me.  However 
I  considered  myself  as  a  sort  of  gaoler  oi 
turnkey ;  and  I  was  sometimes  shocked  with 
an  employment  that  was  perpetually  conver- 
sant with  chains,  bolts,  and  shackles.  In 
this  view  I  had  often  petitioned,  in  my  pray- 
ers, that  the  Lord,  in  his  own  time,  wouli 
be  pleased  to  fix  me  in  a  more  humane  call- 
ing, and,  if  it  might  be,  place  me  where  I 
might  have  more  frequent  converse  with 
his  people  and  ordinances,  and  be  freed  from 
those  long  separations  from  home,  which 
very  often  were  hard  to  bear.  My  prayers 
were  now  answered,  though  in  a  way  I  little 
expected.  I  now  experienced  another  sud- 
den, unforeseen  change  of  life.  I  was  within 
two  days  of  sailing,  and,  to  all  appearance,  in 
good  health  as  usual ;  but  in  the  afternoon, 
as  I  was  sitting  witli  Mrs.  N*****,  by  our- 
selves, drinking  tea,  and  talking  over  past 
events,  I  was  in  a  moment  seized  with  a  fit, 
which  deprived  me  of  sense  and  motion,  and 
left  me  no  other  sign  of  life  than  that  of 
breathing.  I  suppose  it  was  of  the  apoplec- 
tic kind.  It  lasted  about  an  hour,  and  when 
I  recovered,  it  left  a  pain  and  dizziness  in 
my  head,  which  continued  with  such  symj>- 
toms  as  induced  the  physicians  to  judge  it 
would  not  be  safe  or  prudent  for  me  to  pro- 
ceed on  the  voyage.  Accordingly,  by  the 
advice  of  my  friend,  to  whom  the  ship  be- 
longed, I  resigned  the  command  the  day  be- 
fore she  sailed ;  and  thus  I  was  unexpectedly 
called  from  that  service,  and  freed  from  a 
share  of  the  future  consequences  of  that 
voyage,  which  proved  extremely  calamitous. 
The  person  who  v/ent  in  my  room,  most  of 
the  ofiicers,  and  many  of  the  crew,  died,  and 
the  vessel  was  brought  home  with  great  dif- 
ficulty. 

As  I  was  now  disengaged  from  business.  I 

left  L ,  and  spent  most  of  the  following 

year  at  London,  and  in  Kent.  But  I  entered 
upon  a  new  trial.  You  will  easily  conceive 
that  Mrs.  N*****  was  not  an  unconcerned 
spectator,  when  I  lay  extended,  and,  as  she 
thought,  expiring  upon  the  ground.  In  efiect, 
the  blow  that  struck  me  reached  her  in  the 
same  instant:  she  did  not,  indeed,  immediate- 
ly feel  it,  till  her  apprehensions  on  my  ac- 
count began  to  subside ;  but  as  I  grew  bet- 
ter, she  became  worse:  her  surprise  threw 
her  into  a  disorder,  which  no  physicans  could 
define,  or  medicines  remove.  Without  any 
of  the  ordinary  symptoms  of  a  consumption, 
she  decayed  almost  visibly,  till  she  became 
so  weak  that  she  could  hardly  bear  any  one 
to  walk  across  the  room  she  was  in.  I  was 
placed  for  about  eleven  months  in  what  Dr. 
Yoimg  calls  the 

"  —  dreadful  post  of  observation, 
Darker  everv  hour  " 


trr.  xiT  ] 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  XARRATIVK 


109 


It  was  not  till  ntl(T  my  sfttlenvMit  in  my 
prostMit  station,  thai  the  I/)r(l  was  pleased  to 
n'storo  her  hy  hi.-*  own  hand,  whru  all  hoprs 
from  ordinary  mi\ins  woro  at  an  (mkI.  lint 
ix?foro  this  tiK)k  jjlacc,  I  hav»;  Homo  t)lh(>r 
parliculurs  to  mrntion,  which  nmst  he  tin,' 
suhject  of  the  toUowinir  sheet,  which  I  liopt^ 
will  be  the  last  on  tliis  subject,  from — Vour 
»rt»H'tionate  servant, 

Fthnuiry  1,  1701. 


LETTER  XIV. 

DE\R  SIR, — By  the  directions  I  had  receiv- 
ed from  my  friend  at  St.  Kitt's,  I  s(X)n  found 
out  a  relig^ious  iic(]uaintance  in  London.  I 
first  applied  to  Mr.  13 ,  and  chiefly  attend- 
ed upon  his  ministry,  when  in  town.  From 
him  I  received  many  helps  both  in  public  and 
private;  for  he  was  pleased  to  favour  mc 
witli  his  friendship,  from  the  first.  His  kind- 
ness and  the  intimacy  between  us  liave  con- 
tinued and  increased  to  this  day;  and  of  all 
my  many  friends,  I  am  most  deeply  indebted 

to  him.    The  late  Mr.  H d  was  my  second 

acquaintance ;  a  man  of  a  choice  spirit,  and 
an  abundant  zeal  tor  the  Lord's  service.  I 
enjoyed  his  correspondence  till  near  the  time 

of  his  death.     Soon  after,  upon  Mr.  W d's 

return  from  America,  my  two  g-ood  friends 
introduced  me  to  him;  andthouofh  I  had  little 
personal  acquaintance  with  him  till  after- 
wards, his  ministry  was  exceeding  useful  to 
me.  I  had  likewise  access  to  some  religious 
societies,  and  became  known  to  many  excel- 
lent christians  in  private  life.  Thus,  when 
at  London,  I  lived  at  the  fountain  head,  as  it 
were,  for  spiritual  advantages.  When  I  was 
in  Kent,  it  was  very  different,  yet  I  found 
some  serious  persons  there ;  but  the  fine  va- 
riegated woodland  country  afforded  rne  ad- 
vantages of  another  kind.  Most  of  my  time, 
at  least  some  hours  every  day,  I  passed  in 
retirement,  when  the  weather  was  fair ; 
sometimes  in  the  thickest  woods,  sometimes 
on  the  highest  hills,  where  almost  every  step 
varied  the  prospect.  It  has  been  my  custom 
for  many  years,  to  perform  my  devotional 
exercises  sub  dio,  when  1  have  opportunity, 
and  I  always  find  these  rural  scenes  have 
some  tendency  both  to  refresh  and  compose 
my  spirits.  A  beautiful  diversified  prospect 
gladdens  my  heart.  When  I  am  withdrawn 
from  the  noise  and  petty  works  of  men,  I 
consider  myself  as  in  the  great  temple,  which 
the  Lord  hath  built  for  his  own  honour. 

The  country  between  Rochester  and  Maid- 
stone, bordering  upon  the  Med  way,  was  well 
suited  to  the  turn  of  my  mind ;  and  was  I  to 
go  over  it  now,  I  could  point  to  many  a  place 
where  I  remember  either  to  have  earnestly 
sought,  or  happily  found,  the  Lord's  comforta- 
ble presence  with  my  soul.    And  thus  I  lived, 


I  somrtime.s  at  I/)nd(»n,  and  Hoinctiriie.M  in  iho 
coimlry,  ill  tlie  autumn  of  the  tijllowinij  year. 
All  thin  while  I  had  two  trials,  more  or  leHH, 
u|)on  my  mind  ;  the  tirst  and  prineipal  wa« 
Mrt*.  I\,'*****'h  illness;  she  .still  Lfrew  wor.-te, 
and  I  had  daily  uunr.  reason  to  fear  that  llio 
hour  of  s(>j)aration  wius  at  hand.  When  faith 
was  in  exercise,  I  was  in  some  mea.sure  re- 
signed to  the  I/jhTh  will;  hut  Uxt  often  my 
heart  rebelled,  and  I  ll)und  it  hard  either  to  truht 
or  to  submit.  I  had  likewise  soirif*  care  alK)iit 
my  future  settlement;  the  Afri<;an  trade  was 
overdone  that  year,  and  my  friends  did  not 
care  to  fit  out  another  ship  till  mine  return- 
ed. I  was  sometime  in  suspense ;  but,  inde(;d, 
a  provision  of  food  and  raiment  has  seldom 
been  a  cause  of  great  solicitude  to  me.  I 
found  it  easier  to  trust  the  l/)rd  in  this  point 
than  in  the  former,  and  accordingly  this  wjw 
first  answered.  In  August  I  received  an 
account  that  I  was  nominated  to  the  office 

of .     The.se  places  are  usually  obtained, 

or  at  least  sought,  by  dint  of  much  interest 
and  application ;  but  this  came  to  me  un- 
sought and  unexpected.    I  knew,  indeed,  my 

good  friend  in  L had  endeavoured  to 

procure  another  post  for  me,  but  found  it 
pre-engaged,  I  found  afterwards,  that  the 
place  I  had  missed  would  have  been  very 
unsuitable  for  me,  and  that  this,  which  1  had 
no  thought  of,'  was  the  very  thing  I  could 
have  wished  for,  as  it  afforded  me  much 
leisure,  and  the  liberty  of  living  in  my  own 
way.  Several  circumstances,  unnoticed  by 
others  concurred,  to  show  me  that  the  good 
hand  of  the  Lord  was  as  remarkably  con- 
cerned in  this  event  as  in  any  other  leading 
turn  of  my  life. 

But  when  I  gained  this  point,  my  distress 
in  the  other  was  doubled ;  I  was  obliged  to 
leave  ]Mrs.  N*****,  in  the  greatest  extremity 
of  pain  and  illness,  when  the  physicians 
could  do  no  more,  and  I  had  no  ground  of 
hope  that  I  should  see  her  again  alive,  but 
tliis,  that  nothing  is  impossible  with  the 
Lord.  I  had  a  severe  conflict ;  but  faith  pre- 
vailed. I  found  the  promise  remarkably 
fulfilled,  of  strength  proportioned  to  my  need. 
The  day  before  I  set  out,  and  not  till  tJien, 
the  burden  was  entirely  taken  from  my  mind. 
I  was  strengthened  to  resign  both  her  and 
myself  to  the  Lord's  disposal,  and  departed 
from  her  in  a  cheerful  frame.  Soon  after  I 
was  gone,  she  began  to  amend,  and  recover- 
ed so  fast,  that  in  about  two  months  I  had 
the  pleasure  to  meet  her  at  Stone,  on  her 
journey  to  L . 

And  now,  I  think,  I  have  answered,  if  not 
exceeded,  your  desire.  Since  October  1755, 
we  have  been  comfortably  settled  here,  and 
all  my  circumstances  have  been  as  remark- 
ably smooth  and  unitbrm  as  they  were  vari- 
ous in  former  years.  My  trials  have  been 
light  and  few,  not  but  that  I  still  find,  in  the 
experience  of  every  day,  the  necessity  of  a 


no 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NARRATIVE. 


[let.  XIV. 


life  of  faith.  My  principal  trial  is,  the  body 
of  sin  and  death,  which  makes  me  often  to 
sig^h  out  the  ajwstle's  complaint,  "  O  wretch- 
ed man,  &c."  But  with  hiin  likewise  I  can 
say,  *'  I  thank  G<3d  through  Jesus  Christ  my 
Lord."  I  live  in  a  barren  land,  where  the 
knowledge  and  power  of  the  gospel  is  very 
low  ;  yet  here  are  a  few  of  the  Ix)rd's  people ; 
and  this  wilderness  has  been  a  useful  school 
to  me,  where  I  have  studied  more  leisurely 
the  truths  which  I  gathered  up  in  I^ondon. 
I  brought  down  with  me  a  considerable  stock 
of  notional  truths;  but  I  have  since  found, 
that  tliere  is  no  effectual  teacher  but  God ; 
that  we  can  receive  no  further  than  he  is 
pleased  to  communicate  ;  and  that  no  know- 
ledge is  truly  useful  to  me,  but  what  is  made 
my  own  by  experience.  Many  things,  I 
thought  I  had  learned,  would  not  stand  in 
an  hour  of  temptation,  till  I  had  in  this  way 
learned  them  over  again.  Since  the  year 
1757, 1  have  had  an  increasing  acquaintance 
in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  where  the 
gospel  flourishes  greatly.  This  has  been  a 
good  school  to  me.  I  have  conversed  at 
large  among  all  parties,  without  joining  any ; 
and  in  my  attempts  to  hit  the  golden  mean, 
I  have  sometimes  been  drawn  too  near  the 
different  extremes ;  yet  the  Lord  has  enabled 
me  to  profit  by  my  mistakes.  In  brief,  I  am 
still  a  learner,  and  the  Lord  still  condescends 
to  teach  me.  I  begin  at  length  to  see  that 
I  have  attained  but  very  little ;  but  I  trust  in 
him  to  carry  on  his  own  work  in  my  soul,  and, 
by  all  the  dispensations  of  his  grace  and  pro- 
vidence, to  increase  my  knowledge  of  him 
and  of  myself 

When  I  was  fixed  in  a  house,  and  found 
my  business  would  afford  me  much  leisure 
time,  I  considered  in  what  manner  I  should 
improve  it  And  now,  having  reason  to  close 
with  the  apostle's  determination,  "  to  know 
nothing  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified," 
I  devoted  my  life  to  the  prosecution  of  spirit- 
ual knowledge,  and  resolved  to  pursue  no- 
thing but  in  subservience  to  this  main  design. 
This  resolution  divorced  me,  as  I  have  al- 
ready hinted,  from  the  classics  and  mathema- 
tics. My  first  attempt  was  to  learn  so  much 
Greek  as  would  enable  me  to  understand  the 
New  Testament  and  Septuagint ;  and  when 
I  had  made  some  progress  this  way,  I  enter- 
ed upon  the  Hebrew  the  following  year ;  and 
two  years  afterwards,  having  surmised  some 
advantages  from  the  Syriac  version,  I  began 
with  that  language.  You  must  not  think 
that  I  have  attained,  or  ever  aimed  at,  a  cri- 
tical skill  in  any  of  these.  I  had  no  business 
with  them  but  as  in  reference  to  something 
else.  I  never  read  one  classic  author  in  the 
Greek.  I  thought  it  too  late  in  life  to 
take  such  a  round  in  this  language  as  I  had 
done  in  the  I^tin.  I  only  wanted  the  signifi- 
cation of  scriptural  words  and  phrases ;  and 
for  this  I  thought  I  might  avail  myeelf  of 


Scapula,  the  Synopis,  and  others,  who  had 
sustained  the  drudgery  before  me.  In  the 
Hebrew,  I  can  read  the  historical  books  and 
psalms  witli  tolerable  ease ;  but  in  the  pro- 
phetical and  difficult  parts,  I  am  frequently 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  lexicons,  d:c. 
However,  I  know  so  much  as  to  be  able, 
with  such  helps  as  are  at  hand,  to  judge  for 
myself  the  meaning  of  any  passage  I  have 
occasion  to  consult.  Beyond  this  I  do  not 
think  of  proceeding,  if  I  can  find  better  em- 
ployment ;  for  I  would  rather  be  some  way 
useful  to  otliers,  than  die  with  the  reputation 
of  an  eminent  linguist. 

Together  with  these  studies,  I  have  kept 
up  a  course  of  reading  of  the  best  writers  in 
divinity  that  have  come  to  my  hand,  iii  the 
Latin  and  English  tongues,  and  some  French ; 
for  I  picked  up  the  French  at  times  while  I 
used  the  sea.  But  within  these  two  or  three 
years  I  have  accustomed  myself  chiefly  to 
writing,  and  have  not  found  time  to  read 
many  books  besides  the  scriptures. 

I  am  the  more  particular  in  this  account, 
as  my  case  has  been  somewhat  singular ;  for, 
in  all  my  literary  attempts,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  strike  out  my  o^vn  path,  by  the 
light  I  could  acquire  from  books,  as  I  have  not 
had  a  teacher  or  assistant  since  I  was  ten 
years  of  age. 

One  word  concerning  my  views  to  the  mi- 
nistry, and  I  have  done.  I  have  told  you, 
that  this  was  my  dear  mother's  hope  concern- 
ing me ;  but  her  death,  and  the  scenes  of  life 
in  which  I  afterwards  engaged,  seemed  to 
cut  off  the  probability.  The  first  desires  of 
this  sort  in  my  own  mind,  arose  many  years 
ago,  from  a  reflection  on  Gal.  i.  23,  24.  I 
could  not  but  wish  for  such  a  public  opportu- 
nity to  testify  the  riches  of  divine  grace.  I 
thought  I  was,  above  most  living,  a  fit  person 
to  proclaim  that  faithful  saying,  "  That  Jesus 
Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  the  chief 
of  sinners;"  and  as  my  life  had  been  full  of 
remarkable  turns,  and  I  seemed  selected  to 
show  what  the  Lord  could  do,  I  was  in  some 
hopes  that,  perhaps,  sooner  or  later,  he  might 
call  me  into  his  service. 

I  believe  it  was  a  distant  hope  of  this  that 
determined  me  to  study  the  original  scrip- 
tures ;  but  it  remained  an  imperfect  desire  in 
my  own  breast,  till  it  was  recommended  to 
me  by  some  christian  friends.  I  started  at 
the  thought,  when  first  seriously  proposed 
to  me ;  but  afterwards  set  apart  some  weeks 
to  consider  the  case,  to  consult  my  friends, 
and  to  intreat  the  Lord's  direction.  The 
judgment  of  my  friends,  and  many  thing* 
that  occurred,  tended  to  engage  me.  My 
first  thought  was  to  join  the  dissenters,  from 
a  presumption  that  I  could  not  honestly  make- 

the  required  subscriptions;  but  Mr.  C y. 

in  a  conversation  upon  these  points,  mode- 
rated my  scruples  ;  and  preferring  the  esta- 
blished church  in  some  other  respects,  I  ac- 


_J 


LET.  XIT] 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NARRATIVR 


111 


ccpted  a  title  from  him,  8omo  months  after- 1 
wards,  ami  solicitod  ordination  from  the  lat»* 
archbishoj)  of  York.  I  iwvd  not  tell  you  I 
met  a  retus^il,  nor  what  steps  I  ttx)k  atler- 
warJs  to  succeed  elsewhere.  At  present  I 
desist  from  any  applioatii>Ms.  My  desire  to 
serve  tlie  l^ord  is  not  weakened ;  but  I  am 
not  so  hasty  to  push  myself  lorward  as  I  woi? 
former W     It  ia  sutlicient  Uiat  he  knows  how 


to  diapo60  of  mo,  and  that  he  both  ran  and 
will  do  what  is  best.  To  him  I  cornm«;nd  my- 
self: I  trust  that  his  will  and  my  true  intereHt 
are  inse|)arable.  'J'o  his  name  be  plory  for 
ever.  And  thus  I  conclude  njy  f^tory,  and 
presume  you  will  acknowledpro  I  have  been 
particular  enoup^h.  I  have  nxMu  for  no  more, 
but  to  repeat  that  1  am,  sir,  your'8,  &x:. 
February  2,  17(>4. 


FORTY-ONE  LETTERS 


RELIGIOUS  SUBJECTS 


ORIOINALLT 


PUBLISHED  UNDER  THE  SIGNATURES 


OP 


OMICRON  AND  VIGIL. 


LETTER  I. 

On  Trust  in  the  Providence  of  God,  and 
Benevolence  to  his  Poor. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — The  more  I  think  of 
the  point  you  proposed  to  me,  the  more  I  am 
confirmed  to  renew  the  advice  I  then  g-ave. 
There  is  doubtless  such  a  thing  as  christian 
prudence  ;  but,  my  friend,  beware  of  coun- 
terfeits. Self-love,  and  the  evil  heart  of  un- 
belief, will  endeavour  to  obtrude  upon  us  a 
prudence  so  called,  which  is  as  opposite  to 
the  former  as  darkness  to  light.  I  do  not 
say  that,  now  you  have  a  wife,  and  the  pros- 
sent  of  a  family,  you  are  strictly  bound  to  com- 
municate with  the  poor  in  the  same  propor- 
tion as  formerly.  I  say,  you  are  not  bound ; 
for  every  thing  of  this  sort  should  proceed 
from  a  willing  mind.  But  if  you  should  tell 
me,  the  Lord  has  given  you  such  a  zeal  for 
his  glory,  such  a  concern  for  the  honour  of 
the  gospel,  such  a  love  to  his  members,  such 
a  grateful  sense  of  his  mercies  (especially 
by  granting  you,  in  this  late  instance  of  your 
marriage,  the  desire  of  your  heart,)  and  such 
an  affiance  in  his  providence  and  promises, 
that  you  find  yourself  very  unwilling  to  be 
one  sixpence  in  the  year  less  useful  than  you 
was  before,  I  could  not  blame  you,  or  dis- 
suade you  from  it.  But  I  do  not  absolutely 
advise  it;  because  I  know  not  the  state  of 
your  mind,  or  what  measure  of  faith  the  Lord 
has  given  you.  Only  this  I  believe,  that 
'vhen  the  Lord  gives  such  a  confidence,  he 
will  not  disappoint  it. 

When  I  look  among  the  professors,  yea, 
among  the  ministers  of  the  gospel,  there  are 
few  things  I  see  a  more  general  want  of, 


than  such  a  trust  in  God  as  to  temporals,  ana 
such  a  sense  of  the  honour  of  being  permit- 
led  to  relieve  the  necessities  of  his  people, 
as  might  dispose  them  to  a  more  liberal  dis- 
tribution of  what  they  have  at  present  in 
their  power,  and  to  a  reliance  on  him  for  a 
sufficient  supply  in  future.  Some  excep- 
tions there  are.  Some  persons  I  have  the 
happiness  to  know,  whose  chief  pleasure  it 
seems  to  be,  to  devise  liberal  things.  For 
the  most  part,  we  take  care,  first,  to  be  well 
supplied,  if  possible,  with  all  the  necessaries, 
conveniences,  and  not  a  few  of  the  elegan- 
cies of  life ;  then  to  have  a  snug  fund  laid 
up  against  a  rainy  day,  as  the  phrase  is  (if 
this  is  in  an  increasing  way,  so  much  the 
better,)  that  when  we  look  at  children  and 
near  relatives,  we  may  say  to  our  hearts, 
"  Now  they  are  well  provided  for."  And 
when  we  have  gotten  all  this,  and  more,  we 
are,  perhaps,  content,  for  the  love  of  Christ, 
to  bestow  a  pittance  of  our  superfluities,  a 
tenth  or  a  twentieth  part  of  what  we  spend 
or  hoard  up  for  ourselves,  upon  the  poor.  But, 
alas  !  what  do  we  herem  more  than  others  ? 
Multitudes,  who  know  nothing  of  the  love 
of  Christ,  will  do  thus  much,  yea,  perhaps, 
greatly  exceed  us,  from  the  mere  feelings  of 
humanity. 

But  it  may  be  asked.  Would  you  show  no 
regard  to  the  possibility  of  leaving  your  wife 
or  children  unprovided  for?  Quite  the  re- 
verse. I  would  have  you  attend  to  it  very 
much,  and  behold  the  scriptures  show  you 
the  more  excellent  way.  If  you  had  a  little 
money  to  spare,  would  you  not  lend  it  to  me, 
if  I  assured  you  it  should  be  repaid  when 
wanted]  I  can  point  out  to  you  better  interest 
112 


'.] 


ON  TRUST  IN  (iOO. 


113 


ami  better  security  than  I  could  |)<is,sil)ly 
pive  you  :  Prov.  xix.  17,  "  lie  that  luitli  j)ity 
upon  tlie  j)(H)r,  lendt'th  unit)  the  l/onl;  luid 
that  which  ht?  hath  ;,'iven,  will  he  pay  him 
a>,'ain."  What  think  you  of  thi.s  text !  Is  it 
t)»e  word  of  (iod  or  not .'  Is  he  worthy  of  he- 
lief,  or  not  !  Is  lie  uhle  to  make  «J(kx1  his 
word,  or  i.H  he  not  I  I  tiaro  stake  all  my  in- 
terest in  your  friendship  (which  I  should  be 
very  loath  to  forfeit,)  that  it"  you  act  upon 
this  maxim,  in  a  spirit  of  prayer  and  faith, 
and  with  a  sinirle  eye  to  his  ^lory,  you  shall 
not  be  disapixiintcil.  Read  over  ^Iatt.  vi. 
*Jt) — ;J4.  Shall  wo  contine  that  roasonin<^ 
and  those  promises  to  the  primitive  times  ! 
Say  not,  "if  tiie  Lord  would  make  windows 
in  heaven,  this  thinor  mifjht  be."  He  has 
more  ways  to  bless  and  prosper  those  who 
trust  in  him,  than  we  are  able  to  point  out 
to  him.  But  I  tell  you,  my  friend,  ho  will 
eooncr  make  windows  in  heaven,  turn  stones 
into  bread,  yea,  stop  the  sun  in  his  course, 
than  he  will  suffer  those  who  conscientiously 
serve  him,  and  depend  upon  him,  to  be  des- 
titute. 

Some  instances  we  have  had  of  ministers, 
who  have  seemed  to  transgress  the  bounds 
of  strict  prudence  in  their  attention  to  the 
poor.  But  if  they  have  been  men  of  faith, 
prayer,  and  zeal ;  if  they  did  it,  not  from  a 
caprice  of  humour,  or  a  spirit  of  indolence, 
but  from  such  motives  as  the  scripture  sug- 
gests and  recommends,  I  believe  their  fami- 
lies have  seldom  suffered  for  it.  I  wish  you 
to  consult,  upon  this  head,  what  Mrs.  Alleine 
says,  in  the  affecting-  account  she  has  given 
of  that  honoured  and  faithful  servant  of  God, 
lier  husband,  Joseph  Alleine.  Besides,  you 
know  not  what  you  may  actually  save  in  a 
course  of  years  by  this  method.  The  apos- 
tle, speaking  of  some  abuses  that  obtained  in 
the  church  of  Corinth,  says,  "  For  this  cause 
many  are  sick  among  you."  If  prudence 
should  shut  up  the  bowels  of  your  compassion 
(which  I  trust  it  never  will,)  the  Lord  might 
quarter  an  apothecary  upon  your  family, 
which  would,  perhaps,  cost  you  twice  the 
money  that  would  have  sufficed  to  refresh 
his  people,  and  to  commend  your  ministry 
and  character. 

But  if,  after  all,  prudence  will  be  heard,  I 
counsel  you  to  do  these  two  things.  First, 
Be  very  certain  that  you  allow  yourselves  in 
nothing  superfluous.  You  cannot,  I  trust,  in 
conscience  think  of  laying  out  one  penny 
more  than  is  barely  decent,  unless  you  have 
another  penny  to  help  the  poor.  Then,  se- 
condly, Let  your  friends,  who  are  in  good 
circumstances,  be  plainly  told,  that,  though 
you  love  them,  prudence  and  the  necessary 
charge  of  a  family,  will  not  permit  you  to 
entertain  them ;  no,  not  for  a  night.  What 
8ay  you !  shut  my  door  against  my  friends  ? 
Yes,  by  all  means,  rather  than  against  Christ. 
If  the  Lord  Jesus  was  again  upon  earth  in  a 


Htate  of  humiliation,  and  ho,  and  the  lx»Ht 
friend  you  have,  Kt/inding  ut  your  door,  anil 
your  |)rovision  so  strait  that  you  could  not 
receive  l)oth,  which  would  you  entertain  1 
Now,  he  says  of  the  [XK)r,  "Inasnnich  hh  you 
did  it  to  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  you 
did  it  unto  me."  Your  friends  liave  houses 
of  their  own,  and  money  to  pay  at  an  iim,  if 
you  do  not  take  thcMu  in ;  but  the  p<H)r  need 
rtdief  One  would  almost  think  that  |)a.s- 
sage,  Ijuke  xiv.  12,  IM,  14,  waij  not  con- 
sidered us  a  part  of  (Jcxi's  word  ;  at  least  I 
believe  there  is  no  one  passage  so  generally 
neglected  by  his  own  people.  I  do  not  think 
it  unlawful  to  entertain  our  friends ;  but  if 
these  words  do  not  teach  us,  that  it  is  in  some 
respects  our  duty  to  give  a  preference  to  the 
poor,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  them. 

1  was  enabled  to  set  out  upon  the  plan  I 
recommend  to  you,  at  a  time  when  my  cer- 
tain income  was  nmch  too  scanty  for  my  ovvn 
provision,  and  before  I  had  the  expectation  or 
promise  of  assistance  from  any  person  upon 
earth.  Only  I  knew  that  the  Lord  could  pro- 
vide me  with  whatever  he  saw  needful ;  and 
I  trusted,  that  if  he  kept  me  dependant  upon 
himself,  and  desirous  to  live  for  his  service 
only,  he  assuredly  would  do  so.  I  have  aa 
yet  seen  no  cause  to  repent  it.  I  live  upon 
his  promise ;  for  as  to  any  present  ways  or 
means,  every  thin^  here  below  is  so  uncer- 
tain, that  I  consider  myself  in  the  same 
situation  with  the  birds  of  the  air,  who  have 
neither  store-house  nor  barn.  To-day  I  have 
enough  for  myself,  and  something  to  impart 
to  them  that  need ;  as  to  futurity,  the  Lord 
must  provide ;  and  for  the  most  part  I  can 
believe  he  will.  I  can  tell  you,  however, 
that  now  and  then  my  heart  is  pinched ;  un- 
belief creeps  in,  and  self  would  much  rather 
choose  a  strong  box,  or  what  the  world  calls 
a  certainty,  than  a  life  of  absolute  depend- 
ence upon  the  providence  of  God.  However, 
in  my  composed  hours  I  am  well  satisfied. 
Hitherto  he  has  graciously  taken  care  of  me ; 
therefore  may  my  heart  trust  in  him,  and  not 
be  afraid. 

Consider,  my  friend,  the  Lord  has  done 
well  for  you  likewise.  He  has  settled  you 
peaceably  in  a  good  and  honourable  interest; 
he  has  now  answered  your  prayers,  in  giving 
you  a  partner,  with  whom  you  may  take 
sweet  counsel,  one  that  will  help  and 
strengthen  you  in  your  best  desires.  Be- 
ware, therefore,  of  that  reasoning  which 
might  lead  you  to  distrust  the  Lord  your 
God,  or  to  act  as  if  you  did.  You  complain 
that  there  is  too  much  of  an  expensive  taste 
among  some  persons  in  your  congregation. 
Ifyou  set  yourself  to  discountenance  this,  and 
should  at  the  same  time  too  closely  shut  up 
your  hand,  they  will  be  ready  to  charge  you 
with  being  governed  by  the  same  worldly 
spirit,  though  in  another  form.  If  you  have 
been  hitherto  tender  and  bountiful  to  the 


114 


TO  A  STUDENT  IN  DIVINITY. 


[lbt.  n: 


poor,  and  should  mako  too  great  and  too  sud- 
den an  alteration  in  this  respect,  if  the  hlame 
should  not  fall  upon  you,  it  probably  would 
upon  your  wife,  who,  I  believe,  would  be  far 
from  deservinfr  it.     If  the  house  which  had 
been  open  to  the  poor  in  former  times,  should 
be  shut  ajrainst  them,  now  you  live  in  it, 
would  it  not  lead  the  people's  thoughts  back  ? 
Would  it  not  open  the  mouths  of  those  who 
do  not  love  your  ministry,  to  say.  That,  not- 
■\vithstandin<i[-  all  your  zeal  about  doctrines, 
you  know  how  to  take  care  of  your  own  in- 
terest,  as  well   as   those  whom   you    have 
thought   indifferent   and    lukewarm    in   the 
cause  of  the  rrospel  1     Would  it  not  1     But 
1  forbear.     I  know  you  need  no  such  argu- 
ments.     Yet  consider  how  many  eyes  are 
upon  you,  watching  for  your  halting.     Now, 
at  your  first  setting  out,  is  the  proper  time 
seriously  to  seek  the  Lord's  direction,  that 
you  may,  from  the  beginning,  adopt  such  a 
plan  as  may  be  most  for  your  own  comfort,  the 
honour  of  your  character  as  a  minister,  the 
glory  of  him  who  has  called  you,  and  the  edi- 
fication of  your  people.     It  is  easier  to  begin 
well,  than  to  make  alterations   afterwards. 
I  trust  the  Lord  will  guide  and  bless  you  in 
your  deliberations.     And,  for  my  own  part, 
I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid,  that  you  will 
ever  have  cause  to  blame  me  for  the  advice 
I  have  given,  if  you  should  be  disposed  to 
follow  it. 

I  have  given  you  my  opinion  freely,  and, 
perhaps,  with  an  appearance  of  more  strict- 
ness than  is  necessary.  But  I  would  apply 
our  Lord's  words  in  another  case  to  this: 
"  All  men  cannot  receive  this  saying ;  he 
that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  it." 
If  the  Lord  has  given  you  this  confidence  in 
his  word,  you  are  happy.  It  is  better  than 
the  possession  of  thousands  by  the  year. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

Extract  of  a  Letter  to  a  Student  in  Divinity. 

DEA.R  SIR, — The  subject  of  your  last  is  im- 
portant. I  can  sympathise  with  your  anxiety, 
having  known  much  of  it  myself,  and  there- 
fore willingly  devote  my  first  leisure  to  your 
service.  But  shall  I  indeed  condole  with 
you  ]  or  shall  I  rather  congratulate  you  on 
the  perplexity  you  complain  of?  I  know  it 
is  not  pleasing;  but  I  hope  it  will  be  sancti- 
fied and  profitable  to  you. 

Though  I  am  no  enemy  to  the  acquisition 
of  useful  knowledge,  I  have  seen  many  in- 
stances of  young  men  who  have  been  much 
hurt  by  what  they  expected  to  reap  advan- 
tage from.  They  have  gone  to  the  academy 
humble,  peaceable,  spiritual,  and  lively;  but 
have  come  out  self-wise,  dogmatical,  censo- 
rious, an  J  full  of  a  prudence  founded  upon 


the  false  maxims  of  the  world.  I  have  been 
ready  to  address  them  with  that  line  of  l^Iil- 
ton: 

"  If  thou  art  he— But  ah  !  how  fall'ii !" 

I  do  not  mention  this  as  the  necessary 
fault  of  the  institution,  but  as  the  frequent 
effect  of  notions  too  hastily  picked  up,  when 
not  sanctified  by  grace,  nor  balanced  by  a 
proportionable  depth  of  spiritual  experience. 
I  nm  therefore  glad  to  hear,  that  notwith- 
standing the  advantages  you  have  had  in  the 
pursuit  of  your  studies,  you  feel  an  inward 
conviction,  that  you  still  need  something 
which  you  cannot  receive  from  men,  or 
books,  in  order  to  complete  your  fitness  for 
the  ministry ;  that  you  may  be  "  a  workman 
that  needs  not  to  be  ashamed,"  and  enabled 
rightly  to  divide  (to  distinguish  and  distribute) 
the  word  of  truth. 

It  seems  to  me  a  point  of  more  curiosity 
than  use,  to  inquire  too  nicely  into  the  modus 
of  the  Holy  Spirit's  assistance  in  the  com- 
posure and  delivery  of  sermons.  If  we  can- 
not exactly  state  the  boundaries  between 
what  we  may  deem  the  result  of  our  own 
thoughts,  and  the  needful  influence  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  it  seems  a  safe  way  to  give  him 
the  honour  of  the  whole,  and  to  attribute 
nothing  to  our  selves  but  our  infirmities.  If 
we  have  a  capacity,  means  for  improvement,, 
diligence  to  make  use  of  these  means,  and 
if  that  diligence  is  attended  with  any  degree 
of  success,  may  we  not  acknowledge,  that 
the  former  links  of  this  chain  are  the  effects 
of  his  goodness  and  favour,  no  less  than  the 
latter? 

To  the  question,  How  far  is  it  lawful  to 
expect  this  assistance  ?  I  answer.  It  is  law- 
ful very  far,  even  to  lay  the  whole  stress  up- 
on it,  so  as  to  be  firmly  persuaded  that  we 
can  neither  meditate  nor  speak  to  purpose 
without  it ;  that  if  we  have  not  this  assist- 
ance, whatever  else  we  have,  or  may  think 
we  have,  we  shall  but  "  darken  counsel  by 
words  without  knowledge."  For  this,  I 
think,  I  have  warrant  in  John  xv.  5.  If  any 
person  supposes  he  has  so  far  mastered  a 
system  of  divinity,  that  though  he  can  indeed 
do  better  with  the  Spirit's  assistance,  yet  he 
can  make  a  tolerable  shift  without  it,  I  envy 
him  not  this  attainment. 

But  if  the  question  intends,  How  far  a  de- 
pendence upon  the  Holy  Spirit  may  lawfully 
supersede  the  use  of  means  ?  I  answer.  Not 
in  the  least  The  blessing  and  the  mean* 
are  so  closely  united,  that  they  cannot  be 
separated.  The  blessing  may  be  surely  ex- 
pected, if  diligently  sought  in  the  use  of 
proper  means  ;  and  we  have  no  just  reason 
to  expect  it  without  them.  But  to  clear  up 
the  whole,  let  it  be  considered.  What  may 
deserve  the  name  of  diligence  in  this  matter  % 
and  wliat  are  the  proper  means  ? 

By  diligence,  I  understand  spiritual  dili- 


LET.  II.] 


TO  A  vSTUDMNT  IN  DIVLMTY. 


iir, 


grenco;  sucli  an  nctivo,  iinprovini:;',  indus- 
trious hahiU  us  is  pc«'uliar  to  a  hcnrt  im- 
{)ress(>(l  with  soiuo  real  iibiilirifj  sonso  of  the* 
ovo  of  (io(l,  tlio  worth  of  souls,  tho  shortness 
of  tiino,  uiul  tho  iinjK)rtanc»>  of  ott-ruity. 
Without  this  turn  of  tniiul,  thou<rh  a  man 
ehouUi  spond  si\to»Mi  hours  ovory  day  in  his 
etudy,  ho  may  ho  a  moro  triflor.  The  proat- 
est  part  of  his  ni)i)lioation  will  ho  spont  on 
what  is  least  nccos.sary,  and  his  knowlednfo 
will  chiefly  prove  of  that  sort  which  puH'oth 
up,  without  communicatinsr  any  real  benefit. 
Gen.  .\li.  21.  Psal.  cxxvii.  "2. 

The  chief  means  for  attaininnf  wisdom, 
and  suitiihle  jjitls  for  the  ministry,  are,  the 
holy  scriptures  and  prayer.  The  one  is  the 
fountain  of  livin}]f  water,  the  other  the 
bucket  with  which  we  are  to  draw.  And  f 
believe  you  will  tind,  by  obserxnition,  that 
the  man  who  is  most  frecpicnt  and  fervent  in 
prayer,  and  most  devoted  to  the  word  of  (iod, 
will  shine  and  flourish  above  his  fellows. 
Next  to  these,  and  derived  from  them,  is 
meditation.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  a  stated 
exercise  upon  some  one  particular  subject,  .so 
much  as  a  disposition  of  mind  to  observe 
carefully  what  passes  within  us  and  around 
us ;  what  we  see,  hear,  and  feel ;  and  to  apply 
all  for  the  illustration  and  confirmation  of 
the  written  word  to  us.  In  the  use  of  tliesc 
means,  and  an  humble  dependence  upon  the 
Lord  in  all  the  chanofino^  dispensations  we 
pass  through,  our  spiritual  experience  will 
enlarge ;  and  this  experience  is  the  proper 
fund  of  our  ministerial  capacity,  so  far  as  it 
may  be  considered  inherent  in  us.  Prov. 
xvi.  23.  Mat.  xiii.  52.  1  John  i.  3. 

These  means  are  of  universal  importance. 
The  wisest  can  do  nothing  without  them ; 
the  weakest  shall  not  use  them  in  vain. 
There  are  likewise  subordinate  means,  which 
may  be  helpful,  and  should  in  general  be  at- 
tended to.  Yet  they  ought  not,  I  apprehend, 
to  be  considered  as  a  sine  qua  non  in  a  mi- 
nister's call  and  fitness.  The  first  preachers 
had  them  not,  and  some  in  the  present  day 
are  enabled  to  do  well  without  them.  Under 
this  head,  I  principally  intend  all  that  comes 
under  the  usual  denomination  of  literature. 
A  competent  acquaintance  with  the  learned 
languages,  history,  natural  philosophy,  &c. 
is  very  desirable.  If  these  things  are  held 
in  a  proper  subserviency,  if  they  do  not  en- 
gross too  much  of  our  time,  nor  add  fuel  to 
the  fire  of  that  self  importance  which  is  our 
great  snare,  they  may  contribute  to  increase 
and  enlarge  our  ideas,  and  facilitate  our 
expressing  ourselves  with  propriety.  But 
these  attainments,  like  riches,  are  attended 
with  their  peculiar  temptations ;  and  unless 
they  are  under  the  regulation  of  a  sound 
judgment,  and  spiritual  frame  of  mind,  will 
prove,  like  Saul's  armour  to  David,  rather 
cumbersome  than  useful  in  preaching.  The 
Berraons  of  preachers  this  (qualified  are  often 


more  ingenious  than  edify wijf,  and  rntherBot 
off  the  man,  than  conunend  Ifie  goKjM'i  of 
('hrist. 

As  you  desire  my  advice  with  roHpoct  to 
your  future  studies,  I  shall  comply,  without 
hesitation  or  ceremony. 

'l'h(^  oriiiinal  scriptures  well  deserve  your 
pains,  and  W'ill  richly  rejKiy  them.  There  is, 
doubtless,  a  beauty,  fulness,  and  spirit,  in 
the  originals,  which  the  best  translations  do 
not  always  (wpre.ss.  When  a  word  or 
phrase  admits  of  v<irious  st-nses,  the  transla- 
tors can  only  preserve  one ;  and  it  is  not  to 
be  supposed,  unless  they  were  perfectly  un- 
der tiie  influence  of  the  same  infallible  Spirit, 
that  they  should  always  prefer  the  best. 
Only  be  upon  your  guard,  lest  you  should  Ix* 
tempted  to  think,  that  because  you  are  ma.ster 
of  the  granunatical  construction,  and  can  tell 
the  several  acceptations  of  the  words  in  the 
best  authors,  you  are  therefore  and  thereby 
master  of  the  spiritual  sense  likewise.  This 
you  must  derive  from  your  experimental 
knowledge,  and  the  influence  and  teaching 
of  the  Spirit  of  God. 

Another  thing  which  will  much  assist  you 
in  composing,  and  speaking  properly  and  ac- 
ceptably, is  logic.  This  will  teach  you  what 
properly  belongs  to  your  subject,  and  what 
may  be  best  suppressed  ;  and  likewise  to  ex- 
plam,  divide,  enumerate,  and  range  your 
ideas  to  advantage.  A  lax,  immethodical, 
disproportionate  manner  is  to  be  avoided  ; 
yet  beware  of  the  contrary  extreme.  An 
affected  starchness  and  over-accuracy  will 
fetter  you,  will  make  your  discourse  lean 
and  dry,  preclude  an  useful  variety,  and 
savour  more  of  the  school-lamp,  than  of  that 
heavenly  fire,  which  alone  can  make  our 
meditations  efficacious,  and  profitable  either 
to  ourselves  or  our  hearers.  The  proper  me- 
dium can  hardly  be  taught  by  rule  ;  experi- 
ence, observation,  and  prayer,  are  the  best 
guides. 

As  your  inquiry  seems  chiefly  to  be.  How 
to  fill  up  your  outlines "?  I  would  advise  you 
to  study  the  living,  as  well  as  the  dead,  or 
rather  more.  Converse  much  with  experi- 
enced christians,  and  exercised  souls.  You 
will  find  advantage  in  this  respect,  not  only 
from  the  wise,  but  from  the  weak  of  the  flock. 
In  the  course  of  your  acquaintance,  you  will 
meet  with  some  in  a  backsliding  state,  some 
under  temptations,  some  walking  m  dark- 
ness, others  rejoicing  in  the  light,  &:c.  Ob- 
serve how  their  spirits  work,  what  they  say, 
and  how  they  reason  in  their  several  cases ; 
what  methods  and  arguments  you  find  most 
successful  in  comforting  the  feeble-minded, 
raising  up  those  who  are  cast  down,  and 
the  like ;  and  what  answers  they  return. 
Compare  these  with  the  word  of  God,  and 
your  own  heart.  What  you  observe  of  ten 
persons  in  these  different  situations,  may  be 
applied  to  ten  thousand.     For  though  some 


116 


TO  A  STUDENT  IN  DIVINITY. 


[let.  II. 


circumstances  vary,  the  heart  of  man,  the 
aids  of  grace,  and  the  artiticcs  of  Satan,  in 
gfeneral,  are  universally  the  same.  And 
whenever  you  are  to  jiroach,  rememher  that 
Bome  of  all  these  sorts  will  probahly  be  before 
you,  and  each  should  have  something-  said  to 
their  own  peculiar  case. 

The  tempted  and  distressed  will  be  most 
probably  relieved,  by  opening"  the  various 
states  and  exercises  of  the  heart,  and  by 
showing,  from  scriptural  and  other  examples, 
that  no  new  thing'  has  befallen  them.  The 
careless  and  backsliders,  who  have  made  a 
profession,  should  be  reminded  of  that  bless- 
edness they  once  spoke  of,  and  warned  of 
their  danger.  Those  who  are  now  upon  the 
mount,  should  be  cautioned  to  expect  a 
change,  and  to  guard  against  security  and 
spiritual  pride.  To  the  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins  (some  such  will  be  always  present,)  it 
is  needful  to  preach  the  spiritualit^'  and  sanc- 
tion of  the  law,  that  they  may  be  stirred  up 
to  seek  Jesus.  Of  him  all  awakened  souls 
love  to  hear  much.  Let  him,  therefore,  be 
your  capital  subject.  If  you  discuss  some 
less  essential  topic,  or  bend  all  your  strength 
to  clear  up  some  dark  text,  though  you  should 
display  much  learning  and  ingenuity,  you 
will  probably  fall  short  of  your  main  design, 
which  I  dare  say,  will  be  to  promote  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  g-ood  of  souls. 

You  will  likewise  find  advantage,  by  at- 
tending as  much  as  you  can  on  those  preach- 
ers, whom  God  has  blessed  with  much  power, 
life,  and  success  in  their  ministry ;  and  in 
this  you  will  do  Vv^ell  not  to  confine  yourself 
to  any  denomhiation  or  party ;  for  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  not  confined.  DiSerent  men 
have  different  gifts  and  talents.  I  would  not 
wish  you  to  be  a  slavish  admirer  of  any  man. 
Christ  alone  is  our  Master  and  Teacher.  But 
study  the  excellencies  of  each ;  and  if  you 
observe  a  fault  in  any  (for  no  human  models 
are  perfect,)  you  will  see  what  you  are  your- 
self to  avoid. 

Your  inquiries  respectin^r  my  own  experi- 
ence on  this  subject,  must  be  answered  very 
briefly.  I  have  long  since  learned,  that  if  I 
was  ever  to  be  a  minister,  faith  and  prayer 
must  make  me  one.  I  desire  to  seek  the 
Lord's  direction,  both  in  the  choice  and  man- 
agement of  subjects ;  but  I  do  not  expect  it 
in  a  way  of  extraordinary  impulse,  but  in 
endeavouring  to  avail  myself,  to  the  best 
of  my  judgment,  of  present  circumstances. 
The  converse  I  have  with  my  people  usually 
suggests  what  I  am  to  preach  to  them.  At 
first,  my  chief  solicitude  used  to  be,  what  I 
should  find  to  say ;  I  hope  it  is  now,  rather 
that  I  may  not  speak  in  vain.  For  the  I^rd 
has  sent  me  here,  not  to  acquire  the  charac- 
ter of  a  ready  speaker,  but  to  win  souls  to 
Christ,  and  to  edify  his  people.  As  to  pre- 
paration, I  make  little  use  of  books,  except- 
ing the  Bible  and  Concordance.    Though  I 


preach  without  notes,  I  must  frequently 
write  more  or  less  upon  the  subject  Often, 
when  I  begin,  I  am  at  a  loss  how  I  shall  pro- 
ceed ;  but  one  thing  insensibly  offers  after 
another;  and  in  general,  I  believe,  the  best 
and  most  useful  parts  of  my  sermon  occur  de 
novo,  while  I  am  preaching.  This  reminds 
me  of  Luther's  maxim,  "  Bene  jyrecdsse  est. 
bene  studuisse.'^  When  I  can  find  my  heart 
in  frame  and  liberty  for  prayer,  every  thing 
else  is  comparatively  easy. 

I  should  be  very  glad  if  any  thing  I  have 
offered,  may  afford  you  satisfaction.  The 
sum  of  my  advice  is  this :  Examine  your 
heart  and  views.  Can  you  appeal  to  him 
who  knows  all  things  concerning  the  sin- 
cerity of  your  aim,  that  you  devote  yourself 
to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  not  for  worldly 
regards,  but  with  an  humble  desire  to  pro- 
mote the  Redeemer's  kingdom  ?  If  so,  and 
his  providence  has  thus  far  concurred  with 
you,  trust  him  for  your  sufficiency  of  every 
kmd,  and  he  will  not  disappoint  you,  but  will 
be  near  to  strengthen  you  according  to  your 
day.  Depend  not  upon  any  cisterns  you  can 
hew  out  for  yourself,  but  rejoice  that  you  have 
liberty  to  come  to  the  fountain  that  is  always 
full,  and  always  flowing.  Y'ou  must  not  expect 
a  mechanical  sufficiency,  such  as  artificers  ac- 
quire by  habit  and  exercise  in  their  business. 
When  you  have  preached  well  nineteen 
times,  this  will  be  no  security  for  the  twen- 
tieth. Yea,  when  you  have  been  upheld  for 
twenty  years,  should  the  Lord  withhold  his 
hand,  you  would  be  as  much  at  a  loss  as  at 
first. 

If  you  lean  upon  books  or  men,  or  upon 
your  own  faculties  and  attainments,  you  will 
be  in  fear  and  in  danger  of  falling  continual- 
ly. But  if  you  stay  yourself  upon  the  Lord, 
he  w411  not  only  make  good  your  expecta- 
tions, but  in  time  will  give  you  a  becoming 
confidence  in  his  goodness,  and  free  you 
from  your  present  anxiety. 

One  thing  more  I  must  mention  as  belong- 
ing to  the  subject :  That  a  comfortable  free-  | 
dom  for  public  service  depends  nmch  upon  ' 
the  spirituality  of  our  walk  before  God  and 
man.  Wisdom  will  not  dwell  with  a  trifling, 
an  assuming,  a  censorious,  or  a  worldly  spirit. 
But  if  it  is  our  business,  and  our  pleasure,  to 
contemplate  Jesus,  and  to  walk  in  his  steps, 
he  will  bless  us;  we  shall  be  like  trees 
planted  by  a  constant  stream,  and  he  will 
prosper  the  work  of  our  hands. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  in. 

A  letter  to  a  friend,  on  the  Question,  Wheth." 
er  the  sins  of  believers  shall  be  publicly 
declared  at  the  great  day?  or,  how  are  we 
to  understand  the  apostle's  assertion,  '•'we 
must  all  appear  before  the  judgment-se^ 


urr.  ni.] 


OX  2  COR.  V.  10,  AiND  ROM.  XIV.  12. 


117 


of  Christ ;  that  rvcry  nnr  may  rrcrive  the 
thinii;s  dour  in  his  htult/,  arcordint;  In  that 
he  hath  duiu .,  whcthrr  it  be  <rood  or  had .'" 
2  Cor.  V.  10,  comjHtred  with  Roni.  xiv.  12. 

MY  DEAR  sm, — My  heart  congratulates 
you.  What  chanijos  and  events  many, 
m  yoiinjor  lite,  cnay  be  reserved  to  see,  wlio 
can  tell  ?  But  your  pilijriinafro  is  nearly 
finished;  you  stand  upon  the  river's  brink, 
with  the  city  full  in  view,  waitiufj  and  wish- 
ing" for  the  ap{X)inted  hour.  You  need  not  be 
anxious  concerninij  your  passaf,'^e;  for  every 
circumstance  attendinf,'  it  is  already  adjusted 
by  infinite  wisdom  and  love,  and  the  Kini( 
himself  will  bf>  ready  to  receive  you.  Wiiile 
you  continue  here,  I  am  g:lad  to  hear  from 
you,  and  siiould  be  n^lad  to  contribute  in  any 
way  or  degree  to  your  satisfaction,  or  even 
to  show  my  willingness,  if  I  can  do  no  more. 
I  can  propose  little  more  than  the  latter,  by 
offering  my  thoughts  on  the  subject  you  pro- 
pose from  2  Cor.  v.  10,  and  the  apparent 
difficulty  of  understanding  that  passag-c,  in 
full  harmony  with  the  many  texts  wliich 
seem  expressly  to  assert,  that  the  sins  of  be- 
lievers are  so  forgiven  as  to  be  remembered 
no  more. 

There  is  doubtless,  as  you  observe,  a  per- 
fect consistence  in  every  part  of  the  word 
of  God ;  the  difficulties  we  meet  with  are 
wholly  owing  to  the  narrowness  of  our  fa- 
culties, and  the  ignorance  which,  in  some 
decrree,  is  inseparable  from  our  present  state 
of  imperfection.  And  we  may,  in  general, 
rest  satisfied  with  the  thought,  that  there  is 
a  bright  moment  approaching,  w4ien  the 
veil  shall  be  wholly  taken  away.  It  is  the 
|nrt  of  faith  to  rest  upon  the  plain  declara- 
tions of  Scripture,  without  indulging  a 
blameable  curiosity  of  knowing  more  than  is 
clearly  revealed;  yet,  while  we  humbly  de- 
pend upon  divine  teaching,  it  is  right  to  aim 
at  as  enlarged  a  sense  of  what  is  revealed 
as  we  can  attain  ta  Every  acquisition 
of  this  kind  is  more  valuable  than  gold,  es- 
pecially respecting  those  points  which  have 
an  immediate  tendency  to  comfort  and  sup- 
port us  under  the  view  of  an  approaching 
dissolution.  The  question  you  have  propo- 
sed is  undoubtedly  of  this  nature. 

May  the  Lord  direct  my  thoughts  and  pen, 
that  I  may  not  "  darken  counsel  by  words 
without  knowledge  !"  I  have  been  looking 
over  the  passage  you  refer  to  in  Dr.  Ridgely, 
and  think  I  mitrht  be  well  excused  from  say- 
ing any  thing  further  on  the  subject,  as  he 
hath  briefly  and  fully  stated  all  the  argu- 
ments that  have  occurred  to  me  on  either 
side  of  the  question,  and  closes  with  a  proper 
caution  not  to  be  peremptory  in  determining, 
lest  by  attempting  to  be  wise  above  what  is 
written,  I  should  betray  my  own  folly.  Yet, 
as  you  desire  to  have  my  thoughts,  I  must 
say  something.     I  wish  I  may  not  give  you 


reason  to  think  that  thiri  caution  hn.i  Ix-cn  iovt 
iijxni  me. 

I  tiiiiik  all  the  great  truths  in  which  wo 
are  concerned,  are  clearly,  and  exprewily 
laid  dowt),  not  only  in  one,  but  in  triniiy  pla- 
ces of  scripture ;  hut  it  HometiinoH  happt-ns, 
that  here  and  there  we  nieet  with  a  text, 
which,  in  the  first  and  obvious  w)und  of  tlio 
words,  seems  to  speak  diffi'renlly  from  what 
is  ajvsertcd  more  largely  elsewhere  ;  which 
texts,  singly  taken,  afford  some  men  their 
only  ground  for  the  hypothesis  they  maintain. 
Thus  the  Arians  lay  a  great  stress  on  John 
xiv.  2>',  and  the  Arminians  on  James  ii.  24, 
&.C.  But  their  true  interpretation  is  to  be 
sought  according  to  the  analogy  of  faith. 
They  are  capable  of  a  sense  agreeable  to 
the  others,  though  the  others  are  not  intelli- 
gible in  the  sense  they  would  fix  upon  these. 
In  like  manner,  I  would  say,  whatever  may 
be  the  precise  meaning  of  2  Cor.  v.  10,  we 
are  sure  it  cannot  be  designed  to  weaken 
what  we  are  taught  in  almost  every  page,  of 
the  free,  absolute  and  unalterable  nature 
of  a  believer's  justification ;  the  benefit  of 
which,  as  to  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  is  signi- 
fied by  the  phrases  of  "  blotting  out," — "  not 
remembering," — "casting  behind  the  back," 
— and  "into  the  depths  of  the  sea."  The 
sins  of  a  believer  are  so  effectually  removed, 
that  even  when,  or  if  they  are  sought  for, 
they  cannot  be  found ;  for  Jesus  has  borne 
them  away :  believers  are  complete  in  him, 
and  clothed  in  his  righteousness.  They  shall 
stand  before  God  without  spot  or  wrinkle. 
Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  their  charge? 

But  it  is  probable  that  those  stray  expres- 
sions chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  respect  the 
guilt,  imputation,  and  deserved  consequences 
of  sin. — None  can  suppose  that  the  Lord 
will,  or  can  forget  the  sins  of  his  people,  or 
that  they  can  ever  be  hid  from  his  all-com- 
prehending view.  Neither  can  I  think  they 
themselves  will  forget  them.  Their  song  is 
founded  upon  a  recollection  of  their  sins  and 
their  circumstances  in  this  life.  Rev.  v.  9; 
and  their  love,  and  consequently,  their  hap- 
piness, seems  inseparably  connected  with  the 
consciousness  of  what  they  were,  and  what 
they  had  done,  Luke  vii.  4*7.  And  I  think 
those  are  the  sweetest  moments  in  this  life, 
w^hen  we  have  the  clearest  sense  of  our  own 
sins,  provided  the  sense  of  our  acceptance  in 
the  Beloved  is  proportionably  clear,  and  we 
feel  the  consolations  of  his  love,  notwith- 
standing all  our  transgressions.  When  we 
arrive  in  glory,  unbelief  and  fear  will  cease 
for  ever;  our  nearness  to  God,  and  commu- 
nion with  him,  will  be  unspeakable  beyond 
what  Ave  can  now  conceive.  Therefore,  the 
remembrance  of  our  sins  will  be  no  almte- 
ment  of  our  bliss,  but  rather  the  contrary. 
When  Pharaoh  and  his  host  were  alive,  and 
pursuing  them,  the  Israelites  were  terrified ; 
but  afterwards,  when  they  saw  their  enemies 


118 


ON  FAMILY- WORSHIP. 


[let.  ir. 


dead  upon  the  shoro,  their  joy  and  triumph 
were  not  abated,  but  heightened,  by  the  con- 
sideration of  their  number. 

With  respect  to  our  sins  being-  made  known 
toothers,  I  acknowledge  with  you,  that  I  could 
not  now  bear  to  have  any  of  my  fellow  crea- 
tures made  acciuauitcd  with  what  passes  in 
my  heart  for  a  single  day;  but,  I  apprehend 
it  is  a  part,  and  a  proof  of  my  present  de- 
pravity, that  I  feel  myself  disposed  to  pay  so 
great  a  regard  to  the  judgment  of  men, 
while  I  am  so  little  aticcted  with  wliat  I  am 
in  the  sight  of  a  pure  and  holy  God.  But 
I  believe  that  liereafler,  when  self  shall  be 
entirely  rooted  out,  and  my  will  perfectly 
united  to  the  divine  will,  I  should  feel  no  re- 
luctance, supposing  it  for  the  manifestation  of 
his  glorious  grace,  that  men,  angels,  and 
devils,  should  know  the  very  worst  of  me. 
Whether  it  will  be  so  or  no,  I  dare  not  deter- 
mine. Perhaps  the  difficulty  chiefly  lies  in 
the  necessity  of  our  being  at  present  taught 
heavenly  things  by  earthly.  In  the  descrip- 
tions we  have  of  tlie  great  day,  allusion  is 
made  to  what  is  most  solemn  in  human  trans- 
actions. The  ideas  of  the  judgment-seat, 
the  great  trumpet,  of  the  book  being  opened, 
and  the  pleadings.  Matt.  xxv.  37  11,  seem 
to  be  borrowed  from  the  customs  that  obtain 
amongst  men,  to  help  our  weak  conceptions, 
rather  than  justly  and  fully  to  describe  what 
will  be  the  real  process.  Now,  w^hen  we  at- 
tempt to  look  into  the  unseen  world,  we 
carry  our  ideas  of  time  and  place,  and  sensi- 
ble objects,  along  with  us;  and  we  cannot 
divest  ourselves  of  them,  or  provide  ourselves 
with  better :  yet,  perhaps,  they  have  as  little 
relation  to  the  objects  we  aim  at,  as  the  ideas 
which  a  man  born  blind  acquires  from  what 
he  hears  and  feels,  have  to  the  true  nature 
of  light  and  colours.  ]Mr.  Locke  mentions 
one,  who,  after  much  thought  and  conversa- 
tion, supposed  he  had  got  a  tolerable  notion 
of  scarlet,  and  that  it  was  something  nearly 
resemblino'  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  Per- 
haps, this  is  no  improper  emblem  of  the  ut- 
most we  can  attain  to,  when  we  are  endea- 
vouring to  realize  the  solemnities  of  the 
judgment-day.  What  we  mean  by  memory 
and  reasoning,  may  possibly  have  no  place 
in  the  world  of  spirits.  We  guess  at  some- 
thing more  suitable,  perhaps,  when  we  use 
the  term  intuition.  But  I  apprehend  we 
must  die  before  we  can  fully  understand 
what  it  signifies :  perhaps,  thoughts  may  be 
as  intelligible  there  as  words  are  here. 

In  a  word,  my  dear  Sir,  if  I  have  not  given 
you  satisfaction  (I  am  sure  I  have  not  satis- 
fied myself,)  accept  my  apology  in  the  words 
of  a  much  wiser,  and  an  inspired  man  :  "  Such 
knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for  me :  it  is 
high,  I  cannot  attain  unto  it."  Ere  long 
we  shall  know :  in  the  mean  while  our  cause 
is  in  sure  hands ;  we  have  a  shepherd  who 
will  guide  us  below,  an  Advocate  who  will 


receive  and  present  us  before  the  throne 
above.  I  trust  we  meet  daily  before  the 
throne  of  grace ;  hereafter  we  shall  meet  in 
glory.  The  paper  will  allow  no  more.  Be- 
lieve me  yours  in  the  Lord,  &lc. 


LETTER  IV. 
To  Theron,  on  Family  Worship. 

SIR, — A  neglect  of  family-prayer  is,  I  am 
afraid,  too  common  amongst  professors  in  this 
day.  I  am  glad  that  you  consider  it  both  as 
a  duty  and  a  privilege,  and  are  by  grace  de- 
termined, that  when  you  shall  commence 
master  of  a  family,  you  will  worship  God 
with  all  your  house.  It  was  Abraham's  com- 
mendation, that  he  not  only  served  the  Lord 
himself,  but  was  solicitous  that  his  children 
and  household  might  serve  him  likewise.  I 
trust  that  he  who  inclines  your  heart  to  walk 
in  the  footsteps  of  faithful  Abraham  will 
bless  you  in  the  attempt,  and  give  you  peace 
in  your  dwelling  ;  a  mercy  which  is  seldom 
enjoyed,  which,  indeed,  can  hardly  be  expect- 
ed by  those  families  which  call  not  upon  the 
Lord. 

Though  I  readily  comply  with  your  re- 
quest, and  should  be  glad  if  I  can  offer  any 
thing  that  may  assist  or  animate  you  in  your 
good  purpose ;  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  answer 
your  expectations  with  regard  to  the  parti- 
culars of  your  inquiry,  concerning  the  most 
proper  method  of  conducting  family  worship. 
The  circumstances  of  families  are  so  various, 
that  no  determinate  rules  can  be  laid  down, 
nor  has  the  word  of  God  prescribed  any ;  be- 
cause, being  of  universal  obligation,  it  is 
wisely  and  graciously  accommodated  to  suit 
the  different  situations  of  his  people.  You 
must,  therefore,  as  to  circumstantials,  judge 
for  yourself.  You  will  do  well  to  pursue 
such  a  method  as  you  shall  find  most  con- 
venient to  yourself  and  family,  without  scru- 
pulously binding  yourself,  when  the  scripture 
has  left  you  free. 

We  have  no  positive  precept  enjoining  us 
any  set  time  for  prayer,  nor  even  how  often 
we  should  pray,  either  in  public  or  private ; 
though  the  expressions  of,  "  continuing  in- 
stantin  prayer,"  "  praying  without  ceasing," 
and  the  like,  plainly  intimate  that  prayer 
should  be  frequent.  Daniel  praj'T?d  three 
times  a  day ;  which  the  Psalmist  speaks  of 
as  his  practice  likewise ;  and  in  one  place 
declares  his  purpose  of  praising  God  seven 
times  a  day.  This  last  expression  is,  perhaps, 
indefinite ;  not  precisely  seven  times,  but 
very  often.  Indeed,  a  person  who  lives  in 
the  exercise  of  faith  and  love,  and  who  finds, 
by  experience,  that  it  is  good  for  him  to  draw 
nigh  to  God,  will  not  want  to  be  told  how 
often  he  must  pray,  any  more  than  how  often 


LKT.  IV.] 


ON  FAMILY  WORSHIP. 


10 


he  must  convorHo  with  iin  oarthly  friend. 
TIkxso  wliorn  wo  lovo,  we  love  to  be  much 
with.  Ixive  is  the  be.st  casuist,  ami  eithi.-r 
resolves  or  prtn'ents  a  thousuiul  seruj)l(\s  iiiui 
questions,  which  may  perplex  those  who  only 
serve  Gtxl  from  principles  of  constraint  and 
fear.  And  a  believer  will  account  those  his 
happiest  days,  when  he  has  most  leisure,  and 
most  liberty  of  spirit,  for  th(^  e.xercise  of 
prayer.  However,  I  think  tainily  prayercan- 
not  be  said  to  be  stated,  unless  it  ho  performed 
at  k\ist  daily,  and  when  unavoidable  hinder- 
ances  do  not  prevent,  twice  a  day.  ThouLfh 
all  times  and  seasons  arc  alike  to  the  Ixjrd, 
and  his  ear  is  always  open,  whenever  we 
have  a  heart  to  call  upon  him ;  yet  to  us 
there  is  a  peculiar  suitableness  in  be<rinninn- 
and  closintr  the  day  with  prayer :  in  the  morn- 
ing,  toacknowledire  his  g'oodness  in  our  pre- 
servation throu<rh  the  night,  and  entreat  his 
presence  and  blessing-  on  our  persons  and 
calling's  in  the  course  of  the  day;  and  at 
night,  to  praise  him  for  tlic  mercies  of  the 
day  past,  to  humble  ourselves  before  him  for 
what  has  been  amiss,  to  wait  on  him  for  a  re- 
newed manifestation  of  his  pardoning  love, 
and  to  commit  ourselves  and  our  concerns 
to  his  care  and  protection  while  we  sleep. 
You  will  of  course  choose  those  hours  when 
you  arc  least  liable  to  be  incommoded  by  the 
calls  of  business,  and  when  the  family  can 
assemble  with  the  most  convenience;  only 
I  would  observe,  that  it  greatly  preserves 
regularity  and  good  order  in  a  house,  to  keep 
constantly  to  the  same  hours  when  it  is  prac- 
ticable; and  likewise,  that  it  is  best  not  to 
defer  evening-prayer  till  late,  if  it  can  be 
well  avoided,  lest  some  who  join  in  the  ex- 
ercise, and  perhaps  the  person  himself  w-lio 
leads  in  it,  should  be  too  weary  or  sleepy  to 
give  a  due  attention.  On  this  account,  I 
should  advise  to  have  family-prayer  before 
supper,  where  people  have  the  choice  and 
disposal  of  their  own  hours. 

I  think,  with  you,  that  it  is  very  expedient 
and  proper  that  reading  a  portion  of  the  word 
of  God  should  be  ordinarily  a  part  of  our  fa- 
mily-worship; so  likewise,  to  sing  a  hymn 
or  psalm,  or  part  of  one,  at  discretion,  pro- 
vided there  are  some  persons  in  the  family 
who  have  enough  of  the  musical  ear  and 
voice  to  conduct  the  singing  in  a  tolerable 
manner ;  otherwise,  perhaps,  it  may  be  better 
omitted.  If  you  read  and  sing,  as  well  as 
pray,  care  should  be  taken  that  the  combined 
services  do  not  run  into  an  inconvenient 
length. 

The  chief  thing  to  be  attended  to  is,  that 
It  may  be  a  spiritual  service ;  and  the  great 
evil  to  be  dreaded  and  guarded  against  in 
the  exercise  of  every  duty  that  returns  fre- 
quently upon  US,  is  formality.  If  a  stated 
course  of  family-prayer  is  kept  up  as  con- 
stantly in  its  season  as  the  striking  of  the 
clock,  it  mav  come  in  time  to  be  almost  as 


mechanicallv  porf<)rmed,  unlesH  wo  nro  con- 
tinually liM)king  to  the  Ixird  to  kofp  our 
hearts  alive.  It  most  fr<'quenlly  happ<>nii, 
that  one  or  mor(^  mendx-'rH  of  a  family  are 
unconverted  person.s.  When  there  ar(!  Huch 
pre.sent,  agn>at  regard  should  be  hud  to  them, 
and  ev(?ry  thing  conducted  with  a  view  to 
their  edification,  that  tliey  may  not  be  dis- 
gusted, or  wearied,  or  tem|)ted  to  think  that 
it  is  littl(»  more  than  the  fashion  or  cu.stom 
of  the  house;  which  will  pn^bably  be  the 
case,  uidess  the  mast(>r  of  tlu;  fimily  is  lively 
and  earnest  in  th(!  pi.'rformance  of  the  duty, 
and  likewise  circumspect  and  consistent  m 
every  part  of  his  behaviour  at  other  times. 
By  leading  in  the  worship  of  God  before  chil- 
dren, servants,  strangers,  a  man  gives 
bond,  as  it  were,  for  his  behaviour,  and  adds 
strength  to  every  other  motive  which  should 
engage  him  to  abstain  from  all  appearance 
of  evil.  It  should  be  a  constant  check  upon 
our  language  and  tempers  in  the  presence  of 
our  families,  to  consider  that  we  began  the 
day,  and  propose  to  end  it,  with  them  in 
prayer.  The  Apo.«tle  Peter  uses  this  argu- 
ment to  influence  the  conduct  of  husbands 
and  wives  towards  each  other ;  and  it  is 
equally  applicable  to  all  the  members  of  a 
family ;  "That  your  prayers  be  not  hindered :" 
tiiat  is,  either  prevented  and  cut  off,  or  de- 
spoiled of  all  life  and  efficacy,  by  the  fer- 
ment of  sinful  passions.  On  tiie  other  hand, 
the  proper  exercise  of  family-prayer,  when 
recommended  by  a  suitable  deportment,  is  a 
happy  means  of  instructing  children  and  ser- 
vants in  thegreattruthsofrelijjrion,  of  soften- 
ing their  prejudices,  and  inspiring  them  with 
a  temper  of  respect  and  affection,  which 
will  dispose  them  to  cheerful  obedience,  and 
make  them  unwilling  to  grieve  or  ofl^end.  In 
this  instance,  as  in  every  other,  we  may  ob- 
serve, that  the  Lord's  commands  to  his  peo- 
ple are  not  arbitrary  appointments,  but  that, 
so  far  as  they  are  conscientiously  complied 
with,  they  have  an  evident  tendency  and  suit- 
ableness to  promote  our  own  advantage.  He 
requires  us  to  acknowledge  him  in  our  fami- 
lies, for  our  own  sakes ;  not  because  he  has 
need  of  our  poor  services,  but  because  we  have 
need  of  his  blessing,  and  without  the  influ- 
ence of  his  grace  (which  is  promised  to  all 
who  seek  it)  are  sure  to  be  unhappy  in  our- 
selves and  in  all  our  connexions. 

When  husband  and  wife  are  happily  par- 
takers of  the  same  faith,  it  seems  expedient, 
and  for  their  mutual  good,  that,  besides  their 
private  devotions,  and  joining  in  family 
prayer,  they  should  pray  together.  They 
have  many  wants,  mercies,  and  concerns,  in 
common  with  each  other,  and  distinct  from 
the  rest  of  the  family.  The  manner  in 
which  they  should  improve  a  little  time  in 
this  joint  exercise  cannot  well  be  prescribed 
by  a  third  person;  yet  I  will  venture  to  sug- 
gest one  thing ;  and  the  rather  as  I  do  not 


120 


ON  THE  SNARES  AND  DIFFICULTIES,  &c. 


[let.  v. 


remcmbor  to  have  met  with  it  in  print.  1 
conceive  that  it  may  prove  much  to  their 
comtbrt  to  pray  alternately,  not  only  the 
husband  with  and  for  the  wife,  but  the  wife 
with  and  for  the  husband.  The  Spirit  of 
God  by  tlic  apostle,  ha.s  expressly  restrained 
women  from  the  exercise  of  spiritual  gifts  in 
public,  but  I  apprehend  the  practice  I  am 
speakinn^  of  can  no  way  interfere  with  that 
restriction.  I  suppose  them  in  private  to- 
gether, and  then  I  judge  it  to  be  equally  right 
and  proper  for  either  of  them  to  pray  with 
the  other.  Nor  do  I  meet  with  any  thing  in 
St.  Paul's  writings  to  prevent  my  thinking, 
that  if  he  had  been  a  married  man,  he  would, 
though  an  apostle,  have  been  glad  of  the 
prayers  of  his  wife.  If  you  a.sk,  how  often 
they  should  pray  together  ]  I  think  the  of- 
tener  the  better,  provided  it  does  not  break 
in  upon  their  duties ;  once  a  day  at  least ; 
and  if  there  is  a  choice  of  hours,  it  might  be 
as  well  at  some  distance  from  their  other 
seasons  of  worship.  But  I  would  observe, 
as  before,  that  in  matters  not  expressly  com- 
manded, prudence  and  experience  must  di- 
rect 

I  have  written  upon  the  supposition  that 
you  use  extempore  prayer;  but  as  there  are 
many  heads  of  families  who  fear  the  Lord, 
and  have  not  yet  attained  liberty  to  pray  ex- 
tempore before  others,  I  would  add,  that  their 
inability  in  this  respect,  whether  real,  or 
whether  only  proceeding  from  fear,  and  an 
undue  regard  to  self,  will  not  justify  them  in 
the  omission  of  family  prayer.  Helps  may 
be  procured.  Mr.  Jenk's  Devotions  are  in 
many  hands,  and  I  doubt  not  but  there  are 
other  excellent  books  of  the  same  kind,  with 
which  I  am  not  acquainted.  If  they  begin 
with  a  form,  not  with  a  design  to  confine 
themselves  always  to  one,  but  make  it  a  part 
of  their  secret  pleading  at  the  throne  of 
grace,  that  they  may  be  favoured  with  the 
gift  and  spirit  of  prayer;  and  accustom  them- 
selves while  they  use  a  form,  to  intersperse 
some  petitions  of  their  own ;  there  is  little 
doubt  but  they  will  in  time  find  a  growth  in 
liberty  and  ability,  and  at  length  lay  their 
book  entirely  aside.  For  it  being  every  be- 
liever's duty  to  worship  God  in  his  family, 
his  promise  may  be  depended  upon,  to  give 
them  a  sufficiency  in  all  things,  for  those 
services  which  he  requires  of  them. 

Happy  is  that  family  where  the  worship  of 
God  is  constantly  and  conscientiously  main- 
tained. Such  houses  are  temples,  in  which 
the  Lord  dwells,  and  castles  garrisoned  by  a 
divine  power.  I  do  not  say,  that,  by  honour- 
ing God  in  your  house,  you  will  wholly  es- 
cape a  share  in  the  trials  incident  to  the  pre- 
sent uncertain  state  of  things.  A  measure  of 
such  trials  will  be  necessary  for  the  exercise 
and  manifestation  of  your  graces,  to  give  you 
a  more  convincing  proof  of  the  truth  and 
sweetness  of  the  promises  made  to  a  time  of 


affliction  to  mortify  the  body  of  sin,  and  to 
wean  you  more  eiiectually  from  the  world. 
But  this  I  will  confidently  nay,  that  the  Lord 
will  both  honour  and  comfort  those  who  thus 
honour  him.  Seasons  will  occur  in  which 
you  shall  know,  and  probably  your  neighbours 
shall  be  constrained  to  take  notice,  that  he 
has  not  bid  you  seek  him  in  vain.  If  you 
meet  with  troubles,  they  shall  be  accompa- 
nied by  supports,  and  followed  by  deliver- 
ance; and  you  shall  upon  many  occasions 
experience,  that  he  is  your  protector,  pre- 
serving you  and  yours  from  the  evils  by 
whicii  you  will  see  others  suffering  around  J 
you.  \ 

I  have  rather  exceeded  the  limits  I  propo- 
sed, and  therefore  shall  only  add  a  request, 
that  in  your  addresses  at  the  throne  of  grace 
you  will  remember,  &.c. 


LETTER  V. 

On  the  Snares  and  Difjiculties  attending  the 
jSlinistry  of  the  Gospel. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  ar& 
ordained,  and  that  the  Lord  is  about  to  fix 
you  in  a  place  where  there  is  a  prospect  of 
your  being  greatly  useful.  He  has  given 
you  the  desire  of  your  heart ;  and  I  hope  he 
has  given  you  likewise  a  heart  to  devote 
yourself,  without  reserve,  to  his  service,  and 
the  service  of  souls  for  his  sake.  I  willingly 
comply  with  your  request;  and  shall  without 
ceremony,  ofier  you  such  thoughts  as  occur 
to  me  upon  this  occasion. 

You  have  doubtless  often  anticipated  in 
your  mind  the  nature  of  the  service  to  which 
you  are  now  called,  and  made  it  the  subject 
of  much  consideration  and  prayer.  But  a 
distant  view  of  the  ministry  is  generally  very 
different  from  what  it  is  found  to  be  when  we 
are  actually  engaged  in  it.  The  young  sol- 
dier, who  has  never  seen  an  enemy,  may- 
form  some  general  notions  of  what  is  before 
him ;  but  his  ideas  will  be  much  more  lively 
and  diversified  when  he  comes  upon  the  field 
of  battle.  If  the  Lord  was  to  show  us  the 
whole  beforehand,  who  that  has  a  due  sense 
of  his  own  insufficiency  and  weakness,  would 
venture  to  engage  ]  But  he  first  draws  us  by 
a  constraining  sense  of  his  love,  and  by  giv- 
iig  us  an  impression  of  the  worth  of  souls, 
and  leaves  us  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  what 
is  difficult  and  disagreeable  by  a  gradual  ex- 
perience. The  mmistry  of  the  gospel,  like 
the  book  which  the  apostle  John  ate,  is  a  bit- 
ter sweet ;  but  the  sweetness  is  tasted  first ; 
the  bitterness  is  usually  known  afterwards 
when  we  are  so  far  engaged  that  there  is  no 
going  back. 

Yet  I  would  not  discourage  you ;  it  is  a 
good  and  noble  cause,  and  we  serve  a  good 


^•1 


ON  THE  SNARES  AND  DIFFICULTIES,  ^c. 


121 


and  <:rnicioM<<  .Mustor;  who,  tlioiifjh  ho  will 
iiiak*'  tis  ffi'l  our  wo!ikin\ss  and  vilfiu'ss,  will 
not  siitK'r  us  to  sifik  iiixior  it.  His  ^rM-o  is 
surficiiMit  tor  us;  and  if  ho  tUvours  us  with 
ail  humbK»  and  do|HMidant  spirit,  ii  siu«;lo  oyo 
and  a  simple  hotirt,  ho  will  inako  ovory  ditli- 
culty  pivo  way,  ami  niouiitiiius  will  sink  into 
plains  iM'toro  his  j>owor. 

Vou  have  known  somethinsf  of  Satan's  do- 
vices  while  you  wore  in  private  life:  how  he 
has  envied  your  privil(\jj^es,  assaulted  your 
peaee,  and  laid  snares  for  your  teet:  thouirh 
tiie  lA)rd  would  not  sutler  iiiin  to  hurt  you, 
he  luus  permitted  him  to  sitl  and  tempt,  and 
sh(x)t  his  fiery  arrows  at  you.  Without  some 
of  this  discipline,  you  would  have  been  very 
unfit  for  that  part  of  your  oflico  whicli  con- 
sists in  speak in<:^  a  word  in  season  to  weary 
and  heavy-laden  souls.  But  you  may  now 
expect  to  hear  from  him,  and  to  be  beset  by 
his  power  and  subtilty  in  a  different  manner. 
You  are  now  to  be  placed  in  the  forefront 
of  the  battle,  and  to  stand  as  it  were,  for  his 
mark :  so  far  as  he  can  prevail  aijainst  you 
now,  not  yourself  only,  but  many  others,  will 
be  affected  ;  many  eyes  will  be  upon  you ; 
and  if  you  take  a  wrong-  step,  or  are  ensnared 
into  a  wrong  spirit,  you  will  open  the  mouths 
of  the  adversaries  wider,  and  g^riove  the 
licarts  of  believers  more  sensibly  than  if  the 
same  things  had  happened  to  you  while  you 
was  a  layman.  Tiie  word  of  the  ministry  is 
truly  honourable;  but,  like  the  post  of  honour 
in  a  battle,  it  is  attended  with  peculiar  dan- 
gers ;  therefore  the  apostle  cautions  Timo- 
thy, "  Take  heed  to  thyself,  and  to  thy  doc- 
trine." To  thyself  in  the  first  place,  and 
then  to  thy  doctrine ;  the  latter  w^ithout  the 
former  would  be  impracticable  and  vain. 

You  have  need  to  be  upon  your  guard  in 
whatever  way  your  first  attempts  to  preach 
the  gospel  may  seem  to  operate.  If  you 
should  (as  may  probably  be  the  case  where 
the  truth  has  been  little  known)  meet  with 
much  opposition,  you  will  perhaps  find  it  a 
heavier  trial  than  you  are  aware  of;  but  I 
speak  of  it  only  as  it  might  draw  forth  your 
corruptions,  and  give  Satan  advantage  against 
you,  and  this  may  be  two  ways;  first,  by 
embittering  your  spirit  against  opposers,  so 
as  to  speak  in  anger,  to  set  them  at  defiance, 
or  retaliate  upon  them  in  their  own  way ; 
which,  besides  bringing  guilt  upon  your  con- 
science, would  of  course  increase  your  difR- 
culties,  and  impede  your  usefulness.  A  vio- 
lent opposition  against  ministers  and  profess- 
ors of  the  gospel  is  sometimes  expressed  by 
the  devil's  roaring,  and  some  people  think  no 
good  can  be  done  without  it.  It  is  allowed, 
that  men  who  love  darkness  will  show  their 
Jislike  of  the  light;  but,  I  believe,  if  the  wis- 
dom and  meekness  of  the  friends  of  the  gos- 
pel had  been  always  equal  to  their  good  in- 
tentions and  zeal,  the  devil  would  not  have 
had  opportunity  of  roaring  so  loud  as  he  has 


.«5ometimeH  done.  T\\o  mibjert-rnatter  of  the 
gospel  is  oflenee  enough  to  tin-  cnrrml  heart 
w<»  iiMist  therefore  expect  oppdsilion;  hut  wo 
should  not  provoke  or  des|)rs(?  it,  or  <lo  any 
tiling  to  aifgravate  it.  A  patient  oontimianco 
in  well-doing,  a  consistency  in  rhnnirlrr,  and 
an  att(Mition  to  return  kind  oflices  for  hard 
treatment,  will,  in  course  of  time,  greatly 
soften  the  spirit  of  opi)osition  ;  and  int-tancoH 
are  to  be  found  of  ministers,  who  are  treated 
with  some  resj)ect,  even  by  those  persons  in 
their  parishes  who  arc  most  averse  to  their 
doctrine.  Wiien  the  ajxistle  directs  u.s,  "  If  jt 
he  possible,  and  as  much  as  in  us  lies,  to  live 
peaceably  with  all  men,"  he  seems  to  intimate, 
that  though  it  be  diflicult,  it  is  not  wholly 
impracticable.  We  cannot  change  tlie  root- 
ed prejudices  of  their  hearts  again.st  the  gos- 
pel ;  but  it  is  possible,  by  the  Lord's  blessing, 
to  stop  their  mouths,  and  make  them  ashamed 
of  discovering  it,  when  they  behold  our  good 
conversation  in  Christ.  And  it  is  well  worth 
our  while  to  cultivate  this  outward  peace, 
provided  we  do  not  purchase  it  at  the  ex- 
pense of  truth  and  faithfulness;  for  ordinari- 
ly we  cannot  hope  to  be  useful  to  our  people, 
unless  we  give  them  reason  to  believe  that 
we  love  them,  and  have  their  interest  at 
heart.  Again,  opposition  will  hurt  you,  if  it 
should  give  you  an  idea  of  your  own  import- 
ance, and  lead  you  to  dwell  with  a  secret 
self-approbation  upon  your  own  faithfulness 
and  courage  in  such  circumstances.  If  you 
are  able  to  stand  your  ground  uninfluenced 
either  by  the  favour  or  the  fear  of  men,  you 
have  reason  to  give  glory  to  God ;  but  re- 
member, that  you  cannot  thus  stand  an  hour, 
unless  he  upholds  you.  It  shows  a  strong 
turn  of  mind,  when  we  are  very  ready  to  speak 
of  our  trials  and  difficulties  of  this  kind,  and 
of  our  address  and  resolution  in  encountering 
them.  A  natural  stiffness  of  spirit,  with  a 
desire  to  have  self  taken  notice  of,  may  make 
a  man  willing  to  endure  those  kind  of  hard- 
ships, tliougli  he  has  but  little  grace  in  ex- 
ercise; but  true  christian  fortitude,  from  a 
consciousness  that  we  speak  the  truths  of 
God,  and  are  supported  by  his  power  is  a 
very  diflcrent  thing. 

If  you  should  meet  with  but  little  opposi- 
tion, or  if  the  Lord  should  be  pleased  to  make 
your  enemies  your  friends,  you  will  probably 
be  in  danger  from  the  opposite  quarter.  If 
opposition  has  hurt  many,  popularity  has 
wounded  more.  To  say  the  truth,  I  am  in 
some  pain  for  you.  Your  natural  abilities 
are  considerable;  you  have  been  diligent  in 
your  studies ;  your  zeal  is  warm,  and  your 
spirit  is  lively.  With  these  advantages,  I 
expect  to  see  you  a  popular  preacher.  The 
more  you  are  so,  the  greater  will  your  field  of 
usefulness  be :  but,  alas !  you  cannot  yet  know 
to  what  it  will  expose  you.  It  is  like  walking 
upon  ice.  Wlien  you  shall  see  an  attentive 
congregation    hanging    upon  your    words; 


122 


ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  FAITH. 


[let.  tl 


whnn  you  shall  hear  the  well-meant,  but  often 
injudicious,  commendations  of  those  to  whom 
the  Lord  shall  make  you  useful ;  when  you 
shall  find,  upon  an  intimation  of  your  preach- 
ing in  a  stran<re  place,  people  thronging  from 
all  parts  to  hear  you,  how  will  your  heart  feel  1 
It  is  easy  for  me  to  advise  you  to  be  humble, 
and  for  you  to  acknowledge  the  propriety  of 
the  advice ;  but  while  human  nature  remains 
in  its  present  state,  there  will  be  almost  the 
same  connection  between  popularity  and 
pride,  as  between  fire  and  gunpowder ;  they 
cannot  meet  without  an  explosion,  at  least, 
not  unless  the  gunpowder  is  kept  very  damp. 
So  unless  the  Lord  is  constantly  moistening 
our  hearts  (if  I  may  so  speak)  by  the  influ- 
ences of  his  Spirit,  popularity  will  soon  set 
us  in  a  blaze.  You  vvill  hardly  find  a  person, 
who  has  been  exposed  to  this  fiery  trial,  with- 
out suffering  loss.  Those  whom  the  Lord 
loves,  he  is  able  to  keep,  and  he  will  keep 
them  upon  the  whole ;  yet  by  such  means, 
and  in  a  course  of  such  narrow  escapes, 
that  they  shall  have  reason  to  look  upon 
their  deliverance  as  no  less  than  miraculous. 
Sometimes,  if  his  ministers  are  not  watchful 
against  the  first  impressions  of  pride,  he  per- 
mits it  to  gather  strength ;  and  then  it  is  but 
a  small  thing,  that  a  few  of  their  admirers 
may  think  them  more  than  men  in  the  pulpit, 
if  they  are  left  to  commit  such  mistakes  when 
out  of  it,  as  the  weakest  of  the  flock  can 
discover  and  pity.  And  this  will  certainly 
be  the  case,  while  pride  and  self-sufficiency 
have  the  ascendant.  Beware,  my  friend,^  of 
mistaking  the  ready  exercise  of  gifts  for  the 
exercise  of  grace.  The  minister  may  be 
assisted  in  public  for  the  sake  of  his  hearers ; 
and  there  is  something  in  the  nature  of  our 
public  work,  when  surrounded  by  a  con- 
course of  people,  that  is  suited  to  draw 
forth  the  exertion  of  our  abilities,  and  to  en- 
gage our  attention  in  the  outward  services, 
when  the  frame  of  the  heart  may  be  far  from 
being  right  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord.  When 
Moses  smote  the  rock,  the  water  followed; 
yet  he  spoke  unadvisedly  with  his  lips,  and 
greatly  displeased  the  Lord.  However,  the 
congregation  was  not  disappointed  for  his 
fault,  nor  was  he  put  to  shame  before  them ; 
but  he  was  humbled  for  it  afterwards.  They 
are  happy  whom  the  Lord  preserves  in  some 
degree  humble,  without  leaving  them  to  ex- 
pose themselves  to  the  observation  of  men, 
and  to  receive  such  wounds  as  are  seldom 
healed  without  leaving  a  deep  scar.  But 
even  these  have  mucli  to  suffer.  Many  dis- 
tressing exercises  you  will  probably  meet 
with,  upon  the  best  supposition,  to  preserve 
in  you  a  due  sense  of  your  own  un worthi- 
ness, and  to  convince  you,  that  your  ability, 
your  acceptance,  and  your  usefulness,  de- 
pend upon  a  power  beyond  your  own.  Some- 
times, perhaps,  you  will  feel  such  an  amaz- 
ing difference  between  the  frame  of  your 


spirit  in  public  and  in  private,  when  the  eycs 
of  men  are  not  upon  you,  as  will  make  you, 
almost  ready  to  conclude,  that  you  are  no 
better  than  a  hypocrite,  a  mere  stage-player, 
who  derives  all  his  pathos  and  exertion  from 
the  sight  of  the  audience.  At  other  times, 
you  will  find  such  a  total  emptiness  and  in- 
disposition of  mind,  that  fonner  seasons  of 
liberty  in  preaching  will  appear  to  you  like 
the  remembrance  of  a  dream,  and  you  will 
hardly  be  able  to  persuade  yourself  you  shall 
ever  be  capable  of  preaching  again ;  the 
scriptures  will  appear  to  you  like  a  sealed 
book,  and  no  text  or  subject  afford  any  light 
or  opening  to  determine  your  choice ;  and 
this  perplexity  may  not  only  seize  you  in 
the  study,  but  accompany  you  to  the  pulpit. 
If  you  are  enabled  at  some  times  to  speak  to 
the  people  witli  power,  and  to  resemble  Sam- 
son, when,  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength, 
he  bore  away  the  gates  of  the  city,  you  will, 
perhaps,  at  others,  appear  before  them  like 
Samson  when  his  locks  were  shorn,  and  he 
stood  in  fetters.  So  that  you  need  not  tell 
the  people  you  have  no  sufficiency  in  your- 
self; for  they  will  readily  perceive  it  without 
your  information.  These  things  are  hard  to 
bear ;  yet  successful  popularity  is  not  to  be 
preserved  upon  easier  terms;  and  if  they  are 
but  sanctified  to  hide  pride  from  you,  you 
will  have  reason  to  number  them  amongst 
your  choicest  mercies. 

I  have  but  just  made  an  entrance  upon 
the  subject  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
attending  the  ministry.  But  my  paper  is  full. 
If  you  are  willing  I  should  proceed,  let  me 
know,  and  I  believe  I  can  easily  find  enough 
to  fill  another  sheet.  May  the  Lord  make 
you  wise  and  watchful !  That  he  may  be 
the  light  of  your  eye,  the  strength  of  your 
arm,  and  the  joy  of  your  heart,  is  the  sincere 
prayer  of,  &c. 


LETTER  VI. 

On  the  Practical  Influence  of  Faith. 

SIR, — The  use  and  importance  of  faith, 
it  respects  a  sinner's  justification  before  God, 
has  been  largely  insisted  on ;  but  it  is  likewig 
of  great  use   and    importance  in  the   dail] 
concerns  of  life.     It  gives  evidence  and  sul 
sistence  to  things  not  seen,  and  realizes  the 
great  truths  of  the   gospel,  so  as  that  thej 
become,  abiding  and  living  principles  of  suj 
port  and   direction,  while   we  are  passing 
through  this  wilderness.     Thus,  it  is  as  the 
eye  and  the  hand,  without  which  we  cannt 
take  one  step  with  certainty,  or  attempt  an] 
service  with  success.     It  is  to  be  wished,  ths 
this  practical   exercise  of  faith   were   duly 
attended  to  by  all   professors.     We  should 
not  then  meet  with  so  many  cases  that  put 


IJIT.  VI.  J 


ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  FAITH. 


123 


lis*  to  a  stand,  and  leave  us  at  a  jjrcat  ditFjciilty 
U)  roctmcilo,  what  we  see  in  Kuine,  of  whom 
we  would  willin<,My  hope  well,  with  what  we 
read  in  scripture,  of  the  inseparable  con- 
C  uiitanLs  of  a  true  and  livily  faith.  For  how 
can  we  but  be  titai,'<^'iTed,  when  we  h«'ar  per- 
sons speaKMiL^  the  Ian;,'uaife  of  assurance, 
that  tiiey  know  their  acerplanco  with  (lod 
throujjh  Christ,  and  have  not  the  least  doubt 
of  their  interest  in  all  the  promises  ;  while,  at 
tlie  same  time,  we  see  them  under  the  mtlu- 
euce  of  unsanctified  tempers,  of  a  proud, 
passionate,  positive,  worldly,  sclrtsli,  or  churl- 
isli  carria<je  J 

It  is  not  only  plain  from  the  general  tenure 
of  scripture,  that  a  covetous,  a  proud,  or  a 
censorious  spirit,  are  no  more  con>istent  with 
the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  than  drunkenness  or 
whoredom  ;  but  there  are  many  express  texts 
directly  pointed  against  tiie  evils  which  too 
often  are  found  amongst  professors.  Thus 
the  apostle  James  assures  us,  "  That  if  any 
man  sccmeth  to  be  religious,  and  bridletli 
not  his  tongue,  his  religion  is  vain ;"  and  the 
apostle  John,  "  That  if  any  man  love  the  world, 
tlie  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him ;"  and 
he  seems  to  apply  this  character  to  any  man, 
whatever  his  profession  or  pretences  may  be, 
*'  who  having  this  world's  goods,  and  seeing 
his  brother  have  need,  shutteth  up  his  bowels 
of  compassion  from  him.'"  Surely  these  texts 
more  than  intimate,  that  the  faith  which  jus- 
tifies the  soul,  does  likewise  receive  from 
Jesus  grace  for  grace,  whereby  the  heart  is 
puriried,  and  the  conversation  regulated  as 
becomes  the  gospel  of  Christ. 

There  are  too  many  wlio  would  have  the 
ministry  of  the  gospel  restrained  to  the  pri- 
vileges of  believers;  and  when  the  fruits 
of  faith,  and  the  tempers  of  the  mind,  which 
should  be  manifest  in  those  who  have  "tasted 
that  the  Lord  is  gracious,"  are  inculcated, 
think  they  sufBciently  evade  all  that  is  said, 
by  calling  it  legal  preaching.  I  would  be 
no  advocate  for  legal  preaching;  but  we 
must  not  be  deterred  by  the  fear  of  a  hard 
word,  from  declaring  the  whole  counsel  of 
God ;  and  we  have  tlie  authority  and  example 
of  St.  Paul,  who  was  a  champion  of  the  doc- 
trines of  free  grace,  to  animate  us  in  exhort- 
ing professors  to  "  walk  worthy  of  God,  who 
has  called  them  to  his  kingdom  and  glory." 
And  indeed  the  expression  of  a  believer's 
privilege  is  often  misunderstood.  It  is  a 
believer's  privilege  to  walk  with  God  in  the 
exercise  of  faith,  and,  by  the  power  of  his 
Spirit,  to  mortify  the  whole  body  of  sin ;  to 
gain  a  growing  victory  over  the  world  and 
self,  and  to  make  daily  advances  in  conformity 
to  the  mind  that  was  in  Christ.  And  noth- 
ing that  we  profess  to  know,  believe,  or  hope 
for,  deserves  the  name  of  a  privilege,  farther 
than  we  are  influenced  by  it  to  die  unto  sin, 
and  to  live  unto  righteousness.  Whosoever 
IS  possessed  of  true  faith,  will  not  confine 


his  impiiriefl  to  the  sinpflo  point  of  his  arccpt^ 

aneo  with  Gcxl,  or  Ix;  MUti.shiMJ  with  tin;  <liMliinl 
iiop«'  ofhravcn  hcrj'aftnr.  Il(.' will  Iik«.'wiMO 
b«'  .solicitous  liow  he  may  glorify  (iod  in  the 
world,  and  enjoy  huch  lijn.'tahtj's  of  heaven 
as  ar«;  atUiinabh*  while  In;  is  yr;t  u[)on  eurtli. 
Faith,  thi'ii,  in  its  practical  e.vcrciM.',  haa 
for  its  object  the  whoh.'  word  of  (lod,  and 
forms  itit  estimate  of  all  things  with  which 
the  soul  is  at  present  conct'rned,  according 
to  the  standard  of  scripture.  Like  Moses,  it 
"  endures,  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible.'* 
When  our  Lord  was  ujxm  earth,  and  con- 
versed with  his  disciples,  their  eyes  and 
hearts  were  fixed  upon  him.  In  danger  he 
was  their  defender;  their  guide  wiien"in  per- 
plexity; andtohimthey  lo(jkedfor  the  solution 
of  all  tlieir  doubt.s,  and  the  supply  of  all  their 
wants.  He  is  now  withdrawn  from  our  eyes ; 
but  faith  sets  lihn  still  before  us  for  the  same 
purposes,  and,  according  to  its  degree,  with 
the  same  eflects,  as  if  we  actually  saw  him. 
His  spiritual  presence,  appreliended  by  faith, 
is  a  restraint  from  evil,  an  encouragement  to 
every  service,  and  allbrds  a  present  refuge 
and  help  in  every  time  of  trouble.  To  this 
is  owing  the  delight  a  believer  takes  in  ordi- 
nances, because  there  he  meets  his  Lord ; 
and  to  this  likewise  it  is  owing,  that  his  re- 
ligion is  not  confined  to  public  occasions; 
but  he  is  the  same  person  in  secret  as  he 
appears  to  be  in  the  public  assembly  ;  for  he 
worships  him  who  sees  in  secret,  and  dares 
appeal  to  his  all-seeing  eye  for  the  sincerity 
of  his  desires  and  intentions.  By  faith  he  is 
enabled  to  use  prosperity  witli  moderation ; 
and  knows  and  feels,  that  what  the  world 
calls  good  is  of  small  value,  unless  it  is  ac- 
companied with  the  presence  and  blessing  of 
Ilim  whom  his  soul  loveth.  And  his  faith 
upholds  him  under  all  trials,  by  assuring 
him  that  every  dispensation  is  under  the  di- 
rection of  his  Lord ;  that  chastisements  are 
a  token  of  his  love ;  that  the  season,  measure, 
and  continuance  of  his  sufl^erings,  are  appoint- 
ed by  infinite  wisdom,  and  designed  to  work 
for  his  everlasting  good ;  and  that  grace  and 
strength  shall  be  afforded  him,  according  to 
his  day.  Thus,  his  heart  being  fixed,  trust- 
ing in  the  Lord,  to  whom  he  has  committed 
all  his  concerns,  and  knowing  that  his  best 
interests  are  safe,  he  is  not  greatly  afraid  of 
evil  tidings,  but  enjoys  a  stable  peace  in  the 
midst  of  a  changing  world.  For  though  he 
cannot  tell  what  a  day  may  bring  fortli,  he 
believes  that  He,  who  has  invited  and  enabled 
him  to  cast  all  his  cares  upon  him,  will  suffer 
nothing  to  befall  him  but  what  shall  be  made 
subservient  to  his  chief  desires,  t!ie  glory  of 
God  in  the  sanctification  and  final  salvation 
of  his  soul.  And  if,  through  the  weakness 
of  his  flesh,  he  is  liable  to  be  startled  by  the 
first  impression  of  a  sharp  and  sudden  trial, 
he  quickly  flees  to  his  strong  refuge,  remem- 
bers it  is  the  Lord's  doing,  resigns  himself 


124 


ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  FAITH. 


[let.  vil 


to  his  will,  and  patiently  expects  a  happy  is- 
sue. 

By  the  same  principle  of  faith,  a  believer's 
conduct  is  rejrulatcd  towards  his  fellow-crca- 
turos ;  and  in  the  discharge  of  the  several 
duties  and  rehitionsof  life,  his  f^rcataim  is  to 
please  Goi,  and  to  let  his  lif^ht  shine  in  the 
world.  He  believes  and  feels  his  own  weak- 
ness and  unworthiness,  and  lives  upon  the 
grace  and  pardoninf^  love  of  his  Ix)rd.  This 
gives  him  an  habitual  tenderness  and  n-entle- 
ness  of  spirit.  Ilumhlcd  under  the  sense  of 
mudi  for<,nveness  to  himself,  he  finds  it  easy 
to  for^rive  others,  if  he  has  auirht  ao-ainst  any. 
A  due  sense  of  what  he  is  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  preserves  him  from  j^iving-  way  to  an- 
ger, positiveness,  and  resentment.  lie  is  not 
easily  provoked,  but  is  "  swift  to  hear,  slow 
to  speak,  slow  to  wrath ;"  and  if  offended, 
easy  to  be  entreated,  and  disposed,  not  only 
to  yield  to  a  reconciliation,  but  to  seek  it. 
As  Jesus  is  his  life,  and  righteousness,  and 
strength,  so  he  is  his  pattern.  By  faith  he 
contemplates  and  studies  this  great  exemplar 
of  philanthropy.  With  a  holy  ambition,  he 
treads  in  the  footsteps  of  his  Lord  and  Mas- 
ter, and  learns  of  him  to  be  meek  and  lowly, 
to  requite  injuries  with  kindness,  and  to  over- 
come evil  with  good.  From  the  same  views, 
by  faith  he  derives  a  benevolent  spirit,  and, 
according  to  his  sphere  and  ability,  he  endea- 
vours to  promote  the  welfare  of  all  around 
him.  The  law  of  love  being  thus  written  in 
his  heart,  and  his  soul  set  at  liberty  from  the 
low  and  narrow  dictates  of  a  selfish  spirit, 
his  language  will  be  truth,  and  his  dealings 
equity.  His  promise  may  be  depended  on, 
without  the  interposition  of  an  oatli,  bond,  or 
witness ;  and  the  feelings  of  his  own  heart, 
under  the  directions  of  an  enlightened  con- 
science, and  the  precepts  of  scripture,  prompt 
him  to  do  unto  others  as  he  would  desire  they, 
in  the  like  circumstances,  should  do  unto  him. 
If  he  is  a  master,  he  is  gentle  and  compas- 
sionate ;  if  a  servant,  he  is  faithful  and  obedi- 
ent ;  for  in  either  relation  he  acts  by  faith, 
under  the  eye  of  his  Master  in  heaven.  If 
he  is  a  trader,  he  neither  dares  nor  wishes  to 
take  advantage,  either  of  the  ignorance  or 
the  necessities  of  those  with  whom  he  deals. 
And  the  same  principle  of  love  influences  his 
whole  conversation.  A  sense  of  his  own  m- 
firmities  makes  him  candid  to  those  of  others. 
He  will  not  readily  believe  reports  to  their 
prejudice,  without  sufficient  proof;  and  even 
then,  he  will  not  repeat  them,  unless  he  is 
lawfully  called  to  it.  He  believes  that  the 
precept,  "  Speak  evil  of  no  man,"  is  founded 
upon  the  same  authority  with  tliose  which  for- 
bid committing  adultery  or  murder,  and  there- 
fore he  "  keeps  his  tongue  as  with  a  bridle.  " 

Lastly,  faith  is  of  daily  use  as  a  preserva- 
tive from  a  compliance  with  the  corrupt  cus- 
toms and  maxims  of  thn  world.  The  be- 
liever though  iji  the  world,  is  not  of  it.     By 


faith  he  triumphs  over  its  smiles  and  entice- 
ments; he  sees  that  all  that  is  in  the  world, 
suited  to  gratify  the  desires  of  the  flesh  or 
the  eye,  is  not  only  to  be  avoided  as  sinful, 
but  as  incompatible  with  his  best  pleasures. 
He  will  mix  with  the  world  so  far  as  is  ne- 
cessary, in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  that 
station  of  life  in  which  the  providence  of  God 
has  placed  him,  but  no  farther.  His  leisure 
and  inclinations  are  engaged  in  a  different 
pursuit.  They  who  fear  the  Lord  are  hia 
chosen  companions;  and  the  blessings  he 
derives  from  the  word,  and  throne,  and  ordi- 
nances of  grace,  make  him  look  upon  the 
poor  pleasures  and  amusements  of  those  who 
live  without  God  in  the  world  with  a  mi.x- 
ture  of  disdain  and  pity;  and  by  faith  he  is 
proof  against  its  frowns.  He  will  obey  God 
rather  than  man.  He  will  "  have  no  fellow- 
ship with  the  unfruitful  works  of  darkness, 
but  will  rather  reprove  them."  And  if,  upon 
this  account,  he  should  be  despised  and  in- 
juriously treated,  whatever  loss  he  suflfers  in 
such  a  cause,  he  accounts  his  gain,  and  es- 
teems such  disgrace  his  glory. 

I  am  not  aiming  to  draw  a  perfect  charac- 
ter, but  to  show  the  proper  effects  of  that 
faith  which  justifies,  which  purifies  the 
heart,  which  worketh  by  love,  and  overcomes 
the  world.  An  habitual  endeavour  to  possess 
such  a  frame  of  spirit,  and  thus  to  adorn  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  and  that  with  growing  suc- 
cess, is  what  I  am  persuaded  you  are  not  a 
stranger  to ;  and  I  am  afraid  that  they  who 
can  content  themselves  with  aiming  at  any 
thing  short  of  this  in  their  profession,  are  too 
much  strangers  to  themselves,  and  to  the 
nature  of  that  liberty  wherewith  Jesus  has 
promised  to  make  his  people  free.  That  you 
may  go  on  from  strength  to  strength,  increas- 
ing in  the  light  and  image  of  our  Lord  and  Sa- 
viour, is  the  sincere  prayer  of,  &c. 


LETTER  VIL 

On  the  Propriety  of  a  Ministerial  Address 
to  the  Unconverted. 

SIR, — In  a  late  conversation,  you  desired  my 
thoughts  concerning  a  scriptural  and  consis- 
tent manner  of  addressing  the  consciences 
of  unawakened  sinners  m  the  course  of  your 
ministry.  It  is  a  point  on  which  many  emi- 
nent ministers  have  been,  and  are  not  a  little 
divided ;  and  it  therefore  becomes  me  to  pro- 
pose my  sentiments  with  modesty  and  cau- 
tion, so  far  as  I  am  constrained  to  differ  from 
any,  from  whom,  in  general,  I  would  be  glad 
to  learn. 

Some  think  that  it  is  sufficient  to  preach 
the  great  truths  of  the  word  of  God  in  their 
hearing ;  to  set  fortli  the  utterly  ruined  and 
helpless  state  of  fallen  man  by  nature,  and 


LET.  vn.] 


ON  MINISTERIAL  ADDRKSS. 


125 


tho  npiwiiittnl  motluxl  of  snlvntion  l)V  p^mco, 
through  fiiitli  in  tin*  l/onl  Ji>sus  Christ;  and 
tlw'ii  to  lonvo  tin*  application  iMifircly  to  tho 
agency  of  tho  Holy  Sjjirit,  who  alono  can 
enlit^hton  thtulark  midrrstandinLjs  of  winners, 
and  onablc  thonj  to  receive,  in  a  dne  maimer, 
tlie  doctrines  of  either  the  hiw  or  the  gospel. 
And  they  appreh(Mui,  that  all  (whorUitions, 
ar'T^iinents,  and  moti\'es,  addressed  to  those 
who  are  snp}K)sod  to  be  still  under  the  inlhi- 
ence  of  a  carnal  mind,  are  inconsistent  with 
the  i)rinciples  of  fr(H^  j^nice,  and  the  ac^know- 
ledged  inability  of  such  })ersons  to  j)erforni 
any  spiritual  acts;  ami  that,  thereibre,  the 
preachers  who,  avowiu!]^  the  doctrines  of  free 
prace,  do,  notwithstandiniif,  pU^ad  and  expos- 
tulate with  sinners,  usually  contradict  them- 
selves, and  retract  in  their  application  what 
they  iiad  laboured  to  establish  in  the  course 
of  their  sermons. 

There  are  others,  who,  thoug-h  they  would 
be  extremely  unwillinn^  to  derogate  from  the 
free  grace  and  sovereig-n  power  of  God  in 
the  great  work  of  conversion,  or  in  the  least 
degree  to  encourage  the  mistaken  notion 
which  every  unconverted  person  has  of  his 
own  power ;  yet  think  it  tiieir  duty  to  deal 
with  sinners  as  rational  and  moral  agents ; 
and  as  such,  besides  declaring  ine  counsel 
of  God  in  a  doctrinal  w^ay,  to  warn  them 
by  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  and  to  beseech 
them,  by  his  tender  mercies,  that  they  re- 
ceive not  the  grace  of  God  in  a  preached 
gospel  in  vain.  Nor  can  it  be  denied,  but 
that  some  of  them,  when  deeply  affected  with 
the  worth  of  souls,  and  the  awful  importance 
of  eternal  things,  have  sometimes,  in  the 
warmth  of  their  hearts,  dropped  unguarded 
expressions,  and  such  as  have  been  justly 
liable  to  exception. 

If  we  were  to  decide  to  which  of  these 
different  methods  of  preaching  the  prefer- 
ence is  due,  by  the  discernible  effects  of 
each,  it  will,  perhaps,  appear  in  fact,  with- 
out making  any  invidious  comparisons,  that 
those  ministers  whom  the  Lord  has  honoured 
with  the  greatest  success  in  awakening  and 
converting  sinners,  have  generally  been  led 
to  adopt  the  more  popular  way  of  exhortation 
or  address ;  while  they  who  have  been  stu- 
diously careful  to  avoid  any  direct  applica- 
tion to  sinners,  as  unnecessary  and  improper, 
if  they  have  not  been  altogether  without 
seals  to  their  ministry,  yet  their  labours  have 
been  more  owned  in  building  up  those  who 
have  already  received  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  than  in  adding  to  their  number.  Now, 
as  "  he  that  winneth  souls  is  wise,"  and  as 
every  faithful  labourer  has  a  warm  desire  of 
being  instrumental  in  raising  the  dead  in  sin 
to  a  life  of  righteousness,  this  seems  at  least 
a  presumptive  argument  in  favour  of  those 
who,  besides  stating  the  doctrines  of  the  gos- 
pel, endeavour,  by  earnest  persuasions  and 
expostulations,  to  impress  them  upon  the 


henrtM  of  their  hearers,  and  intreat  ami  warn 
them  to  consi(l(*r  "how  they  hIuiII  r-scap*',  if 
they  negh'ct  so  grruit  wilvution."  Kor  it  in 
not  easy  to  conceive,  that  the  Ix)rd  should 
most  signally  bear  testimony  in  (iivoiir  of 
that  niodf?  of  preaching  which  is  least  con- 
sistent with  tin*  truth,  and  with  itself 

Ihit  not  to  insist  on  this,  nor  to  rest  tho 
cause  on  the  authority  or  examples  of  men, 
the  best  of  whom  are  imperfect  and  fallible, 
let  us  consult  the  scriptures,  which,  as  they 
furnish  us  with  th(!  whole  subject-matter  of 
our  ministry,  so  they  afford  us  perfi.'ct  pre- 
cepts and  patterns  lor  its  due  and  orderly 
disj)ensation.  With  respect  to  the  subject 
of  our  in([uiry,  the  examples  of  our  lx)rd 
Christ,  and  of  his  authorised  ministers,  tho 
apostles,  are  both  our  rule  and  our  warrant. 
The  Lord  Jesus  was  the  great  preacher  of 
free  grace,  "  who  spake  as  never  man  spake  ;'* 
and  liis  ministry,  while  it  provided  relief  for 
the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  was  eminently 
designed  to  stain  the  pride  of  all  human  glory. 
He  knew  what  was  in  man,  and  declared, 
that  none  could  come  unto  him,  unless  drawn 
and  taught  of  God  ;  John  vi.  44 — 46.  And 
yet  he  often  speaks  to  sinners  in  terms, 
which,  if  they  were  not  known  to  be  his, 
might  perhaps,  be  censured  as  inconsistent 
and  legal ;  John  vi.  27 ;  Luke  xiii.  24 — 27  ; 
John  xii.  35. — It  appears,  both  from  the  con- 
text and  the  tenor  of  these  passages,  that 
they  were  immediately  spoken  not  to  his 
disciples,  but  to  the  multitude.  The  apostles 
copied  from  their  Lord  :  they  taught,  that  we 
have  no  sufficiency  of  ourselves,  even  to  think 
a  good  thought,  and  that  "  it  is  not  of  him 
that  willeth,  or  of  him  that  runneth,  but  of 
God  who  showeth  mercy ;"  yet  they  plainly 
call  upon  sinners  (and  that  before  they  had 
given  evident  signs  that  they  were  pricked 
to  the  heart,  as  Acts  iii,  31.)  "  to  repent,  and 
to  turn  from  their  vanities  to  the  living  God ;" 
Acts  iii.  19,  and  xiv.  15,  and  xvii.  30. — Peter's 
advice  to  Simon  Magus  is  very  full  and  ex- 
press to  this  point :  for  though  he  perceived 
him  to  be  "  in  the  very  gall  of  bitterness,  and 
in  the  bond  of  iniquity,"  he  exhorted  him  "  to 
repent,  and  to  pray,  if  perhaps  the  tiiought 
of  his  heart  might  be  forgiven."  It  may  be 
presumed,  that  w^e  cannot  have  stronger  evi- 
dence, that  any  of  our  hearers  are  in  a  carnal 
and  unconverted  state,  than  Peter  had  in  the 
case  of  Simon  Magus;  and  tli  ere  fore  there 
seems  no  sufficient  reason  why  we  should 
hesitate  to  follow  the  apostle's  example. 

You  have  been  told,  that  repentance  and 
faith  are  spiritual  acts,  for  the  performance 
of  which,  a  principle  of  spiritual  life  is  abso- 
lutely necessary:  and  that  therefore,  to  exhort 
an  unregenerate  sinner  to  repent  or  believe, 
must  be  as  vain  and  fruitless  as  to  call  a  dead 
person  out  of  his  grave.  To  this  it  may  be 
answered,  that  we  might  cheerfully  and  con- 
fidently undertake  even  to  call  the  dead  out 


126 


ON  MINISTERIAL  ADDRESS. 


[let.  vn. 


of  their  graves,  if  we  had  the  command  and 
promise  of  (Jod  to  warrant  the  attempt;  for 
then  we  mij^ht  expect  his  jx)wer  would  ac- 
company our  wonl.  Tfie  vision  of  Ezekiel, 
chap,  xxxvii.  may  be  fitly  accommodated  to 
illustrate  both  the  difficulties  and  the  encour- 
ajTomentof  a  gospel  minister.  The  deplora- 
ble state  of  many  of  our  hearers  may  often 
remind  us  of  the  I/ord's  question  to  the  pro- 
phet, "Can  these  dry  bones  live  !"  Our  re- 
source, like  that  of  the  prophet,  is  entirely 
in  the  sovereignty,  grace,  and  power  of  the 
Lord  :  "  O  Lord,  thou  knowest,  impossible  as 
it  is  to  us,  it  is  easy  for  thee  to  raise  them  unto 
life;  therefore  we  renounce  our  own  reason- 
ings; and  though  we  see  that  they  are  dead, 
we  call  upon  them  at  thy  bidding,  as  if  they 
were  alive,  and  say,  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear 
the  word  of  the  Lord  !  The  means  is  our 
part,  the  work  is  thine,  and  to  thee  be  all  the 
praise."  The  dry  bones  could  not  hear  the 
prophet ;  but  while  he  spoke,  the  Lord  caused 
breath  to  enter  into  them,  and  they  lived, 
but  the  word  was  spoken  to  them  considered 
as  dry  and  dead. 

It  is  true  the  Lord  can,  and  I  hope  he  often 
does  make  that  preaching  effectual  to  the 
conversion  of  sinners,  wherein  little  is  said 
expressly  to  them,  only  the  truths  of  the 
gospel  are  declared  in  their  hearing  ;  but  he 
who  knows  the  frame  of  the  human  heart, 
has  provided  us  with  a  variety  of  the  topics 
which  have  a  moral  suitableness  to  engage 
the  faculties,  affections,  and  consciences  of 
sinners,  so  far  at  least  as  to  leave  themselves 
condemned  if  they  persist  in  their  sins,  and  by 
which  he  often  effects  the  purposes  of  his 
grace ;  though  none  of  the  means  of  grace 
by  which  he  ordinarily  works,  can  produce 
a  real  change  in  the  heart,  unless  they  are 
accompanied  with  the  efficacious  power  of 
his  Spirit.  Should  we  admit,  that  an  uncon- 
verted person  is  not  a  proper  subject  of  minis- 
terial exhortation,  because  he  has  no  power 
in  himself  to  comply,  the  just  consequence 
of  this  position  would,  perhaps,  extend  too 
far,  even  to  prove  the  impropriety  of  all  ex- 
hortation universally  :  for  when  we  invite 
the  weary  and  heavy  laden  to  come  to  Jesus, 
that  they  may  find  rest ;  when  v/e  call  upon 
backsliders  to  remember  from  whence  they 
are  fallen,  "  to  repent  and  to  do  their  first 
works;"  yea,  when  we  exhort  believers  "to 
walk  worthy  of  God,  who  has  called  them 
to  his  kingdom  and  glory;"  in  each  of  these 
cases  we  press  them  to  acts  for  wiiich  they 
have  no  inherent  power  of  their  own ;  and 
unless  the  Ix)rd  the  Spirit  is  pleased  to  apply 
the  words  to  their  hearts,  we  do  but  speak 
to  the  air ;  and  our  endeavours  can  have  no 
more  effect  in  these  instances,  than  if  we 
were  to  say  to  a  dead  body,  "  Arise,  and  walk." 
For  an  exertion  of  divine  power  is  no  less 
necessary  to  the  healing  of  a  wounded  con- 
ecience,  than  the  breaking  of  a  hard  heart ; 


and  only  he  who  has  begun  the  good  work 
of  grace,  is  able  either  to  revive  or  to  main- 
tain it. 

Though  sinners  are  destitute  of  spiritual 
life,  they  are  not  therefore  mere  machines. 
They  have  a  power  to  do  many  things,  which 
they  may  be  called  upon  to  exert.  They  are 
capable  of  considering  their  ways :  they  know 
they  are  mortal ;  and  the  bulk  of  them  are 
persuaded  in  their  consciences,  that  afler 
death  there  is  an  appointed  judgment.  They 
are  not  under  an  inevitable  necessity  of  liv- 
ing in  known  and  gross  sins ;  that  they  do 
so,  is  not  for  want  of  power,  but  for  want  of 
will.  The  most  profane  swearer  can  refrain 
from  his  oaths,  while  in  the  presence  of  a 
person  whom  he  fears,  and  to  whom  he  knows 
it  would  be  displeasing.  Let  a  drunkard  see 
poison  put  into  his  liquor,  and  it  may  stand 
by  him  untasted  from  morning  till  night.  And 
many  would  be  deterred  from  sins  to  which 
they  are  greatly  addicted,  by  the  presence- 
of  a  child,  though  they  have  no  fear  of  Grod 
before  their  eyes.  They  have  a  power  like- 
wise of  attending  upon  the  means  of  grace  ; 
and  though  the  Lord  only  can  give  them  true 
faith  and  evangelical  repentance,  there  seems 
no  impropriety  to  invite  them,  upon  the 
ground  of  the  gospel-promises,  to  seek  to  him 
who  is  exalted  to  bestow  these  blessings,  and 
who  is  able  to  do  that  for  them,  which  they 
cannot  do  for  themselves,  and  who  has  said, 
"  Him,  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out."  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  easily  prov- 
ed, that  intreaties,  arguments,  warnings, 
formed  upon  these  general  principles,  which 
are  in  the  main  agreeable  and  adequate  to 
the  remaining  light  of  natural  conscience, 
are  at  all  inconsistent  with  those  doctrines 
which  ascribe  the  whole  of  a  sinner's  salva- 
tion, from  first  to  last,  to  the  free  sovereign 
grace  of  God. 

We  should,  undoubtedly,  endeavour  ta 
maintain  a  consistency  in  our  preaching; 
but  unless  we  keep  the  plan  and  manner  of 
the  scripture  constantly  in  view,  and  attend 
to  every  part  of  it,  a  design  of  consistency 
may  fetter  our  sentiments,  and  greatly  pre- 
clude our  usefulness.  We  need  not  wish  to 
be  more  consistent  than  the  inspired  writers, 
nor  be  afraid  of  speaking,  as  they  have  spo- 
ken before  us.  We  may  easily  perplex  our- 
selves, and  our  hearers  by  nice  reasonings 
on  the  nature  of  human  liberty,  and  the  divine 
agency  on  the  hearts  of  men ;  but  such  dis- 
quisitions are  better  avoided.  We  shall,  per- 
haps, never  have  full  satisfaction  on  these 
subjects,  till  we  arrive  in  the  world  of  light. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  path  of  duty,  the  good 
old  way,  lies  plain  before  us.  If  when  you 
are  in  the  pulpit,  the  Lord  favours  you  with 
a  lively  sense  of  the  greatness  of  the  trust, 
and  the  worth  of  the  s6uls  committed  to  your 
charge,  and  fills  your  heart  with  his  con- 
straining love,  many  little  curious  distinctions^ 


ON  THE  INWARD  WITNESS  OF  FAITH. 


197 


which  amused  you  at  othrr  timrs,  will  bo 
forjjotton.  Your  soul  will  ^'o  forth  with 
your  wortls;  ami  whil»»  your  Ih)w«*Is  y»^iirn 
over  |xx)r  siunrrn,  you  will  not  h<'sitat«'  a 
moment,  whetlirr  you  ouLrht  to  wiirn  tliotn 
of  tlioir  (hin;;iT  or  not.  That  ^^rcat  champion 
of  froc  f^ract',  Dr.  Owen,  ha.s  a  vory  soKmuii 
address  to  siiujors,  tho  ruiniin<rtitl(?  to  which 
is,  "  Exhortations  unto  helimiu'''."  It  is  in  his 
E.X[)osition  of  the  IMOlh  I'sahn,  from  p.  24'J, 
to  217,  I/Mulon  edition,  KHIi),  which  I  re- 
commend to  your  attentive  consideration.  1 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

On  the  Imoard  Witness  to  the  Ground  and 
Reality  of  Faith. 

SIR, — I  readily  offer  you  my  thoufjhts  on 
1  John  V.  10,  "He  that  bcliovcth  on  the  Son 
of  God,  hath  the  witness  in  himself;"  thouo^h, 
perhaps,  you  will  think  I  am  writin«T  a  ser- 
mon rather  than  a  letter.  If  we  believe  in 
the  Son  of  God,  whatever  trials  we  may  meet 
with  in  the  present  life,  our  best  concerns 
are  safe,  and  our  happiness  is  sure.  If  we  do 
not,  whatever  else  we  have,  or  seem  to  have, 
we  are  in  a  state  of  condemnation ;  and  liv- 
ing and  dyinf^  so,  must  perish.  Thousands, 
it  is  to  be  feared,  persuade  themselves  that 
they  are  believers,  thou<jh  they  cannot  stand 
the  test  of  scripture.  And  there  are  many 
real  believers,  who,  through  the  prevalence 
of  remaininor  unbelief  and  the  temptations 
of  Satan,  form  hard  conclusions  against 
themselves  though  the  scripture  speaks  peace 
to  them.  But  how  does  this  correspond  with 
the  passage  before  us  which  asserts  univer- 
sally, "He  that  belicveth,  hath  the  witness  in 
liimself  ?"  for  can  a  man  have  a  witness  in 
himself  and  yet  not  know  it  1  It  may  be  an- 
swered, Tiie  evidence,  in  its  own  nature,  is 
sufficient  and  infallible ;  but  w^e  are  very  apt, 
when  we  would  form  a  judgment  of  our- 
selves, to  superadd  rules  and  marks  of  trial 
which  are  not  given  us,  for  that  purpose,  in 
the  Bible.  That  the  word  and  Spirit  of  God 
do  witness  for  his  children,  is  a  point  in  w'hich 
many  are  agreed,  who  are  far  from  being 
a^eed  as  to  the  nature  and  manner  of  that 
witness.  It  is,  therefore,  very  desirable 
rightly  to  undesstand  the  evidence  by  which 
we  are  to  judge  whether  we  are  believers 
or  not. 

The  importance  and  truth  of  the  gospel- 
salvation  is  witnessed  to  in  heaven,  by  *'  the 
Father,  the  Word,  and  the  Spirit."  It  is 
witnessed  to  on  earth,  by  "  the  Spirit,  the 
water,  and  the  blood,"  verses  7  and  8.  The 
Spirit,  in  verse  8, 1  apprehend,  denotes  a  di- 
vine light  in  the  understanding,  communi- 
cated by  the  Spirit  of  God,  enabling  the  soul ) 


to  perceive  and  approve  tlie  t  rul  h.  The  water 
seems  to  intend  tin;  i>owerful  infhwnrr?  of 
this  knowledge  and  li^,'ht,  in  the  work  of 
sanctilicatiou.  And  the  I)1<k»<I,  the  iipplicti- 
tion  of  th»'  I)1(hk1  of  Jesus  to  the  coiiKience, 
relieving  it  from  guilt  and  fe.'ir,  and  impart- 
ing a  "  p<'ace  which  jku^sck  all  under.>-tarMl- 
ing."  And  he  that  Ixdieveth  hath  this  united 
testimony  of  the  Sjiirit,  th(;  water,  and  the 
hlcHHl,  not  by  hearsay  only,  but  in  himnrdf. 
.According  to  the  measure  of  his  faith  (for 
faith  has  various  degrees)  he  lias  a  living 
proof  that  the  witness  is  true,  by  the  efiecta 
wrought  in  his  own  lieart. 

These  things,  which  Ci(xl  has  joined  toge- 
ther are  too  often  attemj)ted  to  be  separated. 
Attempts  of  this  kind  have  beim  a  principal 
source  and  cause  of  most  of  the  dangerous 
errors  and  mi.stakcs  which  are  to  be  found 
among    professors  of  religion.       Some   say 
mucii  concerning  the  Spirit,  and  lay  claim 
to  an  inward  light,  whereby  they  think  they 
know  the  tilings  of  God.     Others  lay  great 
stress  upon  the  water ;  maintaining  a  regular 
conversation,  abstaining  from  the  defilements 
of  the  world,  and  aiming  at  a  mastery  over 
their  natural  desires  and  tempers ;  but  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  appear  to  be  duly  sen- 
sible of  the  value  of  the  blood  of  atonement, 
as  the  sole  ground  of  their  acceptance,  and 
the  spring  of  their  life  and  strength.    Others, 
again,  arc  all  for  the  blood ;  can  speak  much 
of  Jesus,  and  his  blood  and  righteousness; 
though  it  does  not  appear  that  they  are  truly 
spiritually  enlightened  to  perceive  the  beauty 
and  harmony  of  gospel-truths,  or  that  they 
pay  a  due  regard  to  that  holiness  without 
which  no  man  can  see  the  Lord.     But  Jesus 
came,  not  by  water  only,  or  by  blood  only, 
but  by  water  and  blood ;  and  the  Spirit  bears 
witness  to  both,  because  the  Spirit  is  truth. 
The  water  alone  affords  but  a  cold  starched 
form  of  godliness,  destitute  of  that  enliven- 
ing power  which  is  derived  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  preciousness  of  Jesus,  as  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain.     And  if  any  talk  of  the  blood 
without  the  water,  they  do  but  turn  the  grace 
of  God  into  licentiousness ;  so,  likewise,  to 
pretend  to  the  Spirit,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  have  low  thoughts  of  Jesus,  is  a  delusion 
and  vanity ;  for  the  true  Spirit  testifies  and 
takes  of  his  glory,  and  presents  it  to  the  soul. 
But  the  real  believer  receives  the   united 
testimony,  and  has  the  witness  in  himself 
that  he  does  so. 

To  have  the  witness  in  ourselves,  is  to 
have  the  truths  that  are  declared  in  the 
scripture  revealed  in  our  hearts.  This  brings 
an  experimental  conviction,  which  may  be 
safely  depended  on,  that  "  we  have  received 
the  grace  of  God  in  truth."  A  man  born 
blind  may  believe  that  the  sun  is  bright  upon 
the  testimony  of  another ;  but  if  he  should 
obtain  his  sight,  he  would  have  the  witness 
in  himself.     Believing  springs  from  a  sense 


12S 


ON  THE  INWARD  WITNESS  OF  FAITH. 


[let.  VIII. 


and  perception  of  the  truths  of  the  frospol ; 
and  whoever  hath  this  spiritual  perception  is 
a  believer.  He  has  a  witness  in  himself. 
He  has  received  the  Spirit ;  his  understand- 
ing  is  enlifjhtened,  whereby  he  sees  thinjrs 
to  be  83  they  are  described  in  the  word  of 
Grod,  respsctincT  his  own  state  by  sin,  and  the 
utter  impossibility  of  his  obtaining^  relief  by 
any  other  moans  than  those  proposed  in  the 
/gospel.  These  thinfjs  are  hidden  from  us 
by  nature.  He  has  likewise  received  the 
biood.  The  knowledg-e  of  sin,  and  its  de- 
merits, if  alone,  would  drive  us  todespair;  but 
by  t!ie  same  li^ht  of  the  Spirit,  Jesus  is  appre- 
hended as  a  suitable  and  all-suffioient  Saviour. 
All  that  is  declared  concernino-  his  person, 
offices,  love,  suffering-s,  and  obedience,  is 
understood  and  approved.  Here  the  wound- 
ed and  weary  soul  finds  healing  and  rest. 
Then  the  apostle's  language  is  adopted,  "  Yea, 
doubtless,  and  I  count  all  things  but  loss  for 
the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
Jesus  my  Lord."  He  has  likewise  received 
the  water,  considered  as  the  emblem  of  sanc- 
tification.  To  a  believer,  all  that  the  scripture 
teaches  concerning  the  nature,  beauty,  and 
necessity  of  holiness,  as  a  living  principle 
in  the  heart,  carries  conviction  and  evidence. 
A  deliverance  from  the  power,  as  well  as 
from  the  guilt  of  sin,  appears  to  be  an  im- 
portant, and  essential  part  of  salvation.  He 
sees  his  original  and  his  proper  happiness, 
that  nothing  less  than  communion  with  God 
and  conformity  to  him,  is  worth  his  pursuit. 
And  therefore  he  can  say,  "  My  soul  tliirsteth 
for  thee ;  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  after 
the  inward  man."  In  a  word,  his  judgment 
and  his  choice  are  formed  upon  a  new  spi- 
ritual taste,  derived  from  the  written  word, 
and  correspondent  with  it,  as  the  musical 
ear  is  adapted  to  relish  harmony :  so  that 
what  God  has  forbidden,  appears  hateful ; 
what  he  has  commanded,  necessary ;  what  he 
has  promised,  desirable;  and  what  he  has  re- 
vealed, glorious.  Whoever  has  these  percep- 
tions, has  the  witness  in  himself,  that  he  has 
been  taught  of  God,  and  believes  in  his  Son. 
If  you  think  this  e.xplanation  is  agreeable 
to  the  scripture,  you  will  be  satisfied  that  the 
witness  spoken  of  in  this  passage,  is  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  some  persons  understand  it 
to  be.  It  is  not  an  impulse,  or  strong  per- 
suasion impressed  upon  us  in  a  way  of  which 
we  can  give  no  account,  that  "  we  are  the 
children  of  God,"  and  that  our  sins  are  freely 
forgiven;  nor  is  the  powerful  application  of 
a  particular  text  of  scripture  necessary  to 
produce  it;  neither  is  it  always  connected 
with  a  very  lively,  and  sensible  comfort. 
These  things,  in  some  persons,  and  instances, 
may  accompany  the  witness  or  testimony  we 
are  speaking  of,  but  do  not  properly  belong 
to  it ;  and  they  may  be,  and  often  have  been, 
counterfeited.  But  what  I  have  described  is 
inimitable  and  infallible:  it  is  undubitably,  as 


the  magicians  confessed  of  the  miracles  of 
Moses,  the  finger  of  God,  as  certainly  the 
effect  of  his  divine  power  as  tlie  creation  of 
the  world.  It  is  true,  many  who  have  this  wit- 
ness walk  in  darkness,  and  are  harassed  with 
many  doubts  and  perplexities  concerning 
their  state ;  but  this  is  not  because  the  wit- 
ness is  not  sufficient  to  give  them  satisfaction, 
but  because  they  do  not  account  it  so;  being 
misled  by  the  influence  of  self-will  and  a  le- 
gal spirit,  they  overlook  this  evidence  as  too 
simple,  and  expect  something  extraordinary ; 
at  least,  they  tliink  they  cannot  be  right,  un- 
less they  are  led  in  the  same  way  in  which 
the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  lead  others, 
with  whom  they  may  have  conversed.  But 
the  Lord  the  Spirit  is  sovereign  and  free  in 
his  operations;  and  though  he  gives  to  all 
who  are  the  subjects  of  his  grace,  the  same 
views  of  sin,  of  themselves,  and  of  the  Sa- 
viour; yet  with  respect  to  the  circiunstan- 
tials  of  his  work,  there  is,  as  in  the  features 
of  our  faces,  such  an  amazing  variety,  that 
perhaps  no  two  persons  can  be  found  whose 
experiences  have  been  exactly  alike :  but,  as 
the  apostle  says,  that  "he  that  believeth," 
that  is,  whosoever  believeth,  without  excep- 
tion, "  has  the  witness  in  himself;"  it  must, 
consequently,  arise  from  what  is  common  to 
them  all,  and  not  from  what  is  peculiar  to  a 
few. 

Before  I  conclude,  I  would  make  two  or 
tliree  observations.  In  the  first  place,  I  think 
it  is  plain,  that  the  supposition  of  a  real  be- 
liever's living  in  sin,  or  taking  encourage- 
ment from  the  gospel  so  to  do,  is  destitute  of 
the  least  foundation  in  truth,  and  can  only 
proceed  from  an  ignorance  of  the  subject 
Sin  is  the  burden  under  which  he  groans ; 
and  he  would  account  nothing  short  of  a  de- 
liverance from  it  worthy  the  name  of  salva- 
tion. A  principal  part  of  his  evidence,  that 
he  is  a  believer,  arises  from  that  abhorrence 
of  sin  which  he  habitually  feels.  It  is  true, 
sin  still  dwelleth  in  him ;  but  he  loaths  and 
resists  it :  upon  this  account  he  is  in  a  state 
of  continual  warfare ;  if  he  was  not  so,  he 
could  not  have  the  witness  in  himself,  that  j 
he  is  born  of  God.  ■ 

Again,  from  hence  arises  a  solid  evidence,  * 
that  the  scripture  is  indeed  the  word  of  God, 
because  it  so  exactly  describes  what  is  ex- 
emplified in  the  experience  of  all  who  are 
subjects  of  a  work  of  grace.  While  we  are 
in  a  natural  state,  it  is  to  us  as  a  sealed  book ; 
though  we  can  read  it,  and  perhaps  assent  to 
the  facts,  we  can  no  more  understand  our 
own  concernments  in  what  we  read,  than  if 
it  was  written  in  an  unknown  tongue.  But 
when  the  mind  is  enlightened  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  the  scripture  a/ldresses  us  as  it  were 
by  name,  explains  every  difficulty  under 
which  we  laboured,  and  proposes  an  ade- 
quate and  effectual  remedy  for  the  relief  of 
all  our  wants  and  fears. 


LET.   IX.] 


ON  eij:ction  and  perseverance. 


120 


I^astly,  it  follows,  that  tho  hope  of  a  be- 
liever, is  built  iijHm  a  toundatiorj  timt  cniinot 
be  shaken,  ihouijh  it  may,  luul  w  ill  be,  im- 
Kaulled.  It  (l»y\s  not  (lepciul  u|X)n  (x-co-sional 
and  chonfjeable  frames,  upon  any  that  is  pre- 
earious  aiul  questionable,  but  u\xm  a  corres- 
{K)n(ience  and  ajjreement  with  the  written 
word.  Nor  does  this  aifreement  depend  U[Jon 
a  train  of  lal)our«Hl  arguments  and  deductions, 
but  is  self-evident,  as  li<jht  is  to  the  eye,  to 
every  person  who  has  a  real  participation  of 
the  grace  of  (Jod.  It  is  eipially  suited  to  all 
capacities;  by  this  the  unlearned  are  enabled 
to  know  their  election  of  God,  and  to  "rejoice 
with  a  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  g^lory." 
And  the  wisest,  if  destitute  of  this  percep- 
tion, though  they  may  be  masters  of  all  the 
external  evidences  of  Christianity,  and  able 
to  combat  the  cavils  of  infidels,  can  see  no 
real  beauty  in  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  nor 
derive  any  s<jlid  comfort  from  them. 

I  have  only  sent  you  a  few  hasty  hints:  it 
would  be  easy  to  enlarge ;  but  I  sat  down, 
not  to  write  a  book,  but  a  letter.  May  this 
inward  witness  preside  with  power  in  our 
hearts,  to  animate  our  hopes,  and  to  mortify 
our  corruptions ! — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IX. 

On  the  Doctrines  of  Election  and  Jinal  Per- 
severance. 

DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  breathes  the  spirit 
of  a  Christian,  though  you  say  you  are  not  a 
Calvinist  I  should  have  still  confined  my- 
self, in  my  letters,  to  the  great  truths  in 
which  we  are  agreed,  if  you  had  not  invi- 
ted me  to  touch  upon  the  points  wherein  we 
differ.  If  you  were  positive  and  peremp- 
tory in  your  present  sentiments,  I  should  not 
think  it  my  duty  to  debate  with  you;  in  that 
case,  we  might  contend  as  much  for  vic- 
tory as  for  truth.  But  as  you  profess  your- 
self an  inquirer,  and  are  desirous  of  forming 
your  judgment  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God, 
without  being  influenced  by  the  authority  of 
names  and  parties,  I  willingly  embrace  the 
occasion  you  offer  me.  You  say,  that  though 
you  are  not  prejudiced  against  the  doctrines 
of  election,  and  perseverance  of  the  saints, 
they  appear  to  you  attended  wath  such  diffi- 
culties, that  you  cannot  yet  heartily  and  ful- 
ly assent  to  them.  May  the  Lord  the  Spirit, 
whose  office  it  is  to  guide  his  people  into  all 
truth,  dictate  to  my  pen,  and  accompany 
what  I  shall  write  with  his  blessing. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  prove  and  illus- 
trate these  doctrines  at  large,  or  to  encounter 
the  various  objections  that  have  been  raised 
against  them.  So  much  has  been  done  in 
tliis  way  already,  that  I  could  only  repeat 
what  has  been  said  to  greater  advantage  by 


others.  Nor  need  I  refer  yoii  to  the  bnolui 
whi«:h  have  b<M>n  profi'MHetily  writtm  upon 
this  argument. — In  a  letter  to  a  frinid,  I  Mlmll 
not  aim  at  the  exactn»'KH  of  a  diHpiiliuit,  but 
oidy  offer  a  few  unpreni»'difnt«'d  hint*<,  in  tlio 
same  manner  as  if  I  had  l\ui  pleuaure  of  per- 
sonally conversing  with  you. 

Permit  me  to  remind  you,  in  the  first  place, 
of  that  im|)ortant  aphori.sm,  John  iii.  27, 
(which,  by  the  by,  sL-ems  to  speak  strongly 
in  favour  ol'  the  doctrines  in  (jue.stion  :)  "  A 
man  can  receive  nothing,  except  it  be  given 
him  from  heaven."  If  you  should  accede  to 
my  opinions  upon  my  persuasion  only,  you 
would  bo  little  benefitted  by  the  exchemge. 
The  Lord  alone  can  give  us  the  true,  vital, 
comfortable,  and  useful  knowledge  of  hi.s 
own  truths.  We  may  become  wise  in  no- 
tions, and  so  far  masters  of  a  system  or 
scheme  of  doctrines,  as  to  be  able  to  argue, 
object,  and  fight,  in  favour  of  our  own  hypo- 
thesis, by  dint  of  application,  and  natural 
abilities;  but  we  rightly  understand  what  we 
say,  and  whereof  we  affirm,  no  farther  than 
we  have  a  spiritual  perception  of  it  wrought 
in  our  hearts  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  by  noisy  disputation,  but 
by  humble  waiting  upon  God  in  prayer,  and 
a  careful  perusal  of  his  holy  word,  that  w^e 
are  to  expect  a  satisfactory,  experimental, 
and  efficacious  knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus.  I  am  persuaded,  that  you  are 
seeking  in  this  way ;  if  so,  I  am  confident, 
you  shall  not  seek  in  vain.  The  I^rd  teaches 
effectually,  though  for  the  most  part  gradu- 
ally. The  path  of  the  just  is  compared  to 
the  light,  which  is  very  faint  at  the  early 
dawn,  but  shineth  more  and  more  to  the  per- 
fect day. 

If  you  sincerely  seek  the  Lord's  direction 
by  prayer,  you  will  of  course  make  use  of  his 
appointed  means  of  information,  and  search 
the  scriptures.  Give  me  leave  to  offer  you 
the  following  advices,  while  you  are  reading 
and  comparing  spiritual  things  with  spiritual. 
First,  not  to  lay  too  great  stress  upon  a  few 
detached  texts,  but  seek  for  that  sense  which 
is  most  agreeable  to  the  general  strain  of  the 
scripture.  The  infallible  word  of  God  must 
doubtless  be  consistent  with  itself  If  it  does 
not  appear  so  to  us,  the  obscurity  and  seeming 
inconsistency  must  be  charged  to  the  remain- 
ing darkness  and  ignorance  of  our  minds.  As 
many  locks,  whose  wards  ditfer,  are  opened 
with  equal  ease  by  one  master-key;  so  there 
is  a  certain  comprehensive  view  of  scriptural 
truth,  which  opens  hard  places,  solves  objec- 
tions, and  happily  reconciles,  illustrates,  and 
harmonizes  many  texts,  which,  to  those  who 
have  not  this  master-key,  frequently  styled 
the  analogy  of  faith,  appear  little  less  than 
contradictory  to  each  other.  When  you  ob- 
tain this  key,  you  will  be  sure  that  you  have 
the  right  sense. 

Again,  you  will  do  well  to  consult  expe- 


130 


ON  ELECTION  AND  PERSEVERANCE. 


[let.  IX. 


lience  as  you  go  along-.  For  though  this  is 
not  to  be  depended  upon  in  the  first  instance, 
but  must  itself  be  subjected  to  the  rule  of  the 
written  word,  yet  it  is  a  jrood  subordinate 
help.  Consider  which  sense  is  most  agree- 
able to  what  passes  within  you  and  around 
you,  and  which  best  answers  to  the  dealings 
of  God  witli  yourself,  and  to  what  you  can 
observe  of  his  dealings  witli  otliers. 

Farther,  when  you  are  led  (as  I  think  you 
will  be,  if  you  are  not  already)  to  view  t!ic 
Calvinist  doctrines  in  a  favourable  liglit,  bo 
not  afraid  of  embracing  them,  because  there 
may  bo,  pr^rhaps,  some  objections,  which,  for 
want  of  a  full  possession  of  the  key  I  men- 
tioned, you  are  not  able  to  clear  up;  but 
consider  if  there  are  not  as  strong  or  stronger 
objections  against  the  other  side.  We  are 
poor  weak  creatures:  and  the  clearing  up  of 
every  difficulty  is  not  what  we  are  immedi- 
ately called  to,  but  rather  to  seek  that  light 
wliich  may  strengthen  and  feed  our  souls. 

Lastly,  compare  the  tendency  of  different 
opinions.  This  is  an  excellent  rule,  if  we 
can  fairly  apply  it.  Whatever  is  from  God 
has  a  sure  tendency  to  ascribe  glory  to  him, 
to  exclude  boasting  from  the  creature,  to 
promote  the  love  and  practice  of  holiness, 
and  increase  our  dependence  upon  his  grace 
and  faithfulness.  The  Calvinists  have  no  rea- 
son to  be  afraid  of  resting  the  merits  of  their 
cause  upon  this  issue ;  notwithstanding  the 
unjust  misrepresentations  which  have  been 
ot\en  made  of  their  principles,  and  the  ^m- 
generous  treatment  of  those  who  would 
charge  the  miscarriages  of  a  few  individuals, 
as  the  necessary  consequence  of  embracing 
those  principles. 

But  I  must  check  myself,  or  I  shall  finish 
my  letter  before  I  properly  begin  my  subject. 
You  have  objections  to  the  doctrine  of  elec- 
tion. You  will,  however,  agree  with  me, 
that  the  scripture  does  speak  of  it,  and  tliat 
in  very  strong  and  express  terms,  particular- 
ly St.  Paul.  I  have  met  with  some  sincere 
people,  as  I  believe,  who  have  told  me  that 
tliey  could  not  bear  to  read  his  eighth  chap- 
ter to  the  Romans,  but  always  passed  it  over ; 
so  that  their  prejudices  against  election,  pre- 
judiced them  against  a  part  of  the  scripture 
likewise.  But  why  so,  unless  because  the 
dreaded  doctrine  is  maintained  too  plainly  to 
be  evaded?  But  you  will  say,  that  some 
writers  and  preachers  attempt  to  put  an 
easier  sense  upon  the  apostle's  words.  Let 
us  judge  then,  as  I  lately  proposed,  from  ex- 
perience. Admitting,  what  I  am  sure  you 
will  admit-,  the  total  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture, how  can  we  account  for  the  conversion 
of  a  soul  to  God,  unless  we  likewise  admit 
an  election  of  grace  ?  The  work  must  be- 
gin somewhere.  Either  the  sinner  first 
seeks  the  Lord,  or  the  Ix)rd  first  seeks  the 
sinner.  The  former  is  impossible,  if  by  na- 
ture we  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;  if 


the  God  of  this  world  have  blinded  our  eyes, 
and  maintains  the  possession  of  our  hearts ; 
and  if  our  carnal  minds,  so  far  from  being- 
disposed  to  seek  God,  are  enmity  against  him. 
Let  me  appeal  to  yourself  I  think  you  know 
yourself  too  well  to  say,  that  you  either 
sought  or  loved  the  Lord  first ;  perhaps  you 
are  conscious,  that  for  a  season,  and  so  lar 
as  in  you  lay,  you  even  resisted  his  call ; 
and  must  have  perished,  if  he  had  not  made 
you  Avilling  in  the  day  of  his  power,  and  * 
saved  you  in  defiance  of  yourself  In  your 
own  case,  you  acknowledge  that  he  began 
with  you ;  and  it  must  be  the  case  univer- 
sally with  all  that  are  called,  if  the  whole 
race  of  mankind  are  by  nature  enemies  to 
God.  Then  farther,  there  must  be  an  elec- 
tion, unless  all  are  called.  But  we  are  as- 
sured that  the  broad  road  which  is  thronged 
with  the  greatest  multitudes,  leads  to  de- 
struction. Were  not  you  and  I  in  tliis  road  1 
Were  we  better  than  those  wiio  continue  in 
it  still  1  What  has  made  us  differ  from  our 
former  selves  1  Grace.  What  ho s  made  us 
differ  from  those  who  are  now  as  we  once 
were  ]  Grace.  Then  this  grace,  by  the  very 
terms,  must  be  differencing,  or  distinguishing 
grace ;  that  is,  in  other  words,  electing  grace. 
And  to  suppose,  that  God  should  make  this 
election  or  choice  only  at  the  time  of  our 
calling,  is  not  only  unscriptural,  but  contrary 
to  the  dictates  of  right  reason,  and  the  ideas 
we  have  of  the  divine  perfections,  particular- 
ly those  of  omniscience  and  immutability. 
They  who  believe  there  is  any  power  in  man 
by  nature,  whereby  he  can  turn  to  God,  may 
contend  for  a  conditional  election  upon  the 
foresight  of  faith  and  obedience ;  but  while 
others  dispute,  let  you  and  me  admire ;  for 
we  know  that  the  Lord  foresaw  us  (as  we 
were)  in  a  state  utterly  incapable  either  of  be- 
lieving or  obeying,  unless  he  was  pleased  to 
work  in  us  to  will  and  to  do  according  to  his 
own  good  pleasure. 

As  to  final  perseverance,  whatever  judg- 
ment we  form  of  it  in  a  doctrinal  view,  un- 
less we  ourselves  do  so  persevere,  our  pro- 
fession of  religion  will  be  utterly  vain ;  for 
only  "  they  that  endure  to  the  end  shall  be 
saved."  It  should  seem,  that  whoever  be- 
lieves this,  and  is  duly  apprized  of  his  own 
weakness,  the  number  and  strength  of  his 
spiritual  enemies,  and  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  arising  from  his  situation  in  this  evil 
world,  will  at  least  be  desirous  to  have,  if 
possible,  some  security  that  his  labour  and 
expectation  shall  not  be  in  vain.  To  be  at 
an  uncertainty  in  a  point  of  so  great  import- 
ance, to  have  nothing  to  trust  to  for  our  con- 
tinuance in  well  doing,  but  our  own  feeble 
efforts,  our  partial  diligence,  and  short-sight- 
ed care,  must  surely  be  distressing,  if  we 
rightly  consider  how  unable  v.e  are  in  our- 
selves to  withstand  the  forces  of  the  devil, 
the  world,  and  the  flesh,  which  are  combined 


LIT.  IX. 


ON  ELECTION  AND  PERSEVERANCE 


181 


arrainst  our  poaco.  In  thin  view  I  slioiiltl 
pxjH'ct,  that  the  oj)|)os«'rs  of  this  doctriiu',  if 
thoroii^^hly  s!cn.>*ibli'  ot'  their  state  iiiul  Hitiin- 
tion,  iiix^n  a  siipjxjsition  that  thev  should  he 
abh»  to  prove  it  uiisoriplural  and  talse,  would 
weep  over  their  victory,  and  be  st)rry  that  a 
sCMitiinent,  so  apparently  suited  to  ene()ura<re 
anil  aniniate  our  lu>pe,  should  not  be  founded 
111  truth.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
tliis  doctrine,  which  j^ives  to  the  Lord  tlic 
{j^lory  duo  to  his  name,  and  j)rovides  so  ertec- 
tualiy  for  the  comfort  of  his  people,  should 
l>o  opjKised  and  traduced  by  men  of  corrupt 
liearts.  But  it  may  well  seem  strang-e,  that 
they  who  feel  their  need  of  it,  and  cannot  be 
comfortable  without  it,  should  be  afraid  or 
unwillinjr  to  receive  it.  Vet  many  a  child 
of  litjlit  is  walkin;^  in  darkness  u{X)n  this  ac- 
count. Either  they  are  staggered  by  the  sen- 
timents of  those  whom  they  think  wiser  than 
themselves,  or  stumbled  by  the  falls  of  pro- 
fessors who  were  once  advocates  for  tliis 
doctrine,  or  perplexed  be  ause  they  cannot 
rigiitly  understand  those  passages  of  scripture 
which  seem  to  speak  a  different  language. 
But  as  light  and  knowledge  increase,  these 
ditficulties  are  lessened.  The  Lord  claims  the 
honour,  and  he  engages  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  complete  salvation,  that  no  power 
shall  pluck  his  people  out  of  his  hand,  or  se- 
parate them  from  his  love.  Their  perseve- 
nince  in  grace,  besides  being  asserted  in 
many  express  promises,  may  be  proved  with 
the  fullest  evidence  from  the  unchangeable- 
ness  of  God,  the  intercession  of  Christ,  the 
union  which  subsists  between  him  and  his 
people,  and  from  the  principle  of  spiritual 
life  he  has  implanted  in  their  hearts,  which, 
in  its  own  nature,  is  connected  with  ever- 
lasting life ;  for  grace  is  the  seed  of  glory.  I 
have  not  room  to  enlarge  on  these  particu- 
lars, but  refer  you  to  the  following  texts, 
from  which  various  strong  and  invincible  ar- 
guments might  be  drawn  for  their  confirma- 
tion; Luke  xiv.  23 — 30,  compared  with  Phil. 
i.  6 ;  Heb.  vii.  24,  with  Rom.  viii.  34—39 ; 
John  xiv.  19,  with  xv.  1,  2,  and  iv.  14.  Up- 
on these  grounds,  my  friend,  why  may  not 
you,  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set 
before  you,  and  committed  your  soiU  to  Jesus, 
rejoice  in  his  salvation ;  and  say,  "  While 
Christ  is  the  foundation,  root,  and  head,  and 
husband  of  his  people,  while  the  word  of  God 
is  Yea  and  Amen,  while  the  counsels  of  God 
are  unchangeable,  while  we  have  a  Mediator 
and  High  Priest  before  the  throne,  while  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  willing  and  able  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  while  God  is 
wiser  than  men,  and  stronger  than  Satan,  so 
long  the  believer  in  Jesus  is  and  shall  be  safe. 
Heaven  and  earth  may  pass  away,  but  the 
promise,  the  oath,  and' the  blood,  on  which 
my  soul  relies,  afibrd  me  a  security  which 
can  never  fail." 
As  the  doctrines  of  election  and  peree- 


vernncc  are  romfortahle,  h.o  they  cut  off  all 
pret«'nce  of  boasting  and  H«lf-<ie|K«ndrnc<», 
when  they  are  truly  received  in  the  heart, 
and  theret'ore  tend  to  exult  the  Saviour.  Of 
course  they  .^tain  the  pride  of  nil  human  glory, 
and  leave  us  nothing  to  glory  in  but  the  I/)rd. 
The  more  we  are  convinced  of  our  utter  dc- 
l)nivity  and  inability  from  tirst  to  last,  the 
more  excellent  will  Jesus  appear.  The 
whole  may  give  tlie  physician  a  good  word, 
but  the  sick  alone  know  how  to  prize  him. 
And  here  I  cannot  but  remark  a  difference 
between  those  who  have  nothing  to  trust  to 
but  free  grace,  and  those  whoa.scribe  a  little 
at  least  to  some  goal  disposition  and  ability 
in  man.  We  assent  to  whatever  they  en- 
force from  the  word  of  (Jwl  on  the  subject  of 
sanctification.  We  acknowledge  its  import- 
ance, its  excellency,  its  beauty;  but  we  could 
wish  they  would  join  more  with  us  in  exalt- 
ing the  Redeemer's  name.  Their  experience 
seems  to  leatl  them  to  talk  of  themselves,  of 
the  change  that  is  wrought  in  them,  and  the 
much  that  depends  upon  their  own  watchful- 
ness and  striving.  We  likewise  would  be 
thankful  if  we  could  perceive  a  change 
wrought  in  us  by  the  power  of  grace.  Wc 
desire  to  be  found  watching  likewise.  But 
when  our  hopes  are  most  alive,  it  is  less  from 
a  view  of  the  imperfect  beginnings  of  grace 
in  our  hearts,  than  from  an  apprehension  of 
him  who  is  our  all  in  all.  His  person,  his 
love,  his  sufferings,  his  intercession,  compas- 
sion, fulness,  and  faithfulness, — these  are  our 
delightful  themes,  which  leave  us  little  lei- 
suie,  when  in  our  best  frames,  to  speak  of 
ourselves.  How  do  our  hearts  soften,  and 
our  eyes  melt,  when  we  feel  some  liberty  in 
thinking  and  speaking  of  him  !  For  we  i.ad 
no  help  in  time  past,  nor  can  have  rny  in 
time  to  come,  but  from  him  alon"*  If  any 
persons  have  contributed  a  mite  to  their  own 
salvation,  it  was  more  than  we  could  do.  If 
any  were  obedient  and  faithful  to  the  first 
calls  and  impressions  of  his  Spirit,  it  was  not 
our  case.  If  any  were  prepared  to  receive 
him  beforehand,  we  know  that  we  were  in  a 
state  of  alienation  from  him.  We  needed 
sovereign  irresistible  grace  to  save  us,  or  we 
had  been  lost  for  ever.  If  there  are  any  who 
have  a  power  of  their  own,  we  must  confess 
ourselves  poorer  than  they  are.  We  cannot 
watch,  unless  he  watches  with  us  ;  we  can- 
not strive,  unless  he  strives  with  us;  we  can- 
not stand  one  moment,  unless  he  holds  us  up; 
and  we  believe  we  must  perish  after  all,  un- 
less his  faithfulness  is  ensraged  to  keep  us 
But  this,  we  trust,  he  will  do,  not  for  our 
righteousness,  but  for  his  own  name's  sake, 
and  because,  having  loved  us  wuth  an  ever- 
lasting love,  he  has  been  pleased,  in  loving- 
kindness,  to  draw  us  to  himself,  and  to  be 
found  of  us  when  w-e  sought  him  not. 

Can  you  think,  dear  Sir,  that  a  person  who 
,  lives  under  the  influence  of  these  sentiments 


132 


ON  GRACE  IN  THE  BLADE. 


[let.  X. 


will  desire  to  continue  in  sin,  because  grace 
abounds]  No;  you  are  too  candid  an  ob- 
server of  men  and  manners,  to  believe  tlie 
calumnies  which  are  propag-ated  ajjainst  us. 
It  is  true,  there  are  too  many  false  and  empty 
professors  amonj^st  us ;  but  are  there  none 
among^st  those  who  hold  the  opposite  senti- 
ments !  And  I  would  observe,  that  the  ob- 
jection drawn  from  the  miscarriages  of  re- 
puted Calvinists  is  quite  beside  the  purpose. 
VVe  maintain  that  no  doctrines  or  means  can 
change  the  heart,  or  produce  a  gracious  con- 
versation, without  the  efficacious  power  of 
almighty  grace :  therefore,  if  it  is  found  to  be 
so  in  fact,  it  should  not  be  charged  against  our 
doctrine,  but  rather  admitted  as  a  proof  and 
confirmation  of  it.  We  confess,  that  we  fall 
sadly  short  in  every  thing,  and  have  reason 
to  be  asliamed  and  amazed  that  we  are  so 
faintly  influenced  by  such  animating  prin- 
ciples ;  yet,  upon  the  whole,  our  consciences 
bear  us  witness,  and  we  hope  we  may  declare 
it  both  to  the  church  and  to  the  world,  with- 
out just  fear  of  contradiction,  that  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  are  doctrines  according  to 
godliness. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  X. 

A  ;  or,  Grace  in  the  Blade. — Mark  iv.  28. 

DEAR  SIR, — According  to  your  desire,  I  ^it 
down  to  give  you  my  general  views  of  a  pro- 
gressive work  of  grace,  in  the  several  stages 
of  a  believer's  experience,  which  I  shall 
mark  by  the  different  characters.  A,  B,  C, 
answerable  to  the  distinctions  our  Lord  teach- 
es us  to  observe  from  the  growth  of  the  corn, 
Mark  iv.  2"?,  "  First  the  blade,  then  the  ear, 
after  that  the  full  corn  in  the  ear."  The 
Lord  leads  all  his  people  effectually  and  sav- 
ingly to  the  knowledge  of  the  same  essential 
truths,  but  in  such  a  variety  of  methods, 
that  it  will  be  needful,  in  this  disquisition,  to 
set  aside,  as  much  as  possible,  such  things 
as  may  be  only  personal  and  occasional  in 
the  experience  of  each,  and  to  collect  those 
only  which,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  are 
common  to  them  all.  I  shall  not,  therefore, 
give  you  a  copy  of  my  own  experience,  or 
of  that  of  any  individual ;  but  shall  endea- 
vour, as  clearly  as  I  can,  to  state  what  the 
scripture  teaches  us  concerning  the  nature 
and  essentials  of  a  work  of  grace,  so  far  as 
it  will  bear  a  general  application  to  all  those 
who  are  the  subjects  of  gracious  operations. 

By  nature  we  are  all  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins,  not  only  strangers  to  God,  but  in  a 
state  of  enmity  and  cp}x>sition  to  his  govern- 
ment and  grace.  In  this  respect,  whatever 
difference  tliere  may  be  in  the  characters  of 
men  as  members  of  society,  they  are  all, 
whether  wise  or  ignorant,  whether  sober  or 


profane,  equally  incapable  af  receiving  or 
approving  divine  truths,  1  Cor.  ii.  14.  On 
this  ground  our  Lord  declares,  "  No  man  can 
come  unto  me,  except  the  Father  who  has 
sent  me  draws  him."  Though  the  term  Fa- 
tiier  most  frequently  expresses  a  known  and 
important  distinction  in  the  adorable  Trinity, 
I  apprehend  our  Lord  sometimes  uses  it,  to 
denote  God,  or  the  Divine  Nature,  in  contra- 
distinction from  his  humanity,  as  in  Johnxiv. 
9.  And  this  I  take  to  be  the  sense  here : 
"  No  man  can  come  unto  me,  unless  he  is 
taught  of  God,"  and  wrought  upon  by  a  di- 
vine power.  The  immediate  exertion  of  this 
power,  according  to  the  economy  of  salvation, 
is  rather  ascribed  to  the  Holy  i^pirit  than  to 
the  Father,  John  xvi,  6 — 11.  But  it  is  the 
power  of  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  therefore  severally  attri- 
buted to  the  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  John  v. 
21,  and  ch.  vi.  44,  63;  2  Cor.  iiL  18;  2 
Thes.  iii.  5. 

By  A,  I  would  understand  a  person  who 
is  under  the  drawings  of  God,  which  will  in- 
fallibly lead  him  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
for  life  and  salvation.  The  beginning  of  this 
work  is  instantaneous.  It  is  effected  by  a 
certain  kind  of  light  communicated  to  the 
soul,  to  which  it  was  before  an  utter  stranger. 
The  eyes  of  the  understanding  are  opened 
and  enlightened.  The  light  at  first  afforded 
is  weak  and  indistinct,  like  the  morning 
dawTi ;  but  when  it  is  once  begun,  it  will  cer- 
tainly increase  and  spread  to  the  perfect  day. 
We  commonly  speak  as  if  conviction  of  sin 
was  tlie  first  work  of  God  upon  the  soul  that 
he  is  in  mercy  about  to  draw  unto  himself 
But  I  think  this  is  inaccurate.  Conviction 
is  only  a  part,  or  rather  an  immediate  effect 
of  that  first  work  ;  and  there  are  many  con- 
victions which  do  not  at  all  spring  from  it,  and 
therefore  are  only  occasional  and  temporar}', 
though  for  a  season  they  may  be  very  sharp, 
and  put  a  person  upon  doing  many  things. 
In  order  to  a  due  conviction  of  sin,  we  must 
previously  have  some  adequate  conceptions 
of  the  God  with  whom  we  have  to  do.  Sin 
may  be  feared  as  dangerous  without  this; 
but  its  nature  and  demerit  can  only  be  under- 
stood by  being  contrasted  with  the  holiness, 
majesty,  goodness,  and  truth,  of  the  God 
against  whom  it  is  committed.  No  outw^ard 
means,  no  mercies,  judgments,  or  ordinances, 
can  communicate  such  a  discovery  of  God, 

j  or  produce  such  a  conviction  of  sin,  without 
the  concurrence  of  this  divine  light  and  power 
to  the  soiil.  The  natural  conscience  and  pas- 
sions may  indeed  be  so  far  wrought  upon  by 

i  outward  means,  as  to  stir  up  some  desires 
and  endeavours ;  but  if  these  are  not  founded 
in  a  spiritual  apprehension  of  tlie  perfections 
of  God,  according  to  the  revelatini  he  has 
made  of  himself  in  his  word,  they  will  sooner 
or  later  come  to  nothing;  and  the  person 
affected  will  either  return  bv  degrees  to  his 


J 


ON  GRACK  IN  TIIK  BLADK 


LET.  X.] 


f()rrnor  wavs,  2  Voter  ii.  20,  or  ho  will  sink 
into  a  SL'lt-ri^hlfous  form  of  ;,'-(HllinL'Si^  dos- 
litut(?  of  lh»' jH)\vi*r,  Luki' xviii.  11.  Ami 
tliprt'fore,  iu>  thoro  arc  so  many  thinj^s  in  the 
dispensation  of  tho  gospel  suited  to  work 
upon  tiio  natural  passions  of  nion,  the  many 
woful  miscarria<,'es  and  a|K)staci('S  amon<jst 
protessors  are  more  to  ho  lamented  than 
wondered  at.  For  thoun;h  the  siovd  may  seem 
to  sprinjif  up,  and  lixik  j^reen  for  a  season,  if 
tliere  be  not  depth  for  it  to  take  root,  it  will 
surely  wither  away.  We  may  ho  unable  to 
judj^e  with  certainty  upon  the  first  appear- 
ance of  a  reli<jious  profession,  whether  the 
work  be  tluis  deep  and  spiritual,  or  not ;  but 
"the  liOrd  knows  them  that  are  his ;"  and 
wherever  it  is  real,  it  is  an  infallible  token 
of  salvation.  Now,  as  God  only  thus  reveals 
himself  by  the  medium  of  scripture-truth,  the 
liijht  received  this  way  leads  the  soul  to  the 
scripture  from  whence  it  sprintrs,  and  all  the 
leadinjf  truths  of  the  word  of  God  soon  be- 
gin to  be  perceived  and  assented  to.  The 
evil  of  sin  is  acknowledjred,  the  evil  of  the 
heart  is  felt.  There  may  be  for  a  while  some 
efforts  to  obtain  the  favour  of  God  by  prayer, 
repentance,  and  reformation ;  but  for  the 
most  part  it  is  not  very  lonjT  before  these 
thino^s  are  proved  to  be  vain  and  ineffectual. 
The  soul,  like  the  woman  mentioned  Mark  v. 
23,  wearied  with  vain  expedients,  finds  itself 
worse  and  worse,  and  is  ijradully  broug-ht  to 
see  the  necessity  and  sufficiency  of  the  gos- 
pel salvation.  A  may  soon  be  a  believer 
thus  far :  That  he  believes  the  word  of  God, 
Eces  and  feels  things  to  be  as  they  are  thus 
described,  hates  and  avoids  sin,  because  he 
knows  it  is  displeasing  to  God,  and  contrary 
to  his  goodness ;  he  receives  the  record 
which  God  has  given  of  his  Son ;  has  his 
lieart  affected  and  drawn  to  Jesus  by  views 
of  his  glory,  and  of  his  love  to  poor  sinners ; 
ventures  upon  his  name  and  promises  as  his 
only  encouragement  to  come  to  a  tlirone  of 
grace ;  waits  diligently  in  the  use  of  all 
means  appointed  for  the  communion  and 
growth  of  grace ;  loves  the  Lord's  people, 
accounts  them  the  excellent  of  the  earth, 
and  delights  in  their  conversation.  He  is 
longing,  waiting,  and  praying  for  a  share  in 
those  blessings  which  he  believes  they  enjoy, 
and  can  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less.  He  is 
convinced  of  the  power  of  Jesus  to  save  him  ; 
but  through  remaining  ignorance  and  legal- 
ity, the  remembrance  of  sin  committed,  and 
tlie  sense  of  present  corruption,  he  often 
questions  his  willingness ;  and,  not  knowing 
the  abounding  of  grace,  and  the  security  of 
the  promises,  he  fears  lest  the  compassionate 
Saviour  should  spurn  him  from  his  feet. 

While  he  is  thus  young  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  gospel,  burdened  with  sin,  and,  per- 
haps, beset  with  Satan's  temptations,  the 
Lord,  "  who  gathers  the  lambs  in  his  arms, 
and  carries  them  in  his  bosom,"  is  pleased,  at 


VdS 


i'lmofi,  to  favour  him  with  cordialn,  !hut  ho 
may  not  ho  swallowed  up  with  «)veriinirh 
sorrow.  I'erluips  his  heart  iH  enlnrj;«*d  in 
prayer,  or  under  h(varing,  or  K)in(.'  g(xnl  pro- 
mise is  brought  home  to  iii.s  mind,  and  nppli- 
ed  with  power  and  sweetness,  lie  minlukcs 
th«*  nature  and  design  of  these  comforli<, 
which  are  not  given  him  to  rest  in,  but  to  en- 
courage him  to  press  forward.  H(!  thinks 
he  is  then  right,  becau.se  he  has  them,  and 
fondly  hopes  to  have  them  always.  'I'hen 
his  mountain  stands  strong.  But  ere  long 
he  feels  a  change ;  his  comforts  are  with- 
drawn; he  finds  no  heart  to  jjray ;  no  atten- 
tion in  hearing;  indwelling  sin  revives  with 
fresh  strength,  and,  perhaps,  Satan  returns 
with  redoubled  rage.  Then  he  is  at  his  wit's 
end :  thinks  his  hopes  were  presumptuous, 
and  his  comforts  delusions.  He  wants  to 
feel  something  that  may  give  him  a  warrant 
to  trust  in  the  free  promises  of  Christ.  His 
views  of  the  Redeemer's  gracefulness  are 
very  narrow ;  he  sees  not  the  harmony  and 
glory  of  the  divine  attributes  in  the  salva- 
tion of  a  sinner ;  he  sighs  for  mercy,  but  fears 
that  justice  is  against  him.  However,  by 
these  changing  dispensations,  the  I-ord  is 
training  him  up,  and  bringing  him  forward. 
He  receives  grace  from  Jesus,  whereby  he 
is  enabled  to  fight  against  sin  ;  his  conscience 
is  tender ;  his  troubles  are  chiefly  spiritual 
troubles ;  and  he  thinks,  if  he  could  but  at- 
tain a  sure  and  abiding  sense  of  his  accept- 
ance in  the  Beloved,  hardly  any  outward 
trial  would  be  capable  of  giving  him  much 
disturbance.  Indeed,  notwithstanding  the 
weakness  of  his  faitli,  and  the  prevalence  of 
a  legal  spirit,  which  greatly  hurts  him,  there 
are  some  things  in  his  present  experience 
which  he  may,  perhaps,  look  back  upon  with 
regret  hereafler,  when  his  hope  and  know- 
ledge will  be  more  established.  Particularly 
that  sensibility  and  keenness  of  appetite 
with  which  he  now  attends  the  ordinances, 
desiring  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word  with 
earnestness  and  eagerness  as  a  babe  does  the 
breast.  Ho  counts  the  hours  from  one  oppor- 
tunity to  another ;  and  the  attention  and  de- 
sire with  which  he  hears  may  be  read  in  his 
countenance.  His  zeal  is  likewise  lively; 
and  may  be  for  want  of  more  experience,  too 
importunate  and  forward.  He  has  a  love  for 
souls,  and  a  concern  for  the  glory  of  God, 
which,  though  it  may  at  some  times  create 
him  trouble,  and  at  others  be  mixed  with 
some  undue  motions  of  self,  yet  in  its  prin- 
ciple is  highly  desirable  and  commendable, 
John  xviii.  10. 

The  grace  of  God  influences  both  the  un- 
derstanding and  the  affections.  Warm  affec- 
tions, without  knowledge,  can  rise  no  higher 
than  superstition  ;  and  that  knowledge  which 
does  not  influence  the  heart  and  affections, 
will  only  make  a  hypocrite.  The  true  be- 
liever is  rewarded  in  both  respects ;  yet  we 


lai 


ON  GRACE  IN  THE  EAR. 


[let.  XL. 


may  observe,  that  thouf,'h  A  is  not  without 
knowledofe,  this  state  is  more  usually  remark- 
able for  the  warmth  and  liveliness  of  the  af- 
fections. On  the  other  hand,  as  the  work 
advances,  though  the  affections  are  not  left 
out,  yet  it  seems  to  be  carried  on  principally 
in  the  understanding.  The  old  christian  has 
more  solid,  judicious,  and  connected  views 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  glories  of 
his  person  and  redeeming  love  :  hence  his 
hope  is  more  established,  his  dependence 
more  simple,  and  his  peace  and  strength, 
cceteris  paribus,  more  abiding  and  uniform, 
than  in  the  case  of  a  young  convert ;  but  the 
latter  has,  for  the  most  part,  the  advantage 
in  point  of  sensible  fervency.  A  tree  is  most 
valuable  when  laden  with  ripe  fruit ;  but  it 
it  has  a  peculiar  beauty  when  in  blossom.  It 
is  spring-time  with  A ;  he  is  in  bloom,  and, 
by  the  grace  and  blessing  of  the  heavenly 
husbandman,  will  bear  fruit  in  old  age.  His 
%ith  is  weak,  but  his  heart  is  warm.  He 
will  seldom  venture  to  think  himself  a  be- 
liever ;  but  he  sees  and  feels,  and  does  those 
things  which  no  one  could,  unless  the  Lord 
was  with  him.  The  very  desire  and  bent  of 
his  soul  is  to  God,  and  to  the  word  of  his 
grace.  His  knowledge  is  but  small :  but  it 
is  growing  every  day.  If  he  is  not  a  father 
or  a  young  man  in  grace,  he  is  a  dear  child. 
The  Lord  has  visited  his  heart,  delivered 
him  from  the  love  of  sin,  and  fixed  his  desire 
supremely  upon  Jesus  Christ.  The  spirit  of 
bondage  is  gradually  departing  from  him, 
and  the  hour  of  liberty,  which  he  longs  for 
is  approaching,  when,  by  a  further  discovery 
of  the  glorious  gospel,  it  shall  be  given  him 
to  know  his  acceptance,  and  to  rest  upon  the 
Lord's  finished  salvation.  We  shall  then 
take  notice  of  him  by  the  name  of  B  in  a 
second  letter,  if  you  are  not  unwilling  that 
I  should  prosecute  the  subject. — I  am,  &lc. 


LETTER  XI. 
B ;  or  Grace  in  the  Ear. — Mark  iv.  23. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  manner  of  the  Lord's 
work  in  the  hearts  of  his  people  is  not  easily 
traced,  though  the  fact  is  certain,  and  the 
evidence  demonstrable  from  scripture.  In 
attempting  to  explain  it,  we  can  only  speak 
in  general,  and  are  at  a  loss  to  form  such  a 
description  as  shall  take  in  the  immense  vari- 
ety of  cases  which  occur  in  the  experience 
of  believers.  I  have  already  attempted  such 
a  general  delineation  of  a  young  convert, 
under  the  character  of  A,  and  am  now  to 
speak  of  him  by  the  name  of  B. 

This  state  I  suppose  to  commence  when 
the  soul,  after  an  interchange  of  hopes  and 
fears,  according  to  the  different  frames  it 
passes  through,  is  brought  to  rest  in  Jesus, 
by  a  spiritual  apprehension  of  his  complete 


suitableness  and  suITiciency,  as  the  wisdom, 
righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption 
of^all  who  trust  in  him,  and  is  enabled,  by  an 
appropriating  faith,  to  say,  "  He  is  mine,  and 
I  am  liis."  There  are  various  degrees  of  this 
persuasion ;  it  is  of  a  growing  nature,  and  is 
capable  of  increase  so  long  as  we  remain  in 
Ihis  world.  I  call  it  assurance,  when  it 
arises  from  a  simple  view  of  the  grace  and 
glory  of  the  Saviour,  independent  of  our  sen- 
sible frames  and  feelings,  so  as  to  enable  us 
to  answer  all  objections  from  unbelief  and 
Satan,  with  the  apostle's  words,  "  Who  is  he 
that  condemneth !  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea, 
rather,  that  is  risen  again ;  who  is  even  at 
the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh  in- 
tercession for  us."  Rom.  viii.  34.  This  in 
my  judgment  does  not  belong  to  the  essence 
of  faith,  so  that  B  should  be  deemed  more 
truly  a  believer  than  A,  but  to  the  establish- 
ment of  faith.  And  now  faith  is  stronger,  it 
has  more  to  grapple  with.  I  think  the  cha- 
racteristic of  the  state  of  A  is  desire,  and 
of  B  is  conflict.  Not  that  B*s  desires  have 
subsided,  or  that  A  was  a  stranger  to  con- 
flict ;  but  as  there  was  a  sensible  eagerness 
and  keenness  in  A's  desires,  which,  perhaps, 
is  seldom  known  to  be  equally  strong  after- 
wards; so  there  are  usually  trials  and  exer- 
cises in  B's  experience,  something  different 
in  their  kind,  and  sharper  in  their  measure, 
than  what  A  was  exposed  to  or  indeed  had 
strength  to  endure.  A,  like  Israel,  has  been 
delivered  from  Egypt  by  great  power  and 
a  stretched-out  arm,  has  been  pursued  and 
terrified  by  many  enemies,  has  given  himself 
up  for  lost  again  and  again.  He  has  at  last 
seen  his  enemies  destroyed,  and  has  sung  the 
song  of  ]Moses  and  the  I^mb  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Red  Sea.  Then  he  commences  B.  M 
Perhaps,  like  Israel,  he  thinks  his  difiicultiea  " 
are  at  an  end,  and  expects  to  go  on  rejoicing 
till  he  entere  the  promised  land.  But  alas ! 
his  difficulties  are  in  a  manner  but  beginning; 
he  has  a  wilderness  before  him,  of  which  he 
is  not  aware.  The  Lord  is  now  about  to  suit 
his  dispensations  to  humble  and  to  prove  him, 
and  to  show  what  is  in  his  heart,  that  he 
may  do  him  good  at  the  latter  end,  that  all 
the  glory  may  redound  to  his  own  free  grace. 
Since  the  Lord  hates  and  abhors  sin,  and 
teaches  his  people,  whom  he  loves,  to  hate  it 
likewise ;  it  might  seem  desirable  (and  all 
things  are  equally  easy  to  him,)  that  at  the 
same  time  they  are  delivered  from  the  guilt 
and  reigning  power  of  sin,  they  should  like- 
wise be  perfectly  freed  from  the  defilement 
of  indwelling  sin,  and  be  made  fully  conform- 
able to  him  at  once.  His  wisdom  has,  how- 
ever, appointed  otherwise.  But  from  the 
above  premises  of  his  hatred  of  sin,  and  his 
love  to  his  people,  I  think  we  may  certainly 
conclude,  that  he  would  not  suffer  sin  lo  re- 
main in  them,  if  he  did  not  purpose  to  over- 
rule it,  for  the  fuller  manifestation  of  the 


1«ET.  XI.] 


ON  GRACE  IN  TIIK  KAIt 


135 


frlory  of  his  pmro  and  wisdom,  and  for  tho 
iiiakiii^j  his  salvution  inoro  precious  to  their 
Houls.  It  is,  however,  his  coimimiul,  and 
tlierefore  their  duly;  yea,  further,  froiu  the 
new  nature  ht>  has  <»'iven  theni,  it  is  their  ch'- 
eire,  to  wateh  and  strive  airairist  sin;  and  to 
propose  the  niortilieation  of  the  whole  hody 
of  sin,  and  the  advaneenient  of  sanetifieation 
in  their  hearts,  as  their  fjreat  and  constant 
ahn,  to  which  they  are  to  have  an  hahitual 
jKjrseveriui]^  reufard.  Upon  this  phm  JJ  s<'ts 
out.  The  knowh^diz-eof  our  acceptance  with 
liod,  and  of  our  cverlastinsf  security  in  Ciirist, 
has,  in  itself,  the  same  tendency  upon  earth 
as  it  will  have  in  heaven,  and  would,  in  pro- 
portion to  tho  deijree  of  evidence  and  clear- 
ness, produce  the  same  elfects,  of  continual 
love,  joy,  peace,  nrratitude,  and  praise,  if  there 
was  nothinof  to  counteract  it.  But  B  is  not 
all  spirit.  A  depraved  nature  still  cleaves 
to  him,  and  he  has  the  seeds  of  every  natural 
corruption  yet  remainino-  in  his  heart.  He 
lives  likewise  in  a  world  that  is  full  of  snares 
and  occa^sions  suited  to  draw  forth  those  cor- 
ruptions; and  he  is  surrounded  by  invisible 
spiritual  enemies,  the  extent  of  whose  power 
and  subtility  he  is  yet  to  learn  by  painful  ex- 
perience. B  knows,  m  general,  the  nature 
of  his  Christian  warfare,  and  sees  his  right 
to  live  upon  Jesus  for  ricrhtcousness  and 
strength.  He  is  not  unwilling  to  endure 
hardships  as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
and  believes,  that  though  he  may  be  sore 
thrust  at  that  he  may  fall,  the  Lord  will  be 
liis  stay.  He  knows,  that  his  heart  is  "  de- 
ceitful and  desperately  wicked ;"  but  he  does 
not,  he  cannot  know  at  first,  the  full  mean- 
ing of  that  expression.  Yet  it  is  for  the 
Ix)rd's  glory,  and  will,  in  tlie  end,  make  his 
grace  and  love  still  more  precious,  that  B 
should  find  new  and  mortifying  proofs  of  an 
evil  nature  as  he  goes  on,  such  as  he  could 
not  once  have  believed,  had  they  been  fore- 
told to  him,  as  in  the  case  of  Peter,  Mark  xiv. 
29.  And  in  eflect,  the  abominations  of  the 
heart  do  not  appear  in  their  full  strength  and 
aggravation,  but  in  the  case  of  one,  who,  like 
B,  has  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious,  and 
rejoiced  in  his  salvation.  The  exceeding 
sinfulness  of  sin  is  manifested,  not  so  much 
by  its  breaking  through  the  restraint  of 
threatenings  and  commands,  as  by  its  being 
capable  of  acting  against  light  and  against 
love.  Thus  it  was  with  Hezekiah.  He  had 
been  a  faithful  and  zealous  servant  of  the 
Lord  for  many  years  ;  but  I  suppose  he  knew 
more  of  God  and  of  himself,  in  the  time  of 
his  sickness,  than  he  had  ever  done  before. 
The  Lord,  who  had  signally  defended  him 
from  Sennacherib,  was  pleased  likewise  to 
raise  him  from  the  borders  of  the  grave  by 
a  miracle,  and  prolonged  the  time  of  his  life 
in  answer  to  prayer.  It  is  plain  from  the 
eong  which  he  penned  upon  his  recovery, 
Ihat  he  was  greatly  affected  with  the  mer- 


cies ho  had  received ;  yet  Btill  thorn  was 
something  in  his  heart  which  he  kinrw  not, 
and  which  it  was  l()r  the  Lord'.s  glory  ho 
should  be  made  sensible  of;  and  therefore  ho 
was  plea.sed  to  leiivc  him  to  himself  It  in 
the  only  instarjce  in  which  he  is  .said  t«)  have 
becMi  lell  to  himself,  and  the  only  instance  in 
which  his  conduct  is  coiulemned.  I  appre- 
hend, that  in  the  ntate  of  B,  that  is,  li;r  a 
season  atVr'r  we  jjave  known  the  Ixjrd,  wo 
iiave  usually  the  most  sensi!)lo  and  distress- 
ing experi(M)ce  of  our  t^vil  natures.  I  do  not 
say,  that  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  be 
lell  to  fall  into  gross  outward  sin,  in  order 
to  know  what  is  in  our  hearts ;  though  I  be- 
lieve many  have  thus  fallen,  whose  hearts, 
under  a  ibrmer  sense  of  redeeming  love, 
have  been  as  truly  set  against  sin,  as  the 
hearts  of  others  who  have  been  preserved 
from  such  outward  falls.  The  Lord  makes 
some  of  his  children  examples  and  warnmgs 
to  others,  as  he  pleases.  They  who  are 
spared,  and  whose  worst  deviations  are  only 
known  to  the  Lord  and  themselves,  have 
great  reason  to  be  thankful.  1  am  sure  I 
have:  the  merciful  Lord  has  not  suffered  me 
to  make  any  considerable  blot  in  my  profes- 
sion during  the  time  I  have  been  numbered 
amongst  his  people.  But  I  have  nothing  to 
boast  of  herein.  It  has  not  been  owing  to 
my  wisdom,  watciifulness,  or  spirituality, 
though  in  the  main  he  has  not  suffered  me 
to  live  in  the  neglect  of  his  appointed  means. 
But  I  hope  to  go  softly  all  my  days  under  the 
remembrance  of  many  things,  tor  which  I 
have  as  great  cause  to  be  abased  before  him, 
as  if  I  had  been  left  to  sin  grievously  in  the 
sight  of  men.  Yet,  with  respect  to  my  ac- 
ceptance in  the  Beloved,  I  know  not  if  I  have 
had  a  doubt  of  a  quarter  of  an  hours  con- 
tinuance for  many  years  past.  But  oh  !  the 
multiplied  instances  of  stupidity,  ingratitude, 
impatience,  and  rebellion,  to  which  my  con- 
science has  been  witness !  And  as  every 
heart  knows  its  own  bitterness,  I  have  gene- 
rally heard  the  like  complaints  from  others 
of  the  Lord's  people  with  whom  I  have  con- 
versed, even  from  those  who  have  appeared  to 
be  eminently  gracious  and  spiritual.  B  does 
not  meet  with  these  things  perhaps  at  first, 
nor  every  day.  The  Lord  appoints  occasions 
and  turns  in  life,  which  try  our  spirits.  There 
are  particular  seasons,  when  temptations  are 
suited  to  our  frames,  tempers,  and  situations; 
and  there  are  times  when  he  is  pleased  to 
withdraw%  and  to  permit  Satan's  approach, 
that  we  may  feel  liow  vile  we  are  in  our- 
selves. We  are  prone  to  spiritual  pride,  to 
self  dependence,  to  vain  confidence,  to  cre- 
ate attachments,  and  a  train  of  evils.  The 
Lord  often  discovers  to  us  one  single  dispo- 
sition by  exposing  us  to  another.  He  some- 
times shows  us  what  he  can  do  for  us  and  in 
us;  and  at  other  times  how  little  we  can  do, 
and  how  unable  we  are  to  stand  without  him- 


136 


ON  GRACE  IN  THE  FULL  CORN. 


[let. 


By  a  variety  of  these  exercises,  through  the 
over-rulinof  and  edifyino^  influences  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  B  is  traiiiod  up  in  a  jrrowinp^ 
knowlednre  of  iiimsolf  and  of  the  \jord.  He 
learns  to  be  more  distrustful  of  his  own  heart, 
and  to  suspect  a  snare  in  every  step  he  takes. 
The  dark  and  disconsolate  hours  which  he 
has  broujjht  upon  himself  in  times  past,  make 
him  doubly  prize  the  light  of  God's  counte- 
nance, and  teach  him  to  dread  whatever 
might  grieve  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  cause 
him  to  withdraw  again.  The  repeated  and 
multiplied  pardons  wiiich  he  has  received, 
increase  his  admiration  of,  and  the  sense  of 
his  obligations  to,  the  rich,  sovereign,  abound- 
ing mercy  of  the  covenant  Much  has  been 
forgiven  him,  therefore  he  loves  much,  and 
tlierefore  he  knows  how  to  forgive  and  to 
pity  others.  He  docs  not  call  evil  good,  or 
good  evil ;  but  his  own  experiences  teach 
liim  tenderness  and  forbearance.  He  expe- 
riences a  spirit  of  meekness  towards  those 
who  are  overtaken  in  a  fault,  and  his  attempts 
to  restore  such,  are  according  to  the  pattern 
of  the  Lord's  dealings  with  himself  In  a 
word,  B's  character,  in  my  judgment,  is  com- 
plete, and  he  becomes  a  C  when  the  habitual 
frame  of  his  heart  answers  to  that  passage  in 
the  prophet  Ezekiel,  chap.  xvi.  63,  "  That 
thou  mayest  remember,  and  be  confounded, 
and  never  open  thy  mouth  any  more  (to 
boast,  complain,  or  censure,)  because  of  thy 
shame,  when  1  am  pacified  towards  thee  for 
all  that  thou  hast  done,  saith  tlie  Lord  God.!' 
— I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  XH. 

C ;  or,  Grace  in  the  Full  Corn  in  the  Ear. 
:Mark  iv.  2S. 

DEAR  SIR, — By  way  of  distinction,  I  as- 
signed to  A  the  ciiaracteristic  of  desire,  to  B 
that  of  conflict.  I  can  think  of  no  single 
word  more  descriptive  of  the  state  of  C  than 
contemplation.  His  eminence,  in  compari- 
son of  A,  does  not  consist  in  the  sensible 
warmth  and  fervency  of  his  affections:  in 
this  respect  many  of  the  most  exemplary  be- 
lievers have  looked  back  with  a  kind  of  re- 
gret upon  the  time  of  their  espousals,  when, 
though  their  judgments  were  but  imperfect- 
ly formed,  and  their  views  of  gospel-trutlis 
were  very  indistinct,  they  felt  a  fervour  of 
spirit,  the  remembrance  of  which  is  both 
humbling  and  refreshing ;  and  yet  they  can- 
not recall  the  same  sensations.  Nor  is  he 
properly  distinguished  from  B  by  a  conscious- 
ness of  his  acceptance  in  the  Beloved,  and  an 
ability  of  calling  God  his  father;  for  this  I 
have  supposed  B  has  attained  to.  Though 
as  there  is  a  growth  in  every  grace,  C  haviuQ; 


faithfulness  and  mercy,  confirmed  by  a  long- 
er experience,  his  assurance  is  of  course 
more  stable  and  more  simple,  than  when  he 
first  saw  himself  safe  from  all  condemnation. 
Neither  has  C,  properly  speaking,  any  more 
strength  or  stock  of  grace  inherent  in  him- 
self than  B,  or  even  than  A.  He  is  in  the 
same  state  of  absolute  dependence,  as  inca- 
pable of  performing  spiritual  acts,  or  of  re- 
sisting temptations  by  his  own  power,  as  he 
was  at  the  first  day  of  his  setting  out  Yet, 
in  a  sense,  he  is  much  stronger,  because  he 
has  a  more  feeling  and  constant  sense  of  his 
own  weakness.  The  Lord  has  been  long 
teaching  him  this  lesson  by  a  train  of  various 
dispensations ;  and  through  grace  he  can  say. 
He  has  not  suffered  so  many  things  in  vain. 
His  heart  has  deceived  him  so  often,  that 
he  is  now  in  a  good  measure  weaned  from 
trusting  to  it;  and  therefore  he  does  not 
meet  with  so  many  disappointments.  And 
having  found  again  and  again  the  vanity  of 
all  other  helps,  he  is  now  taught  to  go  to'  the 
Lord  at  once  for  "grace  to  help  in  every 
time  of  need."  Thus  he  is  strong  not  in 
liimself,  but  in  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

But  C's  happiness  and  superiority  to  B  lies 
chiefly  in  this,  that  by  the  Lord's  blessing  on 
the  use  of  means,  such  as  prayer,  reading, 
and  hearing  of  the  word,  and  by  a  sanctified 
improvement  of  what  he  has  seen  of  the 
Ijord,  and  of  his  own  heart,  in  the  course  of 
his  experience,  he  has  attained  clearer,  deep- 
er, and  more  comprehensive  views  of  the  mys- 
tery of  redeeming  love ;  of  the  glorious  ex- 
cellency of  the  Ix)rd  Jesus,  in  his  person,  offi- 
ces, grace,  and  faithfulness ;  of  the  harmony 
and  glory  of  all  the  divine  perfections  manifest- 
ed in  and  by  him  to  the  church  :  of  the  stabil- 
ity, beauty,  fulness,  and  certainty  of  the  holy 
scriptures,  and  of  the  heights,  depths,  lengths, 
and  breadths  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ. 
Thus,  though  his  sensible  feelings  may  not 
be  so  warm  as  when  he  was  in  the  state  of 
A,  his  judgment  is  more  solid,  his  mind  more 
fixed,  his  thoughts  more  habitually  exercised 
upon  the  things  within  the  vail.  His  great 
business  is  to  behold  the  glory  of  God  in 
Christ;  and  by  oehoiding,  he  is  changed  in- 
to the  same  image,  and  brings  forth,  in  an 
eminent  and  uniform  manner,  the  fruits  of 
righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  to 
the  glory  and  praise  of  God.  His  contem- 
plations are  not  barren  speculations,  but  have 
a  real  influence,  and  enable  him  to  exemplify 
the  Christian  character  to  more  advantage, 
and  with  more  consistence,  than  can,  in  the 
present  state  of  things,  be  expected  either 
from  A  or  B.  The  following  particulars 
may  illustrate  my  meaning. 

1.  Humility.  A  measure  of  this  grace  is 
to  be  expected  in  every  true  christian ;  but  it 
can  only  appear  in  proportion  to  the  know- 


had  his  views  of  the  gospel,  and  of  the  Lord's  i  ledge  they  have  of  Christ,  and  of  their  own 


urr.  XII.] 


ON  GRACE  IN  TIIK  FULL  CORN. 


137 


he&rts.  It  is  a  jwirt  of  Ch  daily  omploympnt 
to  ,tK»k  biick  iiixui  tlu'  way  by  which  the  Ix>nl 
haa  It\l  him:  and  while  ho  reviews  the  Klx*- 
iiezers  ho  h:us  set  up  all  ii\oi\ir  the  road,  he 
sees,  in  ahnost  an  eijual  nuinlxT,  the  nuniu- 
incn*^  of  his  own  jxTverse  returns,  and  how 
he  has,  in  a  thousand  instances,  rendered  to 
the  Lord  evil  for  {j^ood.  ('oin|Kirin}^  tiiese 
tiling  to<^etlier,  he  can,  without  atVcctation, 
adopt  the  apostle's  lansjuaufe,  and  style  him- 
self "loss  than  the  le.ist  ot'  all  saints,  and  of 
sinners  the  chief"  A  and  H  know  that  they 
ouirht  to  be  humbled  ;  but  C'  is  truly  so,  and 
ll-els  the  force  of  that  text  which  I  mention- 
ed in  my  last,  Ezek.  xvi.  03.  Again,  as  ho 
knows  most  of  himself,  so  he  lias  seen  most 
of  the  Ixjrd.  The  apprehension  of  infinite 
majesty  combined  with  intinite  love,  makes 
him  shrink  into  the  dust  From  the  exer- 
cise of  this  fi^race  he  derives  two  others, 
which  are  exceedinn^ly  ornamental,  and  prin- 
cipal branches  of  the  mind  which  was  in 
Christ 

The  one  is,  submission  to  the  will  of  God. 
The  views  he  has  of  his  own  vileness,  un- 
worthincss,  and  iEi'norance,  and  of  the  divine 
sovereignty,  wisdom,  and  love,  teach  him  to 
be  content  in  every  state,  and  to  bear  his  ap- 
pomted  lot  of  suffering  with  resignation,  ac- 
cording to  the  language  of  David  in  a  time 
of  affliction,  "  I  was  dumb,  and  opened  not 
my  mouth,  because  thou  didst  it." 

The  other  is,  tenderness  of  spirit  towards 
his  fellow  Christians.  He  cannot  but  judge 
of  their  conduct  according  to  the  rule  of  the 
word.  But  his  own  heart,  and  the  know- 
ledge he  has  acquired  of  the  snares  of  the 
world,  and  the  subtilty  of  Satan,  teach  him 
to  make  all  due  allowances,  and  qualify  him 
for  admonishing  and  restoring,  in  the  spirit 
of  meekness,  those  who  have  been  overtaken 
in  a  fault.  Here  A  is  usually  blamable;  the 
warmth  of  his  zeal,  not  being  duly  corrected 
by  a  sense  of  his  owni  imperfections,  betrays 
him  often  into  a  censorious  spirit.  But  C 
can  bear  with  A  likewise,  because  he  hath 
been  so  himself,  and  he  w411  not  expect  green 
fruit  to  be  ripe. 

2.  Spirituality.  A  spiritual  taste,  and  a 
disposition  to  account  all  things  mean  and 
vain,  in  comparison  of  the  knowledge  and 
love  of  God  in  Christ,  are  essential  to  a  true 
Christian.  The  world  can  never  be  his  pre- 
vailing choice,  1  John  ii.  13.  Yet  we  are  re- 
newed but  in  part,  and  are  prone  to  an  undue 
attachment  to  worldly  things.  Our  spirits 
cleave  to  the  dust,  in  defiance  of  the  dictates 
of  our  better  judgments ;  and  I  believe  the 
Lord  seldom  gives  his  people  a  considerable 
victory  over  this  evil  principle,  imtil  he  has 
let  them  feel  how  deeply  it  is  rooted  in  their 
hearts.  We  may  often  see  persons  entangled 
and  clogged  in  this  respect,  of  whose  sincer- 
ity in  the  main  we  cannot  justly  doubt;  espe- 
cially upon  some  sudden  and  unexpected  turn 
S 


in  life,  which  brings  them  into  a  »ifuifi«.rj 
thf-y  have  not  b<'en  tirrnMtnm«*d  to.  A 
derablo  {virt  of  our  trials  are  inercifn. 
}K)intpd  to  wean  us  from  thi.'<  projH'nsitv  ;  and 
it  is  gradually  weakened  by  the  l^ord^Hhliow- 
ing  us  at  one  time  tlie  vanity  of  the  creature, 
and  at  another  his  own  excellence  and  all- 
sufficiency.  Even  C  is  not  perfect  in  thin 
respoct;  but  he  is  more  sensihh?  of  the  evil 
of  such  attachments,  more  humbled  for  tli»m, 
more  watchful  against  them,  and  more  deli- 
vered from  them.  He  still  feels  a  fetter,  but 
he  longs  to  be  free.  His  allowed  desires  arc 
brought  to  a  point;  and  he  sees  nothing 
worth  a  serious  thought,  but  communion 
with  God  and  progress  in  holiness.  Whatever 
outward  changes  C  may  meet  with,  he  will, 
in  general,  be  the  same  man  still.  He  has 
learned  with  the  apostle,  not  only  to  sufier 
want,  but  which  is  perhaps  the  harder  lesson, 
how  to  abound.  A  palace  would  be  a  prison 
to  him,  without  the  Ix)rd's  presence;  and 
with  this  a  prison  would  be  a  palace.  Fron^ 
hence  arises  a  peaceful  reliance  upon  the 
Lord:  he  has  nothing  which  he  cannot  com- 
mit into  his  hands,  which  he  is  not  habitually 
aiming  to  resign  to  his  disposal.  Therefore, 
he  is  not  afraid  of  evil  tidings;  but  when  the 
hearts  of  others  shake  like  the  leaves  of  a 
tree,  he  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord,  who, 
he  believes,  can  and  will  make  good  every 
loss,  sweeten  every  bitter,  and  appoint  all 
things  to  work  together  for  his  advantage. 
He  sees  that  the  time  is  short,  lives  upon  the 
foretastes  of  glory,  and  therefore  accounts 
not  his  life,  or  any  inferior  concernment  dear, 
so  that  he  may  finish  his  course  with  joy. 

3.  A  union  of  heart  to  the  glory  and  will 
of  God,  is  another  noble  distinction  of  C's 
spirit.  The  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of 
his  people  are  inseparably  connected.  But 
of  these  great  ends,  the  first  is  unspeakably 
the  highest  and  most  important,  and  into 
which  every  thing  else  will  be  finally  resolv- 
ed. Now^,  in  proportion  as  we  advance  near- 
er to  him,  our  judgment,  aim,  and  end,  will 
be  conformable  to  his,  and  his  glory  will  have 
the  highest  place  in  our  hearts.  At  first  it 
is  not  so,  or  but  very  imperfectly.  Our  con- 
cern is  chiefly  about  ourselves ;  nor  can  it 
be  otherwise.  The  convinced  soul  inquires. 
What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  The  young 
convert  is  intent  upon  sensible  comforts ;  and 
in  the  seasons  when  he  sees  his  interest  se- 
cure, the  prospect  of  the  troubles  he  may 
meet  with  in  life  makes  him  often  wish  for 
an  early  dismission,  that  he  may  be  at  rest, 
and  avoid  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 
But  C  has  attained  to  more  enlarged  views; 
he  has  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  witJi 
Christ,  which  would  be  importunate,  if  he 
considered  only  himself;  but  his  chief  desire 
is,  that  God  may  be  glorified  in  him,  whether 
by  his  life,  or  by  his  death.  He  is  not  his 
own  ;  nor  does  he  desire  to  be  his  own ;  but 


133 


ON  HEARING  SERMONS. 


[let.  xrn. 


so  that  the  power  of  Jesus  may  be  manifested 
in  him,  he  will  take  pleasure  in  infirmities, 
in  distresses,  in  temptations ;  and  though  he 
lono^s  for  heaven,  would  be  content  to  live  as 
long-  as  Methuselah  upon  earth,  if  by  any 
thing  he  could  do  or  suffer,  the  will  and 
glory  of  God  min-ht  be  promoted.  And 
though  he  loves  and  adores  the  Ix)rd  for  what 
he  has  done  and  suffered  for  him,  delivered 
him  from,  and  appointed  him  to;  yet  he  loves 
and  adores  liim  likewise,  with  a  more  simple 
and  direct  love,  in  which  self  is  in  a  manner 
forgot,  from  the  consideration  of  his  glorious 
excellence  and  perfections,  as  he  is  in  himself 
That  God  in  Christ  is  glorious  over  all,  and 
blessed  for  ever,  is  the  very  joy  of  his  soul ; 
and  his  heart  can  frame  no  higher  wish,  than 
that  the  sovereign,  wise,  holy  will  of  God, 
may  be  accomplished  in  him,  and  all  his  crea- 
tures. Upon  this  grand  principle  his  prayers, 
schemes,  and  actions  are  formed.  Thus  C  is 
already  made  like  the  angels,  and,  so  far  as 
consistent  with  the  inseparable  remnants  of 
a  fallen  nature,  the  will  of  God  is  regarded 
by  him  upon  earth,  as  it  is  by  the  inhabitants 
of  heaven. 

The  power  of  divine  grace  in  C  may  be  ex- 
emplified in  a  great  variety  of  situations.  C 
may  be  rich  or  poor,  learned  or  illiterate,  of 
a  lively  natural  spirit,  or  of  a  more  slow  and 
phlegmatical  constitution.  He  may  have  a 
comparatively  smooth,  or  a  remarkably  thorny 
path  in  life ;  he  may  be  a  minister  or  a  lay- 
man :  these  circumstances  will  give  some 
tincture  and  difference  in  appearance  to  the 
work ;  but  the  work  itself  is  the  same ;  and 
we  must,  as  far  as  possible,  drop  the  consi- 
deration of  them  ail,  or  make  proper  allow- 
ances for  each,  in  order  to  form  a  right  judg- 
ment of  the  life  of  faith.  The  outward  ex- 
pression of  grace  may  be  heightened  and  set 
off*  to  advantage  by  many  things  which  are 
merely  natural,  such  as  evenness  of  temper, 
good  sense,  a  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
the  like :  and  it  may  be  darkened  by  things 
which  are  not  properly  sinful,  but  unavoid- 
able, such  as  lowness  of  spirits,  weak  abili- 
ties, and  pressure  of  temptations,  which  may 
have  effects  that  they  who  have  not  had  ex- 
perience in  the  same  things,  cannot  properly 
account  for.  A  double  quantity  of  real  grace^ 
if  I  may  so  speak,  that  has  a  double  quantity 
of  hinderances  to  conflict  with,  will  not  be 
easily  observed,  unless  these  hinderances  are 
likewise  known  and  attended  to ;  and  a 
smaller  measure  of  grace  may  appear  great 
when  its  exercise  meets  with  no  remarkable 
obstruction.  For  these  reasons  we  can  never 
be  competent  judges  of  each  other,  because 
we  cannot  be  competently  acquainted  with 
the  whole  complex  case.  But  our  great  and 
merciful  High  Priest  knows  the  whole;  he 
considers  our  frame,  "remembers  that  we 
are  but  dust :"  makes  gracious  allowances, 
pities,  bears,  accepts,  and  approves,  with  un- 1 


I  erring  judgment.  The  sun,  in  his  daily 
course,  beholds  nothing  so  excellent  end 
honourable  upon  earth  as  C,  though  perlups 
he  may  be  confined  to  a  cottage,  and  is  l.ttle 
known  or  noticed  by  men.  But  he  is  the  ob- 
ject and  residence  of  divine  love,  the  cliarge 
of  angels,  and  ripening  for  everlasting  glory. 
Happy  C  !  his  toils,  sufferings,  and  exercises 
will  be  soon  at  an  end ;  soon  his  desires  will 
be  accomplished  ;  and  he  who  has  loved  him, 
and  redeemed  him  with  his  own  blood,  will 
receive  him  to  himself,  with  a  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant;  enter  thou  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Ix>rd." 

Jf  this  representation  is  agreeable  to  the 
scriptures,  how  greatly  are  they  mistaken, 
and  how  much  to  be  pitied,  who,  while  they 
make  profession  of  the  gospel,  seem  to  have 
no  idea  of  the  effects  it  is  designed  to  pro- 
duce upon  the  hearts  of  believers,  but  either 
allow  themselves  in  a  worldly  spirit  and  con- 
versation, or  indulge  their  unsanctified  tem- 
pers, by  a  fierce  contention  for  names,  no- 
tions, and  parties.  May  the  Lord  give  to  you 
and  to  me  daily  to  grow  in  the  experience 
of  that  wisdom  which  "  is  first  pure,  then 
peaceable,  gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated, 
full  of  mercy  and  good  works,  without  par- 
tiality, and  without  hypocrisy." — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  Xni 
On  Hearing  Sermons. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  Lord 
has  at  length  been  pleased  to  fix  you  in  a  fa- 
voured situation,  where  you  have  frequent 
opportunities  of  hearing  the  gospel.  This  is 
a  great  privilege  ;  but,  like  all  other  outward 
privileges,  it  requires  grace  and  wisdom  to 
make  a  due  improvement  of  it :  and  the  great 
plenty  of  ordinances  you  enjoy,  though  in 
itself  a  blessing,  is  attended  with  snares, 
which,  unless  they  are  carefully  guarded 
against,  may  hinder,  rather  than  promote, 
your  edification.  I  gladly  embrace  the  occa- 
sion you  afford  me,  of  offering  you  my  advice 
upon  this  subject.  A  remembrance  of  the 
mistakes  I  have  myself  formerly  committed, 
and  the  observations  I  have  made  upon  tlie 
conduct  of  professors,  considered  as  hearers, 
will,  perhaps,  in  some  measure  qualify  me 
for  the  task  you  have  assigned  me. 

The  faithful  ministers  of  the  gospel,  are 
all  the  servants  and  ambassadors  of  Christ ; 
they  are  called  and  furnished  by  his  Holy 
Spirit;  they  speak  in  his  name;  and  their 
success  in  the  discharge  of  their  office,  be  it 
more  or  less,  depends  entirely  upon  his  bless- 
ing :  so  far  they  are  all  upon  a  par.  But  m 
the  measure  of  their  ministerial  abilities,  and 
in  the  peculiar  turn  of  their  preaching,  there 
is  a  great  variety.  There  are  "  diversities  of 


I 


Lrr.  Tin.] 


ON  IlKAUING  SKRMONS. 


130 


jfills  from  tho  samo  Spirit ;  and  ho  (listribiitos 
to  every  man  Boverully  acrordin;;  Id  IjIh  own 
will."  Some  uro  more  liuppy  in  ularmin»j 
the  careless,  others  in  administerinf^  conso- 
lation to  the  wounded  conscience.  Some  are 
set  more  especially  tor  the  establishment  and 
conlirmation  of  the  jjospeUloctrines;  others 
are  skilful  in  sol vin;j  casuistical  jxiints;  others 
are  more  excellent  in  enforcinfj  practical 
podliness;  and  others  nn^ain,  havin;:^  been  led 
through  depths  of  temptation  and  spiritual 
distress,  are  best  accpiainted  with  the  various 
working^s  of  the  heart,  and  know  best  how  to 
spciik  a  word  in  season  to  weary  and  exer- 
cised souls.  Perhaps  no  true  mini.sler  of  the 
gospel  (for  all  such  are  tau^jht  of  Cod)  is 
wholly  at  a  loss  upon  either  of  these  points; 
but  few,  if  any,  are  remarkably  and  equally 
excellent  in  managing  them  all.  Again,  as 
to  their  manner,  some  are  more  popular  and 
pathetic,  but  at  the  same  time  more  general 
and  diffuse;  while  the  want  of  that  life  and 
earnestness  in  delivery  is  compensated  in 
others,  by  the  closeness,  accuracy,  and  depth 
of  their  compositions.  In  this  variety  of  gifts, 
the  Lord  has  a  gracious  regard  to  tlie  differ- 
ent tastes  and  disjwsitions,  as  well  as  to  the 
wants  of  his  people ;  and  by  their  combined 
effects,  the  complete  system  of  his  truth  is 
illustrated,  and  the  good  of  his  church  pro- 
moted with  the  highest  advantage ;  while  his 
ministers,  like  officers  assigned  to  different 
stations  in  an  army,  have  not  only  the  good 
of  the  whole  in  view,  but  eacli  one  his  par- 
ticular post  to  maintain.  This  would  be  more 
evidently  the  case,  if  the  remaining  depravity 
of  our  hearts  did  not  afford  Satan  but  too 
much  advantage  in  his  subtile  attempts  to 
hurt  and  ensnare  us.  But  alas !  how  often 
has  he  prevailed  to  infuse  a  spirit  of  envy  or 
dislike  in  mhiiste^  towards  each  other,  to 
withdraw  hearers  from  their  proper  concern- 
ment, by  dividing  them  into  parties  and  stir- 
ring tiiem  up  to  contend  for  a  Paul,  an  Apol- 
los,  or  a  Cephas,  for  their  own  favourites,  to 
the  disparagement  of  others  who  are  equally 
dear  to  the  Lord,  and  faithful  in  his  service  ? 
You  may  think  my  preamble  lonf^:  but  I  shall 
deduce  my  advices  chiefly  from  it;  taking  it 
for  granted,  that  to  you  I  may  have  no  need 
of  proving  at  large  what  I  have  advanced. 

As  the  gifts  and  talents  of  ministers  are 
different,  I  advise  you  to  choose  for  your 
stated  pastor  and  teacher,  one  whom  you  tind 
most  suitable,  upon  the  whole,  to  your  own 
taste,  and  whom  you  are  likely  to  hear  with 
the  most  pleasure  and  advantage.  Use  some 
deliberation  and  much  prayer  in  this  matter. 
Intreat  the  Lord,  who  knows  better  than  you 
do  yourself,  to  guide  you  where  your  soul 
may  be  best  fed ;  and  when  your  choice  is 
fixed,  you  will  do  well  to  make  a  point  of  at- 
tending his  ministry  constantly,  I  mean,  at 
least  the  stated  times  of  worship  on  the  Lord's 
day.    I  do  not  say,  that  no  circumstance  will 


justify  your  going  elsowhero  at  stuh  limoa 
occasionally;  but  I  think  the  boldonxT  you 
are  absent  the  better.  A  stated  and  rej^iilnr 
attendance  cncouragt-s  the  minihliT,  afl'onJM  a 
giHxl  example  to  the  congregation  ;  nmi  a 
hearer  is  more  likely  to  meet  with  what  is 
directly  suited  to  his  own  case,  from  u  miniK- 
t(!r  who  knows  him,  and  expects  to  ne  him, 
than  he  can  be  trorn  one  who  is  a  stranger. 
Ks|)ecially,  I  would  not  wi.«-h  you  to  bo  absent 
for  the  sake  of  gratifying  your  curiosity,  to 
hear  tome  new  |)reacher,  who  you  have,  per- 
haps, been  told,  is  a  very  extraordinary  man. 
For  in  your  way  such  occasions  might  jkjs- 
sibly  ofler  almost  every  week.  What  I  have 
observed  of  many,  who  run  about  unseason- 
ably after  new  preachers,  has  reminded  me 
of  Prov.  .xxvii.  8.  "As  a  bird  that  wandereth 
from  her  nest,  so  is  the  man  that  wandereth 
from  his  place."  Such  unsettled  hearers  sel- 
dom thrive,  they  usually  grow  wise  in  their 
own  conceits  have  their  heads  filled  with 
notions,  acquire  a  dry,  critical,  and  censorious 
spirit;  and  are  more  intent  upon  disputing 
who  is  the  best  preaciier,  than  upon  obtaining 
benefit  to  themselves  from  what  they  hear. 
If  you  could  find  a  man,  indeed,  who  had  a 
power  in  himself  of  dispensing  a  blessing  to 
your  soul,  you  might  follow  him  from  place 
to  place ;  but  as  the  blessing  is  in  the  Lord's 
hand,  you  will  be  more  likely  to  receive  it 
by  waiting  where  his  providence  has  placed 
you,  and  where  he  has  met  with  you  before. 
But  as  human  nature  is  prone  to  extremes, 
permit  me  to  give  you  a  caution  on  the  other 
hand.  If  the  minister  under  whom  you 
statedly  attend,  is  made  very  acceptable  to 
you,  you  will  be  in  the  less  danger  of  slight- 
ing him.  But  be  careful  that  you  do  not 
slight  any  other  minister  of  Christ.  If,  there- 
fore, when  you  come  to  hear  your  own 
preacher,  you  find  another  in  the  pulpit,  do 
not  let  your  looks  tell  him,  that  if  you  had 
known  lie  had  been  there  you  would  not  have 
come.  I  wish  indeed  you  may  never  think 
so  in  your  heart;  but  though  we  cannot  pre- 
vent evil  thoughts  from  rising  in  our  minds, 
we  should  endeavour  to  combat  and  suppress 
them.  Some  persons  are  so  curious,  or  rather 
so  weak,  that  if  their  favourite  minister  is 
occasionally  absent,thcy  hardly  think  it  worth 
their  while  to  hear  another.  A  judicious  and 
faithful  minister,  in  this  case,  instead  of  being" 
delighted  with  such  a  mark  of  peculiar  at- 
tachment to  himself,  will  be  grieved  to  think 
that  they  have  profited  no  more  by  his  labours ; 
for  it  is  his  desire  to  wm  souls,  not  to  him- 
self, but  to  Jesus  Christ.  I  hope  you,  my 
friend,  will  always  attend  the  ordinances  with 
a  view  to  the  Lord's  presence;  and  when 
you  are  in  your  proper  place,  consider  the 
preacher  (if  he  preaches  the  truth)  as  one 
providentially  and  expressly  sent  by  the  Lord 
to  you  at  that  time ;  and  that  you  could  not 
,  choose  better  for  yourself,  all  tilings  con- 


140 


ON  HEARING  SERMONS. 


[let.  XIII. 


fciidered,  than  he  has  cliosen  for  you.  Do  not 
limit  the  Almig^hty,  by  confining  your  ex- 
pectations to  a  single  instrument  I?  you  do, 
you  will  probably  procure  your  own  disap- 
pointment. If  you  fix  your  hopes  upon  the 
man,  the  I^rd  may  withhold  his  blessing,  and 
then  the  best  men  and  the  best  sermons  will 
prove  to  you  but  as  clouds  without  water. 
But,  besides  the  more  stated  seasons  of  wor- 
ship on  the  Ix)rd's  day,  you  have  many  op- 
portimities  of  hearing  sermons  occasionally 
m  the  course  of  the  week ;  and  thus  you  may 
partake  of  that  variety  of  gifts  which  I  have 
already  spoken  of  This  will  be  either  a 
benefit,  or  otherwise,  according  to  the  use 
you  make  of  it.  I  would  recommend  to  you 
to  improve  tiiese  occasions,  but  under  some 
restrictions. 

In  the  first  place,  be  cautious  that  you  do 
not  degenerate  into  the  spirit  of  a  mere 
hearer,  so  as  to  place  the  chief  stress  of  your 
profession  upon  running  hither  and  thither 
after  preachers.  There  are  many  who  are 
always  upon  the  wing :  and,  without  a  due 
regard  to  what  is  incumbent  upon  them  in 
the  shop,  in  the  family,  or  in  the  closet,  they 
seem  to  think  they  were  sent  into  the  world 
only  to  hear  sermons,  and  to  hear  as  many 
in  a  day  as  they  possibly  can.  Such  persons 
may  be  fitly  compared  to  Pharaoh's  lean 
kine ;  they  devour  a  great  deal ;  but  for 
want  of  a  proper  digestion,  they  do  not  flour- 
ish ;  their  souls  are  lean ;  they  have  little  | 
solid  comfort ;  and  their  profession  abounds 
more  in  leaves  than  in  fruit.  If  the  twelve 
apostles  were  again  upon  earth,  and  you 
could  hear  them  all  every  week ;  yet  if  you 
were  not  attentive  to  the  duties  of  the  closet, 
if  you  did  not  allow  yourself  time  for  read- 
ing, meditation,  and  prayer ;  and  if  you  did 
not  likewise  conscientiously  attend  to  the 
concernments  of  your  particular  calling,  and 
the  discharge  of  your  duties  in  relative  life, 
I  should  be  more  ready  to  blame  your  indis- 
cretion, than  to  admire  your  zeal.  Every 
thing  is  beautiful  in  its  season;  and  if  one 
duty  frequently  jostle  out  another,  it  is  a  sign 
either  of  a  weak  judgment,  or  of  a  wrong 
turn  of  mind.  No  public  ordinances  can 
make  amends  for  the  neglect  of  secret  pray- 
er: nor  will  the  most  diligent  attendance 
iipou  them  justify  us  in  the  neglect  of  those 
duties,  which,  by  the  command  and  appoint- 
ment of  God,  we  owe  to  society. 

Again,  as  it  is  our  trial  to  live  in  a  day 
wherein  so  many  contentions,  and  winds  of 
strange  doctrines  abound,  I  hope  you  will 
watch  and  pray  that  you  may  not  have  itch- 
ing ears,  inclining  you  to  hearken  after 
novel  and  singular  opinions,  and  the  errone- 
ous sentiments  of  men  of  unstable  minds, 
who  are  not  sound  in  the  faith.  I  have 
known  persons,  who,  from  a  blameable  curi- 
osity, have  gone  to  hear  such,  not  for  the 
fiakc  of  edification,  which  tliey  could  not  ex- 


pect, but  to  know  what  they  had  to  say,  sup- 
posing that  they  themselves  were  too  well 
established  in  the  truth  to  be  hurt  by  them. 
But  the  experiment  (without  a  just  and  law- 
ful call)  is  presumptuous  and  dangerous.  In 
this 'way  many  have  been  hurt,  yea,  many 
have  been  overthrown.  Error  is  like  poison ; 
the  subtilty,  quickness,  and  force  of  its  opera- 
tion, is  often  amazing.  As  we  pray  not  to 
be  led  into  temptation,  we  should  take  care 
not  to  run  into  it  wilfully.  If  the  Lord  has 
shown  you  what  is  right,  it  is  not  worth  your 
while  to  know  (if  you  could  know  it)  how 
many  ways  there  are  of  being  wrong.  . 

Farther,  I  advise  you,  when  you  hear  a 
gospel  sermon,  and  it  is  not  in  all  respects  to 
your  satisfaction,  be  not  too  hasty  to  lay  the 
whole  blame  upon  the  preacher.  The  Lord's 
ministers  have  not  much  to  say  in  their  own 
behalf  They  feel  (it  is  to  be  hoped)  their 
owTi  weakness  and  defects,  and  the  greatness 
and  difficulty  of  their  work.  They  are  con- 
scious that  their  warmest  endeavours  to  pro- 
claim the  Saviour's  glory  are  too  cold  ;  and 
their  most  importunate  addresses  to  con- 
sciences of  men  are  too  faint;  and  sometimes 
they  are  burdened  with  such  discourage- 
ments, that  even  their  enemies  would  pity 
them,  if  they  knew  their  case.  Indeed,  they 
have  much  to  be  ashamed  of;  but  it  will  be 
more  useful  for  you,  who  are  a  hearer,  to 
consider  whether  the  fault  may  not  possibly 
be  in  yourself  Perhaps  you  thought  too 
highly  of  the  man,  and  expected  too  much 
from  him ;  or  perhaps  you  thought  too  mean- 
ly of  him,  and  expected  too  little.  In  the 
former  case,  the  Lord  justly  disappointed 
you;  in  the  latter,  you  received  according 
to  your  faith.  Perhaps  you  neglected  to 
pray  for  him  ;  and  then,  though  he  might  be  M 
useful  to  others,  it  is  not  at  all  strange  that  ^ 
he  was  not  so  to  you.  Or  possibly  you  have 
indulged  a  trifling  spirit,  and  brought  a  dearth 
and  deadness  upon  your  own  soul,  for  which 
you  had  not  been  duly  humbled,  and  the 
Lord  chose  that  time  to  rebuke  you. 

Lastly,  as  a  hearer,  you  have  a  right  to  try 
all  doctrines  by  the  word  of  God ;  and  it  is 
your  duty  so  to  do.  Faithful  ministers  will 
remind  you  of  this;  they  will  not  wish  to 
hold  you  in  an  implicit  and  blind  obedience 
to  what  they  say  upon  their  own  authority, 
nor  desire  that  you  should  follow  them  far- 
ther than  they  have  the  scriptures  for  their 
warrant.  They  would  not  be  lords  over 
your  conscience,  but  helpers  of  your  joy. 
Prize  this  gospel-liberty,  which  sets  you  free 
from  the  doctrines  and  commandments  of 
men;  but  do  not  abuse  it  to  the  purposes  of 
pride  and  self  There  are  hearers  who  make 
themselves,  and  not  the  scripture,  the  stand- 
ard of  their  judgment  They  attend  not  so 
much  to  be  instructed,  as  to  pass  their  sen- 
tence. To  them  the  pulpit  is  the  bar  at 
which  the  minister  stands  to  take  his  trial 


LKT.  XIV.] 


ON  TKMPTATION. 


141 


Dcforc  Uiom, — a  bar  at  which  few  CHcapc 
ceiisurr,  from  jiulij»'s  ut  oticr»  hw  Kevere  and 
iiu'onsisttMit.  For  as  tht's«»  ctMJSora  arc  not 
all  i>f  a  mind,  and,  prrliujKs  a^rcr  in  nothinj; 
8o  much  as  in  the  opinion  th««y  hav«»  of  thrir 
own  wisdom,  it  has  ollcn  ha|)i)«>nod,  that,  in 
th»*  courso  of  one  and  the  samo  sermon,  the 
minister  has  been  conibMuiuHl  as  a  lef'-alist, 
and  an  anlinomian;  as  t(K)  hij^h  in  his  no- 
tions, and  to  low;  as  havinj^  too  little  action, 
and  tix)  nnich.  Oh!  this  is  a  hateful  spirit, 
that  prompts  hearers  to  pronoimce  ex  cathe- 
dra, as  il'they  were  infallible,  breaks  in  uixm 
the  ri^'hts  of  private  j|i(l;^ment,  even  in  mat- 
ters not  essential,  and  makes  a  man  an  of- 
fender for  a  word.  This  spirit  is  one  fre- 
quent unhappy  evil,  which  sprinfrs  from  the 
corruption  of  the  heart,  when  the  Lord  af- 
fords the  means  of  grace  in  great  abundance. 
How  highly  would  some  of  the  Lord's  hidden 
ones,  who  are  destitute  of  the  ordinances, 
prize  the  blessing  of  a  preached  gospel,  with 
which  too  many  professors  seem  to  be  sur- 
feited. I  pray  God  to  preserve  you  from 
such  a  spirit  (which,  I  fear,  is  spreading,  and 
infects  us  like  the  pestilence,)  and  to  guide 
you  in  all  things. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  XIV. 
On  Temptation. 

DEAR  SIR, — What  can  you  expect  from 
me  on  the  subject  of  temptation,  with  which 
you  have  been  so  much  more  conversant 
than  myself!  On  this  point  I  am  more  dis- 
posed to  receive  information  from  you,  than 
to  offer  my  advice.  You,  by  the  Lord's  ap- 
pointmejit,  have  had  much  business  and  ex- 
ercise on  these  great  waters;  whereas  the 
knowledge  I  have  of  what  passes  there,  I  have 
gained  more  from  observation  than  from  ac- 
tual experience.  I  shall  not  wonder,  if  you 
think  I  write  like  a  novice ;  however,  your 
request  has  the  force  of  a  command  with  me. 
I  shall  give  you  my  thoughts,  or  rather  shall 
take  occasion  to  write,  not  so  much  to  you  as 
to  others,  who,  though  they  may  be  plunged 
in  the  depths  of  temptation,  have  not  yet 
seen  so  much  of  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
God  in  these  dispensations  as  yourself.  I 
shall  first  inquire,  why  the  Lord  permits 
some  of  his  people  to  suffer  such  violent  as- 
saults from  the  powers  of  darkness;  and 
then  suggest  a  few  advices  to  tempted  souls. 

The  temptations  of  Satan  (which  tliough 
not  the  most  painful,  are  in  reality  the  most 
dangerous)  do  not  directly  belong  to  my  pre- 
sent design.  T  mean  those  by  w^hich  he  is 
too  successful  in  drawing  many  professors 
from  the  path  of  duty,  in  filling  them  with 
spiritual  pride,  or  lulling  them  into  carnal 
cecurity.     In  these  attempts,    he  is  often 


most  i)owerful  and  prevalent  when  ho  in 
leant  penMMved,  Hn  Holdom  distreHxeM  thone 
whom  he  can  deceive.  It  i.s  chittly  when 
these  (mdeavonrH  fiiil,  that  he  fights  ngniriHt 
the  peac(»  v)f  the  i«)ul.  H«»  hatew  the  l/)rd'ri 
pectple,  gru<lges  them  all  their  privileges  and 
all  their  comlortH;  and  will  do  what  he  ran 
to  disijuiet  them,  becau.>^(?  he  cannot  prevail 
against  them.  And  though  the  liord  nein 
such  bounds  to  his  rage  as  he  cannot  pa.s.s 
and  limits  him  lK)th  as  to  manner  and  time, 
he  is  oll(Mi  pleased  to  suffer  him  to  dis- 
cover his  malice  to  a  considerabhi  degree; 
not  to  gratify  Satan,  but  to  iiumble  and  j)rovo 
them  ;  to  show  them  what  is  in  their  }ieart.s, 
to  make  tluMu  truly  sensible  of  their  imme- 
diate and  absolute  dependence  upon  himself, 
and  to  quicken  them  to  watchfulness  and 
prayer.  Though  temptation.s,  in  their  own 
nature  are  grievous  and  dreadful,  yet,  when 
by  the  grace  of  (iod,  they  are  productive  of 
these  eHects,  they  deserve  to  be  numbered 
among  the  "all  things,"  which  are  appointed 
to  work  together  for  the  good  of  those  who 
love  him.  The  light  carriage,  vain  confi- 
dence, and  woful  backslidings  of  many  pro- 
fessors, might,  perhaps  (speaking  after  the 
manner  of  men,)  have  been  in  some  measure 
prevented,  had  they  been  more  acquainted 
with  this  spiritual  warfare,  and  had  they 
drunk  of  the  cup  of  temptation,  which  but 
few  of  those  who  walk  humbly  and  uprightly 
are  exempted  from  tasting  of,  though  not  all 
in  the  same  degree.  One  gracious  end,  there- 
fore, that  the  Lord  has  in  permitting  his  peo- 
ple to  be  tempted,  is  for  the  prevention  of 
greater  evils,  that  they  may  not  grow  proud 
or  careless,  or  be  ensnared  by  the  corrupt 
customs  of  the  world.  In  this  view,  I  doubt 
not,  however  burdensome  your  trials  may  at 
some  seasons  prove,  you  are  enabled,  by  your 
composed  judgment,  to  rejoice  in  them,  and 
be  thankful  for  them.  You  know  what  you 
suffer  now ;  but  you  know^  not  w'hat  might 
have  been  the  consequence,  if  you  had  never 
smarted  by  the  fiery  darts' of  the  wicked  one. 
You  might  have  been  taken  in  a  more  fatal 
snare,  and  been  numbered  with  those  who, 
by  their  grievous  declensions  and  falls,  have 
caused  the  ways  of  truth  to  be  evil  spoken 
of. 

Another  design  is,  for  the  manifestation  of 
his  power,  and  wisdom,  and  grace,  in  sup- 
porting the  soul  under  such  pressures  as  are 
evidently  beyond  its  own  strength  to  sustain. 
A  bush  on  fire,  and  not  consumed,  engaged 
the  attention  of  Moses.  This  emblem  is  gene- 
rally applicable  to  the  state  of  a  Christian  in 
the  present  life;  but  never  more  so  than 
when  he  is  in  the  fire  of  temptation.  And 
though  his  heaviest  suftermgs  of  this  kind 
are  usually  hidden  from  the  notice  of  his  fel- 
low-creatures, yet  there  are  other  eyes  al- 
ways upon  him.  "  We  are,"  says  the  apos- 
tle, "a  spectacle  to  the  world;"  not  only  to 


142 


ON  TEMPTATION. 


[LETT,  xrr 


men,  but  to  angels  also.  Many  Ihino^s  pro- 
bably pass  in  the  invisible  slate,  in  which  we 
have  a  nearer  concernment  than  we  are  or- 
dinarily aware  of.  The  bejrinnini^  of  the 
book  of  Job  throws  some  light  upon  this 
point,  and  inlbrms  us  (of  which  we  should 
have  been  otherwise  totally  ignorant)  of  the 
true  source  of  his  uncommon  suiTerings. — 
JSatan  had  challenged  hiin,  charged  him  as  a 
hypocrite,  and  thought  he  was  able  to  prove 
him  one,  if  he  could  have  permission  to  at- 
tack him.  The  Ix)rd,  for  the  vindication  of 
Job's  integrity,  and  for  the  manifestation  of 
his  own  faithfulness  and  power  in  favour  of 
his  servant,  was  pleased  to  give  Satan  leave 
to  try  what  he  could  do.  The  experiment 
answered  many  good  purposes ;  Job  was  hum- 
bled, yet  approved ;  his  friends  were  instruct- 
ed; Satan  was  confuted  and  disappointed; 
and  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  the  Lord,  in 
his  darkest  dispensations  towards  his  people, 
were  gloriously  illustrated.  This  contest, 
and  the  event,  were  recorded  for  the  direc- 
tion and  encouragement  of  his  church  to  the 
end  of  time.  Satan's  malice  is  not  abated ; 
and  though  he  has  met  with  millions  of  dis- 
appointments, he  still,  like  Goliah  of  old,  de- 
fies the  armies  of  God's  Israel;  he  chal- 
lenges the  stoutest,  and  "desires  to  have 
them,  that  he  may  sift  them  as  wheat."  In- 
deed, he  is  far  an  overmatch  for  them,  con- 
sidered as  in  themselves;  but  though  they 
are  weak,  their  Redeemer  is  mighty,  and 
they  are  for  ever  secured  by  his  love  and  in- 
tercession. "  The  Lord  knows  them  that  are 
his,"  and  no  weapon  formed  against  them 
can  prosper.  That  this  may  appear  with  the 
fullest  evidence,  Satan  is  allowed  to  assault 
them.  We  handle  vessels  of  glass  or  china 
with  caution,  and  endeavour  to  preserve  them 
from  falls  and  blows,  because  we  know  they 
are  easily  broken.  But  if  a  man  had  the  art 
of  making  glass  malleable,  and,  like  iron, 
capable  of  bearing  the  stroke  of  a  hammer 
without  breaking,  it  is  probable,  that  instead 
of  locking  it  carefully  up,  he  would  rather,  for 
the  commendation  of  his  skill,  permit  many 
to  attempt  to  break  it,  when  he  knew  their 
attempts  would  be  in  vain.  Believers  are 
compared  to  earthen  vessels,  liable  in  them- 
selves to  be  destroyed  by  a  small  blow ;  but 
they  are  so  strengthened  and  tempered  by 
the  power  and  supply  of  divine  grace,  that 
tlie  fiercest  efforts  of  their  fiercest  enemies 
agaijist  them  may  be  compared  to  the  dash- 
ing of  waves  against  a  rock.  And  that  this 
may  be  known  and  noticed,  they  are  exposed 
to  many  trials ;  but  the  united  and  repeated 
assaults  of  the  men  of  the  world,  and  the 
powers  of  darkness,  afford  but  the  more  in- 
contestible  demonstration,  that  the  Lord  is 
with  them  of  a  truth,  and  that  his  strength  is 
made  perfect  in  their  weakness.  Surely 
tills  thought,  my  friend,  will  afford  you  con- 
fiolation;    and   vou  will  bo  content  to  6uf- 


1  fer,  if  God  may  be  glorified  by  you  and  in 
you. 

F'arther,  by  enduring  temptation,  you,  as 
a  living  member  of  the  body  of  Christ,  have 
the  honour  of  being  conformed  to  your  head. 
He  suffered,  being  tempted ;  and  because  he 
loves  you,  he  calls  you  to  a  participation  of 
his  sufferings,  and  to  taste  of  his  cup ;  not 
the  cup  of  the  wrath  of  God  ;  this  he  drank 
alone,  and  he  drank  it  all.  But  in  affliction 
he  allows  his  people  to  have  fellowship  with 
him.  Thus  they  fill  up  the  measure  of  his 
sufferings,  and  can  say,  "  As  he  was,  so  are 
we  in  the  world."  My  vel  not  that  the  world 
hates  you,  neither  marvel  that  Satan  rages 
against  you.  Should  not  the  disciple  be  as 
his  Lord  ?  Can  the  servant  expect  or  desire 
peace  from  the  avowed  enemies  of  his  Mas- 
ter ?  We  are  to  follow  his  steps ;  and  can 
we  wish,  if  it  were  possible,  to  walk  in  a  path 
strewed  with  flowers,  when  his  was  strewed 
with  thorns  ]  Let  us  be  in  nothing  terrified 
by  the  power  of  our  adversaries,  which  is  to 
them  an  evident  token  of  perdition,  but  to 
us  of  salvation,  and  that  of  God.  To  us  it  is 
given,  not  only  to  believe  in  Christ,  but  also 
to  suffer  for  his  sake.  If  we  would  make 
peace  with  the  world,  the  world  would  let  us 
alone ;  if  we  would  be  content  to  walk  in  the 
ways  of  sin,  Satan  would  give  us  no  disturb- 
ance ;  but  because  grace  has  rescued  us  from 
his  dominion,  and  the  love  of  Jesus  constrains 
us  to  live  to  him  alone,  therefore  the  enemy, 
like  a  lion  robbed  of  his  prey,  roars  against 
us.  He  roars,  but  he  cannot  devour;  he 
plots  and  rages,  but  he  cannot  prevail ;  ho 
disquiets,  but  he  cannot  destroy.  If  we  suf- 
fer with  Christ,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him. 
In  due  time  he  will  bruise  Satan  under  our 
feet,  make  us  more  than  conquerors,  and 
place  us  where  we  shall  hear  the  voice  of 
war  no  more  for  ever. 

Again,  as  by  temptations  we  are  conformed 
to  the  life  of  Christ,  so  likewise,  by  the  sanc- 
tifying power  of  grace,  they  are  made  sub- 
servient to  advance  our  conformity  to  his  im- 
age ;  particularly  as  we  thereby  acquire  a 
sympathy  and  fellow-feeling  with  our  suffer- 
ing brethren.  This  is  eminently  a  branch  of 
the  mind  that  was  in  Christ.  He  knows 
how  to  pity  and  help  those  who  are  tempted, 
because  he  has  been  tempted  himself  He 
knows  what  temptations  mean,  not  only  with 
that  knowledge  whereby  he  knows  all  things, 
but  by  experience.  He  well  remembers  what 
he  endured  in  the  wilderness  and  in  the  gar- 
den ;  and  though  it  is  for  his  glory  and  our 
comfort  that  he  suffered  temptation  without 
sin,  yet  for  that  very  reason,  and  because  he 
was  perfectly  holy,  the  temptations  of  Satan 
were  unspeakably  more  bitter  to  him  than 
they  can  be  to  us.  The  great  duty  and  re- 
fuge of  the  tempted  now  is,  to  apply  to  him, 
and  they  have  the  highest  encouragement  to 
do  so,  in  that  they  are  assured  he  i^  touched 


LET.  XIV  J 


ON  TEMPTATION. 


143 


with  a  fcfliufj'  of  our  iiitirniiti«^^.  And,  for 
Iho  like  nnuson.  tlu'v  fmd  some  cousoliitioii  in 
applyin<r  to  thosr  ot  tluMr  bn'tlirt'ii  who  hiiv«' 
8uiU*r«vl  tho  Kiino  thinj^s.  Nono  but  th«'S(» 
can  eithtT  uiKh'rstaiui  or  pity  their  com- 
plaints. If  tht»  lA)ril  lias  any  childrrn  who 
arc  not  exeroisinl  with  spiritual  trinptationH, 
1  am  suro  thoy  are  but  |MK)rly  (pialitiod  to 
"spoak  a  word  in  soa.«'on  to  tiiom  that  are 
woary."  In  this  school  you  havo  ac(|uirod 
the  tonnfuo  of  tho  learned;  and  let  it  not 
seem  a  small  thin;]^  to  you,  if  tho  Lord  has 
fjiven  you  wisdom  and  ability  to  comfort  the 
alllicted  ones.  If  yoyr  prayers,  your  con- 
versation, anil  the  knowledufe  thoy  have  of 
your  trials,  allord  them  some  relief  in  a  dark 
hour,  this  is  an  honour  and  a  privilege  which 
I  am  persuaded  you  will  tiiink  you  havo  not 
purchased  too  dear  by  all  that  you  have  en- 
dured. 

Once  more,  temptations,  by  giving  us  a 
paintul  sensibility  of  tho  weakness  of  our 
graces,  and  the  strength  of  our  inward  cor- 
ruptions, tend  to  mortify  the  evil  principles  of 
self-dependence  and  sclt-righteousness,  which 
are  so  deeply  rooted  in  our  fallen  nature ;  to 
make  Christ,  in  all  his  relations,  offices,  and 
characters,  more  precious  to  us;  and  to  con- 
vince us,  that  without  him  we  can  do  nothing. 
It  would  be  easy  to  enlarge  upon  these  and 
other  advantages  which  the  Lord  enables  his 
people  to  derive  from  the  things  which  they 
sutier ;  so  that  they  may  say,  with  Samson, 
"  Out  of  the  eater  comes  forth  meat ;"  and 
that  what  their  adversary  designs  for  their 
overthrow,  contributes  to  their  establishment. 
But  I  have  already  exceeded  my  limits. — 
Enough  I  hope  has  been  said  to  prove,  that 
he  has  wise  and  gracious  ends  in  permitting 
them,  for  a  season,  to  be  tossed  with  tempest, 
and  not  comforted.  Ere  long  these  designs 
\vill  be  more  fully  unfolded  to  us;  and  we 
shall  be  satisfied  that  he  has  done  all  things 
well.  In  the  mean  while  it  is  our  duty,  and 
will  be  much  for  our  comfort,  to  believe  it 
upon  the  authority  of  his  word. 

I  should  now  proceed  to  offer  some  advices 
to  those  who  are  tempted  ;  but  I  am  ready  to 
say,  To  what  purpose  ]  When  the  enemy 
comes  in  like  a  flood ;  when  the  very  founda- 
tions of  hope  are  attacked ;  when  suspicions 
are  raised  in  the  mind,  not  only  concerning 
an  interest  in  the  promises,  but  concerning 
the  truth  of  the  scripture  itself;  when  a  dark 
cloud  blots  out,  not  only  the  sense,  but  al- 
most the  remembrance  of  past  comforts; 
when  the  mind  is  overwhelmed  with  torrents 
of  blasphemous,  unclean,  or  monstrous  ima- 
ginations, things  horrible  and  unutterable ; 
when  the  fiery  darts  of  Satan  have  set  the 
corruptions  of  the  heart  in  a  flame ;  at  such 
a  season  a  person  is  little  disposed  or  able  to 
listen  to  advice.  I  shall,  however,  mention 
some  things  by  which  ordinarily  Satan  main- 
tains his  advantasre  against  them  ia  these 


I  circumHtanceM,  that  ihey  may  U-  uim.h  iheir 
guard  as  much  n»  posMible. 
His  priiuripiil  devices  are: 

1.  To  hide  from  them  the  lA)nrHderii.'ri«,  in 
pernjitting  him  thus  to  rage.  Sotn(?  oi'theMO 
I  have  noticed  ;  and  they  should  end«'avour 
to  keep  them  UjKtn  their  minds.  It  is  hard 
for  them,  during  the  violence?  of  tho  htorm, 
to  conceive  that  any  good  can  poFsibly  iri.s<; 
from  the  experience  of  so  much  evil.  Hut 
when  the  storm  is  over,  they  fmd  that  the 
Lord  is  still  mindful  of  them.  Now,  though 
a  young  soldier  may  well  be  startled  at  the 
first  onset  in  tho  field  of  battle,  it  seems  pos- 
sible, that  those  who  have  been  often  en- 
gaged, should  at  length  gain  confidence  from 
the  recollection  of  the  many  instances  in 
which  they  have  formerly  found,  by  the  event, 
that  the  Lord  was  surely  with  tliem  in  the 
like  difficulties,  and  that  their  fears  were 
only  groundless  and  imaginary.  When  the 
warfare  is  hottest,  they  have  still  reason  to 
say,  "Hope  thou  in  Ood ;  for  I  shall  yet 
praise  him." 

2.  To  make  them  utter  impatient  speeches, 
w^hich  do  but  aggravate  their  distress.  It  i:f 
said  of  Job,  under  his  first  trials,  "  In  all  thia 
he  sinnctl  not  with  his  lips,  nor  charged  God 
foolishly  "  So  long  Satan  was  unable  to  pre- 
vail. Afterwards  he  opened  his  mouth,  as 
Jeremiah  did  likewise,  and  cursed  the  day  of 
his  birth.  When  he  once  began  cO  complain, 
his  causes  of  complaint  increased.  We  can- 
not prevent  dreadful  thoughts  from  arising 
in  our  hearts ;  but  we  should  be  cautious  of 
giving  them  vent  by  speaking  unadvisedly. 
This  is  like  letting  in  wind  upon  a  smother- 
ing fire,  which  will  make  it  burn  more 
fiercely. 

3.  To  persuade  them  that  all  they  feel  and 
tremble  at,  arises  immediately  from  their  own 
hearts.  Indeed,  it  is  a  most  awful  proof  of 
our  depravity,  that  we  feel  something  within 
ready  to  close  with  the  suggestions  of  the 
enemy,  in  defiance  of  our  better  judgment 
and  desires.  But  it  is  not  so  in  all  cases.  It 
is  not  always  easy,  nor  is  it  needful,  exactly 
to  draw  the  line  between  the  temptations  of 
Satan  and  our  own  corruptions ;  but  some- 
times it  is  not  impossible  to  distinguish  them. 
When  a  child  of  God  is  tempted  to  blaspheme 
the  name  that  he  adores,  or  to  commit  such 
evils  as  even  unsanctified  nature  would  recofi 
at;  the  enemy  has  done  it,  and  shall  be  an- 
swerable for  the  whole  guilt.  The  soul,  in 
this  case,  is  passive,  and  suffers  with  extreme 
reluctance,  what  it  more  dreads  than  the 
greatest  evils  which  can  affect  the  body. — 
Nor  do  the  deepest  wounds  of  this  kind  leave 
a  scar  upon  the  conscience,  wdien  the  storm 
is  over ;  which  is  a  proof  that  they  are  not 
our  own  act. 

4.  To  drive  them  from  the  throne  of  grace. 
Prayer,  which  is  at  all  times  necessary,  is 
especially  so  in  a  time  of  temptation.    But 


144 


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[let.  XV. 


now  hard  is  it  to  come  boldly,  that  we  may 
obtain  help  in  this  time  of  need  !  But,  how- 
ever hard,  it  must  be  attempted.  By  discon- 
tinuint*-  prayer,  we  give  the  enemy  the  great- 
est encourajrement  possible  ;  for  then  he  sees 
that  his  temptations  liave  the  effect  which  he 
intends  by  them,  to  intercept  us  from  our 
etrong^-hold.  Wlien  our  I^rd  was  in  an  at^ony, 
he  prayed  the  most  earnestly ;  the  ardour  of 
his  prayer  increased  with  the  distress  of  liis 
soul.  It  would  be  liappy  if  we  could  always 
imitate  him  in  this;  but  too  often  temptations 
and  difficulties,  instead  of  rousing  our  appli- 
cation, disheartens  and  enfeebles  us ;  so  that 
our  cries  are  the  faintest  when  we  stand 
most  in  need  of  assistance.  But,  so  long  as 
prayer  is  restrained,  our  burden  is  increased. 
Psalm  xxxii.  3,  5.  If  he  cannot  make  them 
omit  praying,  he  will  repeatedly  endeavour 
to  weary  them,  by  working  upon  the  legality 
which  cleaves  so  close  to  the  heart.  Satan 
is  a  hard  task-master,  when  he  interferes  in 
the  performance  of  our  spiritual  duties.  Tliis 
he  does,  perhaps,  more  frequently  than  we 
think  of;  for  he  can,  if  it  serves  his  purpose, 
appear  as  an  angel  of  light.  When  the  soul 
is  in  a  tempest,  and  attempts  to  pray,  he  will 
suggest,  that  prayer  on  these  occasions  should 
be  protracted  to  such  a  length,  and  performed 
with  such  steadiness,  as  is  found  to  be  at  that 
season  quite  impracticable.  Such  constrained 
efforts  are  'vearisome ;  and  from  the  manner 
of  the  performance,  he  takes  occasion  to  fix 
fresh  guilt  upon  the  conscience.  Short,  fre- 
quent, and  fervent  petitions,  which  will  al- 
most necessarily  arise  from  what  is  felt  when 
temptation  is  violent,  are  best  suited  to  the 
case ;  and  we  need  not  add  to  the  burden,  by 
tasking  ourselves  beyond  our  power,  as  if  we 
expected  to  be  heard  for  our  much  speaking. 
Blessed  be  God,  that  we  fight  with  an  enemy 
already  vanquished  by  our  Lord,  and  that  we 
have  a  sure  promise  of  victory.  The  Lord  is 
our  banner. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  XV. 

A  Plan  of  a    Compendious  Christian 
Library. 

DEAR  SIR, — An  eager  desire  of  reading 
many  books,  though  it  is  often  supposed  to 
be  the  effect  of  a  taste  for  knowledge,  is  per- 
haps a  principal  cause  of  detaining  multi- 
tudes in  ignorance  and  perplexity.  When 
an  unexperienced  person  thus  ventures  into 
the  uncertain  tide  of  opinions,  he  is  liable  to 
be  luirried  hither  and  thither  with  the  chang- 
ing stream ;  to  fall  in  with  every  new  pro- 
posal, and  to  be  continually  embarrassed 
with  the  difficulty  of  distinguishing  between 
probability  and  truth.  Or  if,  at  last,  he 
happily  finds  a  clue  to  lead  him  through  the 


labyrinth  wherein  so  many  have  been  lost, 
he  will  acknowledge,  upon  a  review,  tha. 
from  what  he  remembers  to  have  read  (for 
perhaps,  the  greater  part  he  has  wholly  for- 
gotten) he  has  gained  little  more  than  a  dii* 
covery  of  what  mistakes,  uncertainty,  insig 
nificance,  acrimony,  and  presumption,  arc 
often  obtruded  on  the  world  under  the  dis- 
guise of  a  plausible  title-page. 

It  is  far  from  my  intention  to  depreciate 
the  value,  or  deny  the  usefulness  of  books, 
without  exception  :  a  few  well  chosen  trea- 
tises, carefully  perused,  and  thoroughly  di- 
gested, will  deserve  and  reward  our  pains ; 
but  a  multiplicity  of  reading  is  seldom  at- 
tended with  a  good  efTect.  Besides  the  con- 
fusion it  often  brings  upon  the  judgment  and 
memory,  it  occasions  a  vast  expense  of  time, 
indisposes  for  close  thinking,  and  keeps  us 
poor  in  the  midst  of  seeming  plenty,  by  re- 
ducing us  to  live  upon  a  foreign  supply,  in- 
stead of  labouring  to  improve  and  increase 
the  stock  of  our  own  reflections. 

Every  branch  of  knowledge  is  attended 
with  this  inconvenience ;  but  it  is  in  no  one 
more  sensibly  felt  than  when  the  inquiry  is 
directed  to  the  subject  of  religion.  Perhaps 
no  country  has  abounded  so  much  with  re- 
ligious books  as  our  own  ;  many  of  them  are 
truly  excellent ;  but  a  very  great  number  of 
those  which  are  usually  more  obvious  to  be 
met  with,  as  they  stand  recommended  by 
great  names,  and  the  general  taste  of  the 
public,  are  more  likely  to  mislead  an  inqui- 
rer, than  to  direct  him  into  the  paths  of  true 
peace  and  wisdom. 

And  even  in  those  books  which  are  in  the 
main  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God,  there  is 
often  so  great  a  mixture  of  human  infirmity, 
so  much  of  the  spirit  of  controversy  and 
party,  such  manifest  defects  in  some,  and  a) 
many  unwarrantable  additions  to  the  simple 
truth  of  the  gospel  in  others,  that,  unless  a 
person's  judgment  is  already  formed,  or  he 
has  a  prudent  friend  to  direct  his  choice,  he 
will  probably  be  led  into  error  or  prejudice 
before  he  is  aware,  by  his  attachment  to  a 
favourite  author. 

Allowing,  therefore,  the  advantage  of  a  dis- 
creet and  seasonable  use  of  human  writing 
I  would  point  out  a  still  more  excellent  waj 
for  the  acquisition  of  true  knowledge  :  am( 
thod,  which,  if  wholly  neglected,  the  utmc 
diligence  in  the  use  of  every  other  meana 
will  prove  ineftectual ;  but  which,  if  faithful- 
ly pursued  in  an  humble  dependence  upoi 
the  divine  blessing,  will  not  only  of  itsel 
lead  us  by  the  straightest  path  to  wisdor 
but  will  also  give  a  double  efficacy  to  evei 
subordinate  assistance. 

If  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  the  term 
in  a  metaphorical  sense,  I  may  say,  that  tl 
most  high  God,  in  condescension  to  the  weak-' 
nessof  our  faculties,  the  brevity  of  our  lives, 
and  our  many  avocations,  has  comprised  all 


J 


n*iT  XV.] 

•^c  knowltvljro  condiicivo  to  our  nnl  huppi- 
n'*ss  in  lour  co!npri'Iit'nsiv(!  volumcH.  TIk^ 
.  first,  which  iniy  ho  (•onsi(h'r(»(l  a^  the  text, 
«i3  cho:ip,  jKirtahlr,  niul  com p<Mui ions,  so  th:it 
hardly  iiny  person  iti  our  favoured  land,  who 
is  apj)rizod  of  its  worth,  need  h(«  without  it ; 
and  tlio  other  throe,  which  aro  tho  host  and 
fullest  cominontarios  upon  this,  aro  always 
at  hand  for  our  p.Tusjil,  and  pressing  ujkhi 
our  attention  iji  every  place  and  circumstajicc 
of  our  lives. 

It  will  bo  easily  apprehended,  that,  by  the 
first  b(K)k,  or  volume,  I  mean  that  perfect 
and  infallible  system  of  truth,  tho  Bible. 
The  internal  characters  of  this  book,  arisinrr 
from  its  comprehensiveness,  simplicity,  ma- 
jesty, and  authority,  sufficiently  prove  to 
every  enlii]rhtened  mind,  that  it  is  given  by 
inspiration  of  God.  They  who  are  competent 
juJg-es  of  this  evidence,  are  no  more  disturb- 
ed by  the  sugtrestions  of  some  men  reputed 
wise,  that  it  is  of  human  composition,  than 
if  they  were  told  that  men  had  invented  the 
sun,  and  placed  it  in  the  firmament.  Its  ful- 
ness speaks  its  author.  No  case  has  yet 
occurred,  or  ever  will,  for  which  there  is  not 
a  sufficient  provision  made  in  this  invaluable 
treasury.  Here  we  may  seek  (and  we  shall 
not  seek  in  vain)  wherewith  to  combat  and 
vanquish  every  error,  to  illustrate  and  con- 
firm every  spiritual  truth.  Here  are  pro- 
mises suited  to  every  want,  directions  adapted 
to  every  doubt  that  can  possibly  arise.  Here 
is  milk  for  babes,  meat  for  strong-  men,  medi- 
cines for  the  wounded,  refreshment  for  the 
weary.  The  general  history  of  al  nations 
and  ages,  and  the  particular  experience  of 
each  private  believer,  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  time,  are  wonderfully  comprised  in 
this  single  volume ;  so  that  whoever  reads 
and  improves  it  aright,  may  discover  his  state, 
his  progress,  his  temptations,  his  danger,  and 
his  duty,  as  distinctly  and  minutely  marked 
out,  as  if  the  whole  had  been  written  for  him 
alone.  In  this  respect,  as  well  as  in  many 
others,  great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness. 

The  simplicity,  as  well  as  the  subject-mat- 
ter of  the  Bible,  evinces  its  divine  original. 
Though  it  has  depths  sufficient  to  embarrass 
and  confound  the  proudest  efforts  of  unsanc- 
tified  reason,  it  does  not,  as  to  its  general  im- 
port, require  an  elevated  genius  to  under- 
stand it,  but  is  equally  addressed  to  the  level 
of  every  capacity.  As  its  contents  are  of 
universal  concernment,  they  are  proposed  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  engage  and  satisfy  the 
inquiries  of  all ;  and  the  learned,  with  re- 
spect to  their  own  personal  interest,  have  no 
advantage  above  the  ignorant.  Tliat  it  is  in 
fact  road  by  many  who  receive  no  instruction 
or  benefit  from  it,  is  wholly  owing  to  their  in- 
attention or  vanity.  This  event  may  rather 
excite  grief  than  wonder.  The  Bible  teaches 
us  to  expect  it.  It  ibrewarns  us  that  the  na- 
■^lUTdl  man  cannot  receive  the  things  of  God, 


ON  A  CHRISTIAN  LIBRARY. 


145 


can  neither  understand  nor  approve  thoin. 
it  |H)ints  out  to  us  the  necessity  of  :i  h<*avon- 
ly  teacher,  tho  Holy  Sj)irit,  whohim  iiroiinHOil 
to  gui(l(?  those  who  seek  him  by  prayer,  into 
all  necessary  truth.  They  who  iin[)l()r»;  hi.i 
assistance,  tind  the  seals  opened,  tho  vail 
taken  away,  and  the  way  of  salvation  inudo 
plain  before  them. 

The  language  of  the  Bible  is  likewise 
clothed  with  inimitable  majo.sty  and  author- 
ity. God  speaks  in  it,  and  reveals  the  glory 
of  his  perfections,  his  sovereignty,  hoi  mess, 
justice,  goodness,  and  grace,  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  himself,  though,  at  the  same  time, 
admirably  adapted  to  our  weakness.  Tlie 
most  laboured  efforts  of  human  genius  are 
flat  and  languid,  in  comparison  of  those  parts 
of  the  Bible  which  are  designed  to  give  us 
due  apprehension  of  the  God  with  whom  wo 
have  to  do.  \Vhere  shall  we  find  such  in- 
stances of  the  true  sublime,  the  great,  the 
marvellous,  the  beautiful,  the  pathetic,  as  in 
the  holy  scriptures  !  Again,  the  eflects  which 
it  performs  demonstrate  it  to  be  the  word 
of  God.  With  a  powerful  and  penetrating 
energy,  it  alarms  and  pierces  the  conscience, 
discovers  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the 
heart,  convinces  the  most  obstinate,  and 
makes  the  most  careless  tremble.  With 
equal  authority  and  efficacy,  it  speaks  peace 
to  the  troubled  mind,  heals  the  wounded 
spirit,  and  can  unpart  a  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory,  in  tJie  midst  of  the  deepest 
distress.  It  teaches,  persuades,  comforts,  and 
reproves  with  an  authority  that  can  neither 
be  disputed  nor  evaded ;  and  often  communi- 
cates more  light,  motives,  and  influence,  by 
a  single  sentence,  to  a  plain  unlettered  be- 
liever, than  he  could  derive  from  ail  the 
voluminous  commentaries  of  the  learned. 
In  a  word,  it  answers  the  character  the  apos- 
tle gives  of  it:  "  It  is  able  to  make  us  wise 
unto  salvation  ;  it  is  completely  and  alone 
sufficient  to  make  the  man  of  God  perfect, 
thoroughly  furnished  for  every  good  work." 
The  doctrines,  histories,  prophecies,  pro- 
mises, precepts,  exhortations,  examples,  and 
warnings,  contained  in  the  Bible,  form  a  per- 
fect WHOLE,  a  complete  summary  of  the  will 
of  God  concerning  us,  in  which  nothing  is 
wanting,  nothing  is  superfluous. 

The  second  volume  which  deserves  our 
study  is  the  book  of  Creation.  "  The  hea- 
vens declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  fir- 
mament showeth  his  handy  work  ;"  nor  can 
we  cast  our  eyes  any  where,  without  meet- 
ing innumerable  proofs  of  his  wisdom,  power, 
goodness,  and  presence.  God  is  revealed 
in  the  least,  as  well  as  in  the  greatest  of  his 
works.  The  sun  and  the  glow-worm,  the 
fabric  of  the  universe,  and  eac!i  single  blade 
of  grass,  are  equally  the  eltects  of  divine 
power.  The  lines  oi"  this  bock,  though  very- 
beautiful  and  expressive  in  themselves,  are 
not  immediately  legible  by  fallen  man.  The 


146 


ON  A  CHRISTIAN  LIBRARY. 


works  of  creation  may  be  compared  to  a  fair 
character  in  cypher,  of  which  the  Bible  is 
tlie  key:  and  without  this  key  they  cannot 
be  understooJ.  Tiiis  book  was  always  open 
to  the  Heathens ;  but  they  could  not  read  it, 
nor  discern  the  proofs  of  his  eternal  power 
and  godhead  which  it  aflbrds.  "  They  became 
vain  in  their  own  imatrinations,  and  wor- 
shipped the  creature  more  than  the  Creator." 
The  case  is  mucJi  the  same  at  this  day  wdth 
many  reputed  wise,  whose  hearts  are  not 
subjected  to  the  authority  of  the  Bible.'  The 
study  of  the  works  of  God,  independent  of 
his  word,  though  dignified  with  the  name  of 
philosophy,  is  no  better  than  an  elaborate 
trifling  and  waste  of  time.  It  is  to  be  feared 
none  are  more  remote  from  the  true  know- 
ledge of  God,  than  many  of  those  who  value 
themselves  most  upon  their  supposed  know- 
ledge of  his  creatures.  They  may  speak  in 
general  terms  of  his  wisdom ;  but  they  live 
without  him  in  the  world ;  and  their  philo- 
sophy cannot  teach  them  either  to  love,  or 
serve,  to  fear,  or  trust  him.  They  who  know 
God  in  his  word,  may  find  both  pleasure  and 
profit  in  tracing  his  wisdom  in  his  works,  if 
their  inquiries  are  kept  within  due  bounds, 
and  in  a  proper  subservience  to  things  of 
greater  importance ;  but  they  are  compara- 
tively few  who  have  leisure,  capacity,  or 
opportunity,  for  these  inquiries.  But  the 
book  of  creation  is  designed  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  all  believers.  If  they  are  not  qualified 
to  be  astronomers  or  anatomists,  yet,  from  a 
view  of  the  heavens,  the  work  of"  God's  firi- 
gers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which  he  hath 
created,  they  learn  to  conceive  of  his  conde- 
scension, power,  and  faithfulness.  Though 
they  are  unacquainted  with  the  theory  of 
light  and  colours,  they  can  see  in  the  rain- 
bow a  token  of  God's  covenant-love.  Per- 
haps they  have  no  idea  of  the  magnitude  or 
distance  of  the  sun ;  but  it  reminds  them  of 
Jesus  the  Sun  of  righteousness,  the  source 
of  light  and  life  to  their  souls.  The  Lord  has 
established  a  wonderful  analogy  between  the 
natural  and  the  spiritual  world.  This  is  a 
secret  only  known  to  them  that  fear  him ;  but 
they  contemplate  it  with  pleasure ;  and  al- 
most every  object  they  see,  when  they  are 
in  the  right  frame  of  mind,  either  leads  their 
thoughts  to  Jesus,  or  tends  to  illustrate  some 
spiritual  truth  or  promise.  This  is  the  best 
method  of  studyin<^  the  book  of  Nature,  and 
for  this  purpose  it  is  always  open  and  plain 
to  those  who  love  the  Bible,  so  that  he  who 
runs  may  read. 

The  book  of  Providence  is  the  third  volume, 
by  which  those  who  fear  the  1  .ord  are  instruc- 
ted. This  likewise  is  inextricable  and  unin- 
telligible to  the  wisest  of  men  who  arc  not 
governed  by  the  word  of  God.  But  when 
the  principles  of  scripture  are  admitted  and 
understood,  they  throw  a  pleasing  light  upon  . 
tlie  study  of  divine  providence,  and  at  the , 


[let.  xr. 


same  time,  are  confirmed  and  illustrated  by 
it.  What  we  read  in  the  Bible  of  the  £Ove- 
reignty,  wisdom,  power,  omniscience,  and 
omnipresence  of  God,  of  his  overruling  all 
events  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  coun- 
sels, and  the  manifestation  of  his  glory,  of 
the  care  he  maintains  of  his  church  and  peo- 
ple, and  of  his  attention  to  their  prayers,  is 
exemplified  by  the  history  of  nations  and 
families,  and  the  daily  occurrences  of  private 
life.  The  believer  receives  hourly  and  in- 
dubitable proofs  that  the  Lord  reigns  ;  that 
verily  there  is  a  God  that  judges  in  the  earth. 
Hence  arises  a  solid  confidence :  he  sees  that 
his  concerns  are  in  safe  hands ;  and  he  needs 
not  be  afraid  of  evil  tidings.  His  heart  is 
fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord ;  while  others  live 
at  an  uncertainty,  exposed  to  the  impressions 
of  every  new  appearance ;  and,  like  a  ship 
in  a  storm,  without  rudder  or  pilot,  abandon- 
ed to  the  power  of  the  winds  and  waves.  In 
the  history  of  Joseph,  and  m  the  book  of 
Esther,  and  indeed  throughout  the  Bible, 
we  have  specimens  of  the  wise  unerring 
providence  of  God ;  what  important  conse- 
quences depend,  under  his  management,  upon 
the  smallest  events;  and  with  what  certainty 
seeming  contingencies  are  directed  to  the 
issue  which  he  has  appointed.  By  these  au- 
thentic specimens  we  learn  to  judge  of  the 
whole;  and  with  still  greater  advantage  by  the 
light  of  the  New  Testament,  which  shows 
us,  that  the  administration  of  all  power  in 
heaven  and  earth  is  in  the  hands  of  Jesus. 
The  government  is  upon  his  shoulders.  The 
King  of  saints  is  King  of  nations.  King  of 
kings,  and  Lord  of  lords.  Not  a  sparrow 
falls  to  the  ground,  nor  a  hair  from  our  heads, 
without  his  cognizance.  And  though  his 
ways  are  higher  than  our  ways,  and  his 
thoughts  than  our  thoughts;  though  his 
agency  is  veiled  from  the  eye  of  sense  by 
the  intervention  of  second  causes,  yet  faith 
perceives,  acknowledges,  admires,  and  trusts 
his  management.  This  study,  like  the  for- 
mer, does  not  require  superior  natural  abili- 
ties, but  is  obvious  to  the  weakest  and  mean- 
est of  his  people,  so  far  as  their  own  duty 
and  peace  are  concerned. 

The  fourth  volume  is  the  book  of  the  Heart,, 
or  of  Human  Nature,  comprehending  the 
experience  of  what  passes  within  our  own 
breasts,  and  the  observations  we  make  upon 
the  principles  and  conduct  of  others,  com- 
pared with  what  we  read  in  the  word  of  God. 
The  heart  of  man  is  deep;  but  all  its  princi- 
ples and  workings  in  every  possible  situation,^ 
and  the  various  manners  in  which  it  is  aticct- 
ed  by  sin,  by  Satan,  by  worldly  objects,  and 
by  grace,  in  solitude  and  in  company,  in  pros- 
perity and  in  affliction,  are  disclosed  and  un- 
folded in  the  scriptures.  Many  who  are  proud 
of  tlieir  knowledge  of  what  they  may  be  safe- 
ly ignorant  of,  are  utter  strangers  to  them- 
selves. Having  no  acquaintance  with  the  scr'.p^ 


LET.  XVI.] 


ON  TIIR  INEFFICACY  OP  OUR  KNOVVLKDCR 


147 


turos  thoy  Imvo  ixMlher  skill  iu>r  iiiclinnlion  to 
(X)k  into  their  own  lu-arts,  nor  uny  fortain 
criterion  when^by  to  jiul^e  ot'llio  oonduct  of 
}iuin:iii  litV.  Hill  the  Hihh«  teaches  us  to  read 
this  mysterious  book  also;  shows  us  the 
source,  nature,  and  trnd«Micy  of  our  hopes, 
fears,  desires,  pursuits,  and  perplexities;  the 
reasons  why  we  cannot  be  iiappy  in  our- 
selves, and  the  vanity  ajid  insulliciency  of 
every  thin;;  around  us  to  lielp  us.  The  rest 
and  happiness  projx)sed  in  the  (]fospel,  is  like- 
wise found  to  be  exactly  suitable  to  the  de- 
sires and  necessities  of  the  awakened  heart; 
and  the  conduct  of  those  who  rejtn-t  this  sal- 
vation as  well  as  the  jrracious  etl'ects  produ- 
ced in  those  who  receive  it,  prove  to  a  de- 
monstration, that  t)ie  word  of  God  is  indeed 
a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and  intents  of 
the  heart. 

My  limits  will  admit  but  of  a  few  hints 
upon  these  extensive  subjects.  I  shall  only 
observe  that  whoever  is  well  read  in  these 
four  books,  is  a  wise  person,  how  little  soever 
he  may  know  of  what  the  men  of  the  world 
call  science.  On  the  other  hand,  thounh  a 
man  should  be  master  of  the  whole  circle 
of  classical,  polite,  and  philosophical  know- 
ledge, if  he  has  no  taste  for  the  Bible,  and 
has  no  ability  to  apply  it  to  the  works  of 
creation  and  providence,  and  his  own  expe- 
rience, he  knows  nothing  yet  as  he  ougiit 
to  knosv.  I  have  pointed  out  a  treasure  of 
more  worth  than  all  the  volumes  in  the  Vati- 
can.— I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  XVI. 

On  the  Incfficacy  of  our  Knowledge. 

DE\R  SIR, — To  be  enabled  to  form  a  clear, 
consistent,  and  comprehensive  judgment  of 
the  truths  revealed  in  the  scriptures,  is  a 
great  privilege :  but  they  who  possess  it  are 
exposed  to  the  temptation  of  thinking  too 
highly  of  themselves,  and  too  meanly  of 
others,  especially  of  those  who  not  only  re- 
fuse to  adopt  their  sentiments,  but  venture 
to  oppose  them.  We  see  few  controversial 
writings,  however  excellent  in  other  respects, 
but  are  tinctured  with  this  spirit  of  self-su- 
periority ;  and  they  who  are  not  called  to  this 
service,  if  they  are  attentive  to  what  passes 
in  their  hearts,  may  feel  it  working  within 
them,  upon  a  thousand  occasions;  though,  so 
far  as  it  prevails,  it  brings  forcibly  home  to 
ourselves  the  charge  of  ignorance  and  in- 
consistence, which  we  are  so  ready  to  fix 
upon  our  opponents.  I  know  nothing  as  a 
means  more  likely  to  correct  this  evil,  than 
a  serious  consideration  of  the  amazing  differ- 
ence between  our  acquired  judgment,  and 
our  actual  experience ;  or,  in  other  w'ords, 
how  little  influence  our  knowledge  and  judg- 


ment have  u|Hni  our  own  conduct.  Tliij 
may  confirm  to  us  the  truth  and  i)roprii'ty  of 
the  aiKxstle's  observation,  "If  any  man  think 
that  he  knowcth  any  thing,  he  knowelh  ncv 
thing  yet  an  lu;  ought  to  know."  Not  that 
we  arc  bomul  to  be  inscnsil)le  that  the  Lord 
has  tiuight  us  what  we  were  once  iy:norant 
of;  nor  is  it  possible  that  we  Khould  b'?  w); 
but,  because,  if  we  estimate;  our  knowledge 
by  its  efVects,  and  value  it  no  farther  than  it 
is  experimental  and  operative  (whicli  is  the 
proper  standard  whereby  to  try  it,)  we  i-hall 
find  it  so  faint  and  feeble  as  hardly  to  de- 
serve the  name. 

How  linnly,  for  instance,  arc  we  persuaded, 
in  our  judgments,  that  God  is  omnipresent 
Great  as  the  difficulties  may  hv.  which  attend 
our  conceptions  of  this  point,  the  truth  itself 
is  controverted  by  few.  It  is  generally  ac- 
knowledged by  unawakened  persons;  and,  I 
may  add,  too  frequently  known  e\'en  by  be- 
lievers, as  if  they  knew  it  not.  If  the  eyes 
of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place,  how  strong  a 
guard  should  this  thought  be  upon  the  con- 
duct of  those  who  profess  to  fear  him  I  We 
know  how  we  arc  often  affected  when  in  the 
presence  of  a  fellow-worm  ;  if  he  is  one  on 
whom  we  depend,  or  who  is  considerably  our 
superior  in  life,  how  careful  are  we  to  com- 
pose our  behaviour,  and  to  avoid  whatever 
might  be  deemed  improper  or  offensive  !  Is 
it  not  strange,  that  those  who  have  taken 
their  ideas  of  the  divine  majesty,  holiness, 
and  purity  from  the  scriptures,  and  are  not 
wholly  insensible  of  their  inexpressible  obli- 
gations to  regulate  all  they  say  or  do  by  his 
precepts,  should,  upon  many  occasions,  be 
betrayed  into  improprieties  of  behaviour, 
from  which  the  presence  of  a  nobleman,  or 
a  prince,  would  have  effectually  restrained 
them,  yea,  sometimes,  perhaps,  even  the  pre- 
sence of  a  child  1  Even  in  the  exercise  of 
prayer,  by  which  we  profess  to  draw  near 
the  Lord,  the  consideration  that  his  eye  is 
upon  us,  has  little  power  to  engage  our  at- 
tention, or  prevent  our  thoughts  from  wan- 
dering, like  the  fool's  eyes,  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  What  should  we  think  of  a  person, 
who,  being  admitted  into  the  king's  presence 
upon  business  of  the  greatest  importance, 
should  break  off  in  the  midst  of  liis  address, 
to  pursue  a  butterfly  ]  Could  such  an  in- 
stance of  weakness  be  met  with,  it  would 
be  but  a  faint  emblem  of  the  inconsistencies 
which  they  wdio  are  acquainted  with  their 
own  hearts,  can  often  charge  themselves 
with  in  prayer.  They  are  not  wholly  igno- 
rant in  what  a  frame  of  spirit  becomes  a 
needy,  dependent  s.nner  to  approach  that 
God,  before  whom  the  angels  are  represent- 
ed as  veiling  their  faces ;  yet,  in  defiance  of 
their  better  judgment,  their  attention  is  di- 
verted from  him  with  whom  they  have  to  do, 
to  the  merest  trifles ;  they  are  not  able  to 
realize  that  presence  with  which  they  be- 


148 


ON  THE  INEFFICACY  OF  OUR  KNOWIJiDGE.  [lct.  xvl 


lieve  themselves  to  be  surrounded,  but  speak 
as  if  they  were  speaking  to  the  air.  Further, 
if  our  sonsc  that  God  is  always  pre:^ent,  was 
in  any  good  measure  answerable  to  the  con- 
viction of  our  judgment,  would  it  not  be  an 
effectual  preservative  from  the  many  impor- 
tunate, though  groundless  fears,  with  which 
we  are  hanisscd !  He  says,  "  Fear  not,  I  am 
with  thee:"  he  promises  to  be  a  shield  and 
a  guard  to  those  who  put  their  trust  in  him ; 
yet  though  wo  protoss  to  believe  his  word, 
and  to  hope  that  he  is  our  protector,  we  sel- 
dom tiiink  ourselves  safe,  even  in  the  path 
of  duty,  a  moment  longer  tlian  danger  is 
kept  out  of  our  view.  Little  reason  have 
we  to  value  ourselves  upon  our  knowledge 
of  tliis  indisputable  truth,  when  it  lias  no 
more  effective  and  habitual  influence  upon 
our  conduct. 

The  doctrine  of  God's  sovereignty  like- 
wise, though  not  so  generally  owned  as  the 
former,  is  no  less  fully  assented  to  by  those 
who  are  called  Calvinists.  We  zealously 
contend  for  this  point  in  our  debates  with 
the  Arminians,  and  are  ready  to  wonder  that 
any  should  be  hardy  enough  to  dispute  the 
Creator's  right  to  do  what  he  will  with  his 
own.  While  we  are  only  engaged  in  de- 
fence of  the  election  of  grace,  and  have  a 
comfortable  hope  that  we  are  ourselves  of 
that  number,  we  seem  so  convinced,  by  the 
arguments  scripture  affords  us  in  support  of 
this  truth,  that  we  can  hardly  forbear  charg- 
ing our  adversaries  with  perverse  obstinacy 
and  pride  for  opposing  it.  Undoubtedly  the 
ground  of  this  opposition  lies  in  the  pride  of 
the  human  heart;  but  this  evil  principle  is 
not  confined  to  any  party ;  and  occasions  fre- 
quently arise,  when  they  who  contend  for 
the  divine  sovereignty  are  little  more  prac- 
tically influenced  by  it  than  their  oppo- 
nents. This  humiliating  doctrine  concludes 
as  strongly  for  submission  to  the  will  of  God, 
under  every  circumstance  of  life,  as  it  dogs  for 
our  acquiescing  in  his  purpose  to  have  mercy 
upon  whom  he  will  have  mercy.  But,  alas ! 
how  often  do  we  find  ourselves  utterly  un- 
able to  apply  it,  so  as  to  reconcile  our  spirits 
to  those  afllictions  which  he  is  pleased  to  al- 
lot us.  So  far  as  we  are  enabled  to  say, 
when  we  are  exercised  with  poverty,  or 
heavy  losses  or  crosses,  "  I  was  dumb,  and 
opened  not  my  mouth,  because  thou  didst  it,*' 
so  far,  and  no  farther,  are  we  truly  con- 
vinced that  God  has  a  sovereign  right  to  dis- 
pose of  us,  and  all  our  concernments,  as  he 
pleases.  How  often,  and  how  justly,  at  such 
seasons,  might  the  arnfument  we  offer  to 
others,  as  sufficient  to  silent  all  their  objec- 
tions, be  retorted  upon  ourselves:  "Nay,  but 
who  art  thou,  O  man,  wlio  repliest  against 
God  I  Sliall  the  thing  formed  say  unto  him 
that  formed  it.  Why  hast  thou  made  me 
thusl" — a  plain  proof  that  our  knowledge  is 
more  notional  than  e.xperimental.     Wiiat  an 


inconsistence,  that  while  we  thhik  God  is  just 
and  righteous  in  withholding  from  others  the 
things  wliich  pertain  to  their  everlasting 
peace,  we  should  find  it  so  hard  to  submit  to 
his  dispensations  to  ourselves  in  matters  of 
unspeakably  less  importance ! 

But  the  Lord's  appointments,  to  those  who 
fear  him,  are  not  only  sovereign,  but  wise 
and  gracious.  He  has  connected  their  good 
with  his  own  glory,  and  is  engaged,  by  pro- 
mise, to  make  all  things  work  Together  for 
their  advantage.  He  chooses  for  his  people 
better  than  tiiey  could  choose  for  themselves. 
If  they  are  in  heaviness,  there  is  a  need-be 
for  it,  and  he  witldiolds  nothing  from  them 
but  what,  upon  the  whole,  it  is  better  they 
should  be  without.  Thus  the  scriptures  teach, 
and  thus  we  profess  to  believe.  Furnished 
with  these  principles,  we  are  at  no  loss  to 
suggest  motives  of  patience  and  consolation 
to  our  brethren  that  are  afflicted.  We  can 
assure  them,  without  hesitation,  that  if  thej 
are  interested  in  the  promises,  their  concerns 
are  in  safe  hands ;  that  the  things  which  at 
present  are  not  joyous,  but  grievous,  shall  in 
due  season  yield  the  peaceful  fruits  of  righ- 
teousness, and  that  their  trials  are  ascertainlj 
mercies  as  their  comforts.  We  can  prove  to 
them,  from  the  history  of  Joseph,  David,  Job, 
and  other  instances  recorded  in  scripture, 
that,  notwithstanding  any  present  dark  ap- 
pearances, it  shall  certainly  be  well  w'ith 
the  righteous;  that  God  can  and  will  make 
crooked  things  straight;  and  that  he  often 
produces  the  greatest  good  from  those  events 
which  we  are  apt  to  look  upon  as  evil.  From 
hence  we  can  infer,  not  only  the  sinfulness, 
but  the  folly  of  finding  fault  with  any  of  his 
dispensations.  We  can  tell  them,  that  at 
the  worst,  the  sufferings  of  the  present  life 
are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glorjr 
that  shall  be  revealed ;  and  that,  therefore, 
under  the  greatest  pressures,  they  should  so 
weep  as  those  who  expect,  in  a  little  time,  to 
have  all  their  tears  wiped  away.  But  when 
the  case  is  our  own,  when  we  are  troubled 
on  every  side,  or  touched  in  the  tenderest 
part,  how  difficult  is  it  to  feel  the  force  of 
these  reasonings,  though  we  know  they  are 
true  to  a  demonstration  ]  Then,  unless  we 
are  endued  with  fresh  strength  from  on  high, 
we  are  as  liable  to  complain  and  despond,  aa 
if  we  thought  our  afflictions  sprung  out  of  the 
ground,  and  that  the  Lord  had  forgotten  to 
be  gracious. 

1  might  proceed  to  show  the  difference  be- 
tween our  judgment,  when  most  enlightened, 
and  our  actual  experience  with  respect  to 
every  spiritual  truth.  We  know  there  is  no 
proportion  between  time  and  eternity,  be- 
twe3n  God  and  the  creature,  the  favour  of 
the  Lord  and  t!ie  tavc^r  or  the  frowns  of 
men;  and  yet  ot\en,  when  these  thmgs  are 
brou.Tht  into  close  competition,  we  are  jcrcdy 
put  to  it  to  keep  steadfast  in  tlie  patli  of  cuty ; 


LTT.  XVII.] 


ON  A  BELIKVER'S  FRAMES. 


149 


my,  wit!i;)!it  now  PuppliosofjjniCv'^,  wo  shouhl 
ccTliirjIy  t:nl  in  the  tiin"'  of  trial,  an  1  our 
kno.vlojjrp  would  have  no  other  oHbct  than 
to  rendor  our  ifuilt  tnorc  inivxeiLsablc.  Wo 
scorn  to  be  0:3  sure  that  wo  are  weak,  sinful, 
fiJliblo  creature?,  as  wo  ore  that  we  exist; 
an  J  yet  wo  are  prono  to  act  as  if  wc  were 
wis?  and  jjool.  In  a  won!,  wo  nnnot  deny 
that  a  groat  part  of  our  knowlod^re  is,  as  I 
have  described  it,  like  the  lij,''ht  of  the  moon, 
destitute  of  heat  and  influence ;  and  yet  we 
can  hardly  help  thinkinjj  of  ourselves  too 
hin:hly  upon  the  account  of  it 

May  we  not  say  with  the  psalmist,  "  Lord, 
whit  is  man  I"  yea,  what  an  eniijnia,  what  a 
poor  inconsistent  creature,  is  a  believer !  In 
one  view,  how  great  are  his  character  and 
privileores!  He  knows  the  Lord;  he  knows 
himself  His  understanding  is  enlightened 
to  apprehend  and  contemplate  the  great  mys- 
teries of  the  gospel.  He  has  just  ideas  of  the 
evil  of  sin,  the  vanity  of  the  world,  the  beau- 
ties of  holiness,  and  the  nature  of  true  hap- 
piness. He  was  once  darkness,  but  now  he 
is  light  in  the  Lord.  He  has  access  to  God 
by  Jesus  Christ,  to  whom  he  is  united,  and 
in  whom  he  lives  by  faith.  While  the  prin- 
ciples he  has  received  are  enlivened  by  the 
agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  he  can  do  all 
things.  He  is  humble,  gentle,  patient,  watch- 
ful, faithful.  He  rejoices  in  afflictions,  tri- 
umphs over  temptation,  lives  upon  the  fore- 
tastes of  eternal  glory,  and  counts  not  his 
life  dear,  so  he  may  glorify  God  his  Saviour, 
and  finish  his  course  with  joy.  But  his 
strength  is  not  his  own  ;  he  is  absolutely  de- 
pendent, and  is  still  encompassed  with  in- 
firmities, and  burdened  with  a  depraved  na- 
ture. If  the  Lord  withdraws  his  power,  he 
becomes  weak  as  another  man,  and  drops,  as 
a  stone  sinks  to  the  earth  by  its  own  weight. 
His  inherent  knowledge  may  be  compared 
to  the  windows  of  a  house,  which  can  trans- 
mit the  liglit,  but  cannot  retain  it.  Without 
renewed  and  continual  communication^  from 
the  Spirit  of  grace,  he  is  unable  to  withstand 
the  smallest  temptation,  to  endure  the  slight- 
est trial,  to  perform  the  least  service  in  a  due 
manner,  or  even  to  think  a  good  thought.  He 
knows  this,  and  yet  he  too  often  forgets  it. 
But  the  Lord  reminds  him  of  it  frequently, 
by  suspending  that  assistance,  without  which 
he  can  do  nothing.  Then  he  feels  what  he 
is,  and  is  easily  prevailed  upon  to  act  in  con- 
tradiction to  his  better  judgment.  Thus 
repeated  experience  of  his  own  weakness 
teaches  him,  by  degrees,  where  his  strength 
lies :  that  it  is  nof  in  any  thing  that  he  has 
already  attained,  or  can  call  his  own,  but  in 
the  grace,  power,  and  faithfulness  of  his  Sa- 
viour. He  learns  to  cease  from  his  own  un- 
derstanding, to  be  ashamed  of  Iiis  best  en- 
deavours, to  abhor  himself  in  dust  and  ashes, 
tnd  to  glory  only  in  the  Lord. 

From  hence  we  may  observe,  that  be- 


lievers who  have  mo5:t  knowlodgo,  aro  no., 
therefore,  nocohArily  tin-  n.f)-l  hpirituul. — 
Some  may,  and  (io,  walk  more  !iori(,urabljr 
and  more  comfortably  with  two  Lnlcntx,  than 
others  willi  five.  He  who  o.viK-rimrntally 
knows  liis  own  woaknots,  and  (l('j)cnda  bim- 
ply  upon  the  Lord,  will  surely  thrive,  though 
his  nc([uiro(l  attainments  and  abilities  may 
Im?  but  small ;  and  ho  who  has  the  greatest 
gitH  the  clearest  judgment,  and  the  most 
extensive  knowledge,  if  he  indulges  high 
thoughts  of  his  advantages,  is  in  imminent 
danger  of  mistaking  and  falling  at  every 
step;  for  the  Lord  will  sulTer  none  whom  he 
loves  to  boast  in  thenjselves.  He  will  guide 
the  meek  with  his  eye,  and  fill  the  hungry 
with  good  things ;  but  the  rich  he  sendeth 
empty  away.  It  is  an  invariable  maxim  in 
his  kingdom,  that  whosoever  exalteth  him- 
self shall  be  abased;  but  he  that  humbleth 
himself  shall  be  e.xalted. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  XVIL 

On  a  Believer's  Frames. 

DEAR  SIR, — You  ask  me,  in  your  letter, 
What  one  should  do  when  he  finds  himself 
always  still,  quiet,  and  stupid,  except  in  the 
pulpit;  when  he  is  made  useful  there,  but 
cannot  get  either  comtcrt  or  sorrow  out  of  it, 
or  but  very  rarely  !  You  describe  a  case 
which  my  own  experience  has  made  very 
familiar  to  me :  I  shall  therefore  take  the 
occasion  to  ofier  you  a  few  miscellaneous 
thoughts  upon  the  subject  of  a  believer's 
frames;  and  I  send  them  to  you,  not  by  post, 
but  from  the  press ;  because  I  apprehend  the 
exercise  you  speak  of  is  not  peculiar  to  you 
or  to  me,  but  is,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
the  burden  of  all  who  are  spiritually  minded, 
and  duly  attentive  to  what  passes  in  their 
own  hearts,  whether  they  are  in  the  ministry 
or  not. 

As  you  intimate  that  you  are,  in  the  main, 
favoured  with  liberty  and  usefulness  in  the 
pulpit,  give  me  leave  to  ask  you.  What  you 
would  do,  if  you  did  not  find  yourself  occa- 
sionally poor,  insufficient,  and,  as  you  ex- 
press it,  stupid,  at  other  times  ?  Are  you 
aware  of  what  might  be  the  possible,  the 
probable,  the  almost  certain  consequences,  if 
you  always  found  your  spirit  enlarged,  and 
your  frames  lively  and  comfortable  I  \\'ould 
you  not  be  in  great  danger  of  being  puffed 
up  with  spiritual  pride  ]  ~  \Yould  you  not  be 
less  sensible  of  your  absolute  dependence 
upon  the  power  of  Christ,  and  of  your  con- 
tinual need  of  liis  blood,  pardon,  and  inter- 
cession 1  Would  you  not  be  quite  at  a  loss 
to  speak  suitably  and  feelingly  to  the  case  of 
many  gracious  souls,  who  are  groaning  un- 
der those  effects  of  a  depraved  nature,  from 


150 


ON  A  BELIEVER'S  FRAAIES. 


which,  upon  that  supposition,  you  would  be 
exempted  ?  How  could  you  speak  properly 
upon  the  dcceitfulness  of  the  heart,  if  you 
did  nut  feel  the  deceitfulnessof  your  own  ;  or 
adapt  yourself  to  the  changing"  experiences 
tlirouirli  which  your  hearers  pass,  if  you  your- 
self were  always  alike  or  nearly  so  .'  Or  how 
could  you  spoak  pertinently  of  the  inward 
warfare,  the  contrary  principles  of  llesh  and 
«pirit  fighting  one  against  another,  if  your 
T^vn  spiritual  desires  were  always  vigorous 
*nd  successful,  and  met  with  little  opposition 
or  controul ? 

The  apostle  Paul,  though  favoured  with  a 
singular  eminency  in  grace,  felt  at  times  that 
no  liad  no  sufficiency  in  himself,  even  so 
much  as  to  think  a  good  thought ;  and  he  saw 
there  was  a  danger  of  his  being  exalted 
above  measure,  if  the  Lord  had  not  wisely 
and  graciously  tempered  his  dispensations  to 
prevent  it.  By  "  being  exalted  above  mea- 
sure," perhaps  there  may  be  a  reference,  not 
only  to  his  spirit,  lest  he  should  think  more 
highly  of  himself  than  he  ought,  but  likewise 
to  his  preaching,  lest,  not  having  the  same 
causes  of  complaint  and  humiliation  in  com- 
mon with  others,  he  should  shoot  over  the 
heads  of  his  hearers,  confine  himself  chiefly 
to  speak  of  such  comforts  and  privileges  as 
he  himself  enjoyed,  and  have  little  to  say  for 
tlie  refreshment  of  those  who  were  discour- 
aged and  cast  down  by  continual  conflict  with 
hidwelling  sin.  The  angel  who  appeared  to 
Cornelius,  did  not  preach  the  gospel  to  him, 
but  directed  him  to  send  for  Peter;  foj, 
though  the  glory  and  grace  of  the  Saviour 
peems  a  fitter  subject  for  an  angel's  powers, 
than  for  the  poor  stammering  tongues  of  sin- 
ful men,  yet,  an  angel  could  not  preach  ex- 
perimentally, nor  describe  the  warfare  be- 
tween grace  and  sin  from  his  own  feelings. 
And  if  we  could  suppose  a  minister  as  full 
of  comforts,  and  as  free  from  failings  as  an 
angel,  though  he  would  be  a  good  and  happy 
man,  I  cannot  conceive  that  he  would  be  a 
good  or  useful  preacher;  for  he  would  not 
know  how  to  sympathize  with  the  weak  and 
afflicted  of  the  flock,  or  to  comfort  them  mider 
their  diSiculties  with  the  consolations  where- 
with he  himself,  in  similar  circumstances, 
had  been  comforted  of  God.  It  belongs  to 
your  calling  of  God  as  a  minister,  that  you 
should  have  a  taste  of  the  various  spiritual 
trials  which  are  incident  to  the  Lord's  peo- 
ple, that  thereby  you  may  possess  the  tongue 
of  the  learned,  and  know  how  to  speak  a 
word  in  season  to  them  that  are  weary ;  and 
it  is  likewise  needful  to  keep  you  perpetu- 
ally attentive  to  that  important  admonition, 
'  VVithout  me  ye  can  do  nothing." 

Thus  much,  considermg  you  as  a  minister. 
But  we  may  extend  the  subject  so  as  to  make 
it  applicable  to  believers  in  general.  I  would 
observe,  therefore,  that  it  is  a  sign  of  a  sad 
declension,  if  one,  who  has  tasted  that  the 


[let.  xvn; 

Lord  is  gracious,  should  be  capable  of  being 
fully  satisfied  with  any  thing  short  of  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  which  is  better  than 
life.  A  resting  in  notions  of  gospel-truth,  or 
in  the  recollection  of  past  comforts,  witliout 
a  continual  thirst  for  fresh  communications 
from  the  fountain  of  life,  is,  I  am  afraid,  the 
canker  which  eats  away  the  beauty  and  fruit- 
fuhiess  of  many  professors  in  tlie  present  day ; 
and  which,  if  it  does  not  prove  them  to  be 
absolutely  dead,  is,  at  least,  a  sufficient  evi- 
dence that  they  are  lamentably  sick.  But, 
if  we  are  conscious  of  the  desire,  if  we  seek  it 
carefully  in  the  use  of  all  appointed  means, 
if  we  willingly  allow  ourselves  in  nothing 
which  has  a  known  tendency  to  grieve  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  to  damp  our  sense  of 
divine  things ;  then,  if  the  lx)rd  is  pleased  to 
keep  us  short  of  those  comforts  which  he  haa 
taught  us  to  prize,  and,  instead  of  lively 
sensations  of  joy  and  praise,  we  feel  a  lan- 
guor and  deadness  of  spirit,  provided  we  do 
indeed  feel  it,  and  are  humbled  for  it,  we 
have  no  need  to  give  way  to  despondency  or 
excessive  sorrow  ;  still  the  foundation  of  our 
hope,  and  the  ground  of  our  abiding  joys,  is 
the  same ;  and  the  heart  may  be  as  really 
alive  to  God,  and  grace  as  truly  in  exercise, 
when  we  walk  in  comparative  darkness  and 
see  little  light,  as  when  the  frame  of  our 
spirits  is  more  comfortable.  Neither  the 
reality  nor  the  measure  of  grace  can  be  pro- 
perly estimated  by  the  degree  of  our  sensible 
comforts.  The  great  question  is.  How  are 
we  practically  influenced  by  the  word  of  God 
as  the  ground  of  our  hope,  and  as  the  govern- 
ing rule  of  our  tempers  and  conversation  ? 
The  apostle  exhorts  believers  to  rejoice  in 
the  Lord  always.  He  well  knew  that  they 
were  exposed  to  trials  and  temptations,  and 
to  much  trouble,  from  an  evil  heart  of  unbe- 
lief; and  he  prevents  the  objections  we  might 
be  ready  to  make,  by  adding,  "  And  again,  I 
say,  rejoice  !"  As  if  he  had  said,  I  speak 
upon  mature  consideration ;  I  call  upon  you 
to  rejo'ice,  not  at  some  times  only,  but  at  all 
times ;  not  only  when  upon  tlie  mount,  but 
when  in  the  valley ;  not  only  when  you  con- 
quer, but  while  you  are  fighting ;  not  only 
when  the  Lord  shines  upon  you,  but  when 
he  seems  to  hide  his  face.  When  he  enables 
you  to  do  all  things,  you  are  no  better  in 
yourselves  than  you  were  before ;  and  wher 
you  feel  you  can  do  nothing,  you  are  no 
worse.  Your  experiences  will  vary ;  but  iiis 
love  and  promises  are  always  unchangeable. 
Though  our  desires  of  comfort,  and  what  we 
call  lively  frames,  cannot  be  too  importunate, 
while  they  are  regulated  by  a  due  submission 
to  his  will,  yet  they  may  be  inordinate  for 
want  of  such  submission.  Smful  principles 
may,  and  too  often  do,  mix  with  and  defile 
our  best  desires.  I  have  ofl:en  detected  the 
two  vile  abominations  self-will  and  self-righ- 
teousness, insinuating  themselves  into  thia 


UCT.  XVII.] 


ON  A  BKLIEVER'S  FRAMES. 


Iftl 


concern  ;  liko  Satan,  who  works  by  thoni, 
tiiry  can  t)ccasi()rmlly  assunio  llio  upjx'araiicc 
of  an  ansjol  of  liijlit.  I  huvt?  fi'lt  an  impa- 
tience in  niy  spirit,  utterly  unsuitable  to  my 
state  OS  a  sinner  and  a  betjijur,  and  to  my 
proti'ssion  of  yielding,'  myscMf  and  all  my  con- 
cerns to  the  Lord's  disjHisiil.  He  has  merci- 
fully convinced  me  lliat  I  labour  under  a 
complication  of  disorders,  summed  up  in  the 
word  sin ;  he  has  graciously  r(>vealed  him- 
self to  mo  as  the  infallible  Physician,  and 
has  enabled  me  to  commit  myself  to  iiim  as 
fcuch,  and  to  expect  my  cure  from  his  hand 
alone.  Yet  how  otlen,  instead  of  thankfully 
acccptinn^  his  prescriptions,  have  I  foolishly 
and  presumptuously  ventured  to  prescribe  to 
him,  and  to  point  out  how  I  would  iiavc  him 
deal  with  me  I  How  often  have  I  thou<Tht 
sonjething'  was  neccssiiry,  which  he  saw  best 
to  deny,  and  that  I  could  liave  done  better 
without  those  dispensations  which  his  wis- 
dom appointed  to  work  for  my  grood  !  He  is 
(lotl,  and  not  man,  or  else  he  would  have 
been  weary  of  mo,  and  left  me  to  my  own 
manif^ement  long  ago.  How  inconsistent! 
to  acknowledge  that  I  am  blind,  to  intreat 
him  to  lead  me,  and  yet  to  want  to  choose  my 
own  way,  in  the  same  breath.  I  have  limited 
the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  and  not  considered, 
that  he  magnifies  his  wisdom  and  grace  in 
working  by  contraries,  and  bringing  good  out 
of  seeming  evil.  It  has  cost  me  something 
to  bring  myself  to  confess  that  he  is  wiser 
than  I ;  but  I  trust,  through  his  blessing,  I 
!rive  not  suffered  wiiolly  in  vain.  My  sensi- 
ble comforts  have  not  been  great ;  the  proofs 
I  have  had  of  the  evils  of  my  sinful  nature, 
my  incapacity  and  aversion  to  good,  have 
neither  been  few  nor  small ;  but  by  these 
unpromising  means,  I  hope,  he  has  made  his 
grace  and  salvation  precious  to  my  soul,  and 
in  some  measure  weaned  me  from  leaning 
to  my  own  understanding. 

Again,  self-righteousness  has  had  a  consi- 
derable hand  in  dictating  many  of  my  desires 
for  an  increase  of  comfort  and  spiritual 
strength.  I  have  wanted  some  stock  of  my 
own.  I  have  bc'en  wearied  of  being  so  per- 
petually beholden  to  him,  and  necessitated  to 
come  to  him  always  in  the  same  strain,  as  a 
poor  miserable  sinner.  I  could  have  liked 
to  have  done  something  for  myself  in  com- 
mon, and  to  have  depended  upon  him  chiefly 
upon  extraordinary  occasions.  I  have  found, 
indeed,  that  I  could  do  nothing  without  his 
assistance,  nor  any  thing,  even  with  it,  but 
what  I  have  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  If  this 
had  only  humbled  me,  and  led  me  to  rejoice 
in  his  all-sufficiency,  it  would  have  been 
well.  But  it  has  often  had  a  different  effect, 
to  make  me  sullen,  angry,  and  discontented ; 
as  if  it  was  not  best  and  most  desirable,  that 
he  should  have  all  the  glory  of  his  own  \a  ork, 
and  I  should  have  nothing  to  boast  of,  but 
that  in  the  Lord  1  have  risrhteousnefs  and 


strength.  I  am  now  loaminff  to  glory  only 
in  my  infirnnties,  that  the  |X)Wrr  of  ('hri«t 
may  rest  u}K)n  me;  to  ho  content  to  b«?  no- 
thing, that  he  may  be  all  in  all.  But  1  find 
this  a  hard  h'so^JU  ;  and  wlurn  1  hcem  to  huvo 
made  some  proficiency,  a  hliyht  turn  ni  my 
spirit  throws  me  back,  and  I  have  to  begin 
all  again. 

Tliis  is  an  inseparable  connexion  between 
causes  and  effects.  There  can  be  no  effect 
without  a  cause,  no  active  cause  without  a 
proportionable  efiecL  Now  indwelling  sin 
is  an  active  cause;  and  therefore,  while  it 
remains  in  our  nature,  it  will  produce  effects 
according  to  its  strength.  Why  then  should 
I  be  surprised,  that  if  the  Lord  suspends  hia 
influence  for  a  moment,  in  that  moment  sin 
will  discover  itself!  Why  should  I  wonder 
that  I  can  feel  no  lively  exerci.>«c  of  grace, 
no  power  to  raise  my  heart  to  Cod  any  far- 
ther than  he  is  plea.«;ed  to  work  in  me 
mightily, — any  more  than  I  wonder  that  I 
do  not  find  fire  in  the  bottom  of  a  well,  or 
that  it  should  not  be  day  when  the  sun  is  with- 
drawn from  the  earth  .'  Humbled  I  ought  to 
be,  to  find  I  am  so  totally  depraved  ;  but  not 
discouraged,  since  Jesus  is  appointed  to  me 
of  God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctifica- 
tion,  and  redemption ;  and  since  I  find  that, 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  darkness  and  dead- 
ness,  he  keeps  alive  the  principle  of  grace* 
which  he  has  implanted  in  my  heart. 

As  to  Mr.  Rutherford's  expression  which 
you  mention,  that  "  there  is  no  temptation 
like  being  without  temptation  ;"  I  allow  it 
in  a  qualified  sense  ;  that  is,  it  is  the  better 
of  the  two,  to  suffer  from  Satan's  fiery  darts, 
than  to  be  lulled  asleep,  and  drawn  into  a 
careless  security,  by  his  more  subtile,  though 
less  perceptible  devices;  so  as  to  grow  indif- 
ferent to  the  means  of  grace,  and  sink  into  a 
worldly  spirit,  or,  like  the  church  of  Laodi- 
cea,  to  imagine  ourselves  rich,  and  increased 
in  goods,  and  that  we  have  need  of  nothing. 
But  I  am  persuaded  this  is  not  your  case ; 
the  deadness  you  complain  of,  and  which  ia 
a  burden  you  groan  under,  is  a  very  diflerent 
thing.  And  I  advise  you  to  be  cautious  how 
you  indulge  a  desire  to  be  exercised  with 
Satan's  temptations,  as  supposing  they  would 
be  conducive  to  make  you  more  spiritual, 
or  would,  of  course,  open  you  a  way  to  greater 
consolations.  If  you  have  sucli  a  desire,  I 
may  say  to  you,  in  the  Lord's  words,  "  Yet; 
know  not  what  you  ask."  He  who  kno 
our  weakness,  ar.d  the  power  of  our  adver 
sary,  has  graciously  directed  us  to  pray, 
that  we  enter  not  into  temptation.  Have 
you  considered  what  the  enemy  can  do,  if  he 
is  permitted  to  come  in  like  a  flood  ?  In  one 
hour  he  could  raise  such  a  storm,  as  would 
put  you  to  your  wit's  end.  He  could  bring 
such  a  dark  cloud  over  your  mind  as  would 
blot  out  all  remembrance  of  your  past  com- 
forts, or  at  least  prevent  you  from  deriving 


152 


ON  SOCIAL  PRAYER. 


[let.  xvni. 


the  least  support  from  tlicm.  He  coulJ  not 
only  tig-ht  agaiiisit  your  peace,  but  stiake 
the  very  IbunJations  of  your  hope,  and  bring 
you  to  queitioa,  not  only  your  interest  in  the 
promise;^  but  even  to  doubt  of  the  most  im- 
portant and  fundamental  truths  upon  wliich 
your  iiopes  have  been  built,  ^e  tliankful, 
tlierefure,  if  the  Lord  restrains  his  malice. 
A  young  sailor  is  often  impatient  of  a  short 
cairn ;  but  the  experienced  mariner,  who  has 
been  often  tossed  with  tempests,  and  upon 
the  point  of  perishing,  will  seldom  wish  for 
a  storm.  In  a  word,  let  us  patiently  wait 
upon  the  Lord,  and  be  content  to  tbilow  as 
he  leads,  and  he  will  surely  do  us  good. — I 
am,  <!i^,c. 


LETTER  XVIU. 

Thoughts  on  the  Exercise  of  Social  Prayer. 

SIR, — I  account  it  a  great  mercy,  that,  at 
this  time,  when  iniquity  so  generally  abounds, 
there  is  a  number,  I  hope  a  growing  number, 
whose  eyes  affect  their  hearts,  and  who  are 
stirred  up  to  unite  in  prayer  for  the  spreatl- 
ing  of  gospel-knowledge,  and  a  blessing  upon 
our  sinful  land.  Meetings  for  social  prayer 
lire  frequent  in  dilferent  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, and  among  various  denominations  of 
Christians.  As  the  Lord  has  promised,  that 
when  he  prepares  the  heart  to  pray,  he  will 
graciously  incline  his  ear  to  hear,  who  can. 
tell  but  he  may  yet  be  intrcated  for  us,  and 
avert  the  heavy  and  justly-deserved  judg- 
ments which  seem  to  hang  over  us  J 

It  is  much  to  be  desired,  that  our  hearts 
might  be  so  atrected  with  a  sense  of  divine 
things,  and  so  cloiely  engaged  when  we  are 
worshipping  God,  that  it  might  not  be  in  the 
power  of  little  circumstances  to  interrupt  and 
perplex  us,  and  to  make  us  think  the  service 
wearisome,  and  the  time  which  we  employ 
in  it  tedious.  But  as  your  infirmities  are 
many  and  great,  and  the  enemy  of  our  .souls 
is  watchful  to  discompose  us,  if  care  is  not 
taken  by  those  who  lead  in  social  prayer, 
the  exercise  w-hich  is  approved  by  the  jiulg- 
ment,  may  become  a  burden,  and  an  occasion 
of  sin.  Complaints  of  this  kind  are  frequent, 
and  might  perhaps  be  easily  rectified,  if  the 

f>ersons  chiefly  concerned  were  spoken  to  in 
ove.  But  as  they  are  usually  the  last  who 
hear  of  it,  it  may  perhaps  be  of  service  to  com- 
municate a  few  remarks  on  a  subject  of  such 
general  concern. 

Tiie  chief  fault  of  some  good  prayers  is, 
that  they  are  too  long;  not  tiiat  1  thmk  we 
should  pray  by  the  clock,  and  limit  ourselves 
precisely  to  a  certain  number  of  minutes; 
but  it  is  the  better  of  the  two,  that  the  hear- 
ers should  wish  the  prayer  had  been  longer, 
than  spend  half  or  a  considerable  part  ot  tlie 


time  in  wishing  it  was  over.  This  is  fre- 
quently owing  to  an  unnecessary  enlarge- 
ment upon  every  circumstance  that  o;iers,  aa 
well  as  to  the  repetition  of  the  same  things. 
If  we  have  been  copious  in  pleading  for  spi- 
ritual blessings,  it  may  be  best  to  be  brief  and 
summary  in  the  article  of  intercession  tor 
others;  or  if  the  frame  of  our  spirits,  or  the 
circumstances  of  atlairs,  lead  us  to  be  more 
large  and  particular  in  laying  the  cases  of 
others  before  tiie  Lord,  respect  should  be  had 
to  this  intention  in  tlie  tbrmer  part  of  the 
prayer.  There  are,  doubtless,  seasons  when 
the  Lord  is  pleased  to  tavour  those  who  pray 
with  a  peculiar  liberty ;  they  speak  because 
they  feel;  they  have  a  wrestling  spirit,  aad 
hardly  know  how  to  leave  ofi!  NVhen  this 
is  the  case,  they  who  join  with  them  are  sel- 
dom wearied,  though  the  prayer  should  be 
protracted  something  beyond  the  usual  limits. 
But  I  believe  it  sometimes  happens,  both  in 
praying,  and  in  preaching,  that  we  are  apt 
to  spm  out  our  tune  to  the  greatest  lengUi, 
w^hen  w^e  have,  in  reality,  the  least  to  say. 
Long  prayers  should  in  general  be  avoided, 
especially  where  several  persons  are  to  pray 
successively  ;  or  else  even  spiritual  hearers 
will  be  unable  to  keep  up  their  attention. 
And  here  1  would  just  notice  an  impropriety 
we  sometimes  meet  with,  that  when  a  person 
gives  expectation  that  he  is  just  going  to 
conclude  his  prayer,  something  not  thought  of 
in  its  proper  place  occurring  that  instant  to 
his  mind,  leads  him  as  it  were  to  begin  again. 
But  unless  it  is  a  matter  of  singular  import- 
ance. It  would  be  better  omitted  lor  that  time. 

The  prayers  of  some  good  men  are  more 
like  preaching  than  praymg.  They  rather 
express  the  Lord's  mind  to  the  people,  than 
the  desires  of  the  people  to  the  Lord.  In- 
deed this  can  hardly  be  called  prayer.  It 
might,  in  another  place,  stand  for  a  part  of 
a  good  sermon ;  but  will  attbrd  little  help  to 
those  who  desire  to  pray  with  their  hearts. 
Prayer  should  be  sententious,  and  made  up 
of  breathings  to  the  Lord,  either  of  confes- 
sion, petition,  or  praise.  It  should  be,  not 
only  scriptural  and  evangelical,  but  experi- 
mental, a  simple  and  unstudied  expression 
of  the  wants  and  feelings  of  the  soul.  It 
will  be  so  if  the  heart  is  lively  and  afiected 
in  the  duty ;  it  must  be  so  if  the  edification 
of  others  is  the  point  in  view. 

Several  books  have  been  written  to  assist 
in  the  gill  and  exercise  of  prayer,  as  by  Dr. 
Watts,  and  others;  and  many  useful  hint3 
may  be  borrowed  from  them ;  but  a  too  close 
attention  to' the  method  and  transitions  there- 
in recommended,  gives  an  air  of  study  and 
formality,  and  olienJs  agauist  that  sunplicity 
which  is  so  essentially  necessary  to  a  good 
prayer,  that  no  degree  of  acquired  abilities 
can  compensate  for  the  want  of  it.  It  is  pos- 
sible to  learn  to  pray  mechanically,  and  by 
rule ;  but  it  is  haruly  possible  to  do  so  witL- 


LIT.  xvin.] 


ON  SOCIAL  PRAYER. 


1S9 


accpptincp,  and  bon'^fit  to  otiirrs.  Whon 
tiio  sovtTul  partij  of  iiivix-ition,  adoration, 
confessioii,  petition,  &c.  tollow  oacli  otlior  in 
a  stated  ordor,  tlu^  hoart'r's  mind  },n?noralIy 
fjo.^.s  twfori?  the  speaker's  voice,  and  we  can 
torni  a  tolerable  conjecture  what  is  to  come 
next.  On  this  ncoimt  we  otlen  find,  that 
unlettered  people,  who  have  hail  little  or  no 
h»'lp  from  books,  or  rather  have  not  been  fet- 
tered by  them,  can  |)ray  with  an  miction  and 
savour  in  an  unpremeditated  way,  while  the 
prayers  of  persons  of  much  superior  uhilities, 
perliaps  even  of  ministers  themselves,  are, 
thouLjh  accurate  and  renrular,  so  dry  and 
starched,  that  they  atlbrd  little  either  of 
pleasure  or  profit  to  a  spiritual  mind.  The 
spirit  of  prayer  is  the  truth  and  token  of  the 
spirit  of  adoption.  The  stiulied  addresses 
with  whiclr  some  approach  the  throne  of 
g^race,  remind  us  of  a  stranger's  comin^^  to  a 
g^reat  man's  door;  he  knocks  and  waits,  sends 
in  his  name,  and  jroos  through  a  course  of 
ceremony  before  he  gains  admittance;  while 
a  child  of  tlic  family  uses  no  ceremony  at  all, 
but  enters  treely  when  ho  pleases  because 
be  knows  he  is  at  home.  It  is  true  we  ought 
always  to  draw  near  the  I^rd  with  great  hu- 
miliation of  spirit,  and  a  sense  of  our  un  wor- 
thiness. But  this  spirit  is  not  always  best 
expressed  or  promoted  by  a  pompous  enume- 
ration of  the  names  and  titles  of  the  God 
with  whom  we  have  to  do,  or  by  fixing  in 
our  minds  betbrehand,  the  exact  order  in 
which  we  propose  to  arrange  the  several 
parts  of  our  prayer.  Some  attention  to  me- 
thod may  be  proper,  for  the  prevention  of 
repetitions;  and  plain  people  may  be  a  little 
defective  in  it  sometimes;  but  this  defect 
will  not  be  half  so  tiresome  and  disagreeable 
as  a  studied  and  artificial  exactness. 

Many,  perhaps  most  people,  who  pray  in 
public,  have  some  favourite  word  or  expres- 
sion which  recurs  too  often  in  their  prayers, 
and  is  frequently  used  as  a  mere  expletive, 
having  no  necessary  connexion  with  the 
sense  of  what  they  are  speaking.  The  most 
disagreeable  of  these  is,  when  the  name  of 
the  blessed  God,  with  the  addition  of  perhaps 
one  or  more  epithets,  as  Great,  Glorious, 
Holy,  Almiglity,  &c.  is  introduced  so  often, 
and  without  necessity,  as  seems  neither  to 
indicate  a  due  reverence  in  the  person  who 
uses  it,  or  suited  to  excite  reverence  in  those 
who  heir.  I  will  not  say,  that  this  is  taking 
the  name  of  God  in  vain,  in  the  usual  sense 
of  the  plirase;  it  is,  however,  a  great  impro- 
priety, and  should  be  guarded  against.  It 
would  be  well  if  they  who  use  redundant  ex- 
pressions had  a  friend  to  give  them  a  caution, 
as  they  might,  with  a  little  care,  be  retrench- 
ed; and  hxrdly  any  person  can  be  sensible 
of  tlie  little  psculiarities  he  may  inadvertent- 
ly adopt,  unless  he  is  told  of  it. 

There  arc  several  things  likewise  respect- 
ing tlie  voice  and  manner  of  prayer,  which  a 


person  may,  with  duo  care,  correct  in  him- 
self, and  which,  if  gcnenilly  corn-rtrd,  wr)uld 
make  meetings  f()r  prayer  more*  ple.-i.snrit 
than  they  sorm'times  are.  'J'h«'He  1  hhall 
mention  by  jiairs,  as  the  happy  and  agreeablo 
way  is  o  medium  between  two  inconveni«'nt 
extremes. 

Very  loud  speaking  is  a  fault,  when  the 
size  ot  the  place,  and  the  numher  of  hearers 
do  not  render  it  nec<'SHary.  The  end  of 
speaking  is, to  be  heard;  and,  when  that  end 
is  attained,  a  greater  elevation  of  the  voice 
is  fre(]uently  hurtful  to  the  speaker,  and  ia 
more  likely  to  confuse  a  hearer  than  to  fix 
his  attention.  I  do  not  deny  but  allowance 
must  be  made  for  constitution,  and  the 
warmth  of  the  passions,  which  dispose  some 
persons  to  speak  louder  than  others.  Yet 
such  will  do  well  to  restrain  themselves  as 
much  as  tliey  can.  It  may  seem  indeed  to 
indicate  great  earnestness,  and  that  the  heart 
is  much  atlected;  yet  it  is  oi'ten  but  false 
fire.  It  may  be  thought  speaking  with  pow- 
er ;  but  a  person  who  is  favoured  with  the 
Ix)rd's  presence  may  pray  with  power  in  a 
moderate  voice;  and  there  may  be  very  lit- 
tle power  of  the  Spirit,  though  the  voice 
should  be  heard  in  the  street  and  neigiihour- 
hood. 

The  other  extreme,  of  speaking  too  low, 
is  not  so  frequent;  but  if  we  are  not  heard, 
we  might  as  well  altogether  hold  our  peace. 
It  exhausts  the  spirits,  and  wearies  the  at- 
tention, to  be  listening  for  a  length  of  time 
to  a  very  low  voice.  Some  words  or  sen- 
tences will  be  lost,  which  will  render  what 
is  heard  less  intelligible  and  agreeable.  If 
the  speaker  can  be  heard  by  the  person  far- 
the*st  distant  from  him  the  rest  will  hear  of 
course. 

The  tone  of  the  voice  is  likewise  to  be  re- 
garded. Some  have  a  tone  in  prayer,  so 
very  difi'erent  from  their  usual  way  of  speak- 
ing, that  their  nearest  friends,  if  not  accus- 
tomed to  them,  could  liardly  know  them  by 
their  voice.  Sometimes  the  tone  in  changed, 
perhaps  more  tiian  once,  so  that  if  our  eyes 
did  not  give  us  more  certain  information  than 
our  ears,  we  might  think  two  or  tliree  per- 
sons had  been  speaking  by  turns.  It  is  pity 
that  when  we  approve  what  is  spoken,  we 
should  be  so  easily  disconcerted  by  an  awk- 
w^ardness  of  delivery ;  yet  so  it  often  is,  and 
probably  so  it  will  be,  in  the  present  weak 
and  imperfect  state  of  human  nature.  It  is 
more  to  be  lamented  than  wondered  at,  that 
sincere  Christians  are  sometimes  forced  to 
confess,  "  He  is  a  good  man,  and  his  prayers,, 
as  to  their  substance,  are  spiritual  and  judi- 
cious: but  there  is  something  so  displeasing 
in  his  manner,  that  1  am  always  uneasy 
when  I  hear  him." 

Contrary  to  this,  and  still  more  offensive, 
is  a  custom  that  some  have  of  talking  to  the 
Lord  in  prayer.     It  is  their  natural  voice,  in* 


154 


ON  CONTROVERSY. 


[let.  XIX. 


deod,  but  it  is  tliat  expression  of  it  which 
ihcy  use  upon  tlic  most  familiar  and  trivial 
occasions.  The  human  voice  is  capable  of 
6o  many  inflexions  and  variations,  that  it  can 
adapt  itself  to  the  diflerent  sensations  of  our 
mind,  as  joy,  sorrow,  fear,  desire,  &.c.  If  a 
man  was  pleadin<j  for  his  life,  or  expressing 
his  thanks  to  the  kino-  for  a  pardon,  common 
sense  and  decency  would  teach  him  a  suit- 
ableness of  manner ;  and  any  one  who  could 
not  understand  his  lanjruage  might  know, 
by  the  sound  of  his  words,  that  he  was  not 
making  a  bargain,  or  telling  a  story.  How 
much  more,  when  we  speak  to  the  King  of 
kings,  should  the  consideration  of  his  glory, 
and  our  own  vileness,  and  of  the  important 
concerns  we  are  engaged  in  before  him,  im- 
press us  with  an  air  of  seriousness  and  reve- 
rence, and  prevent  us  from  speaking  to  him 
as  if  he  was  altogether  such  a  one  as  our- 
selves] The  liberty  to  which  we  are  called 
by  the  gospel,  does  not  at  all  encourage  such 
a  pertness  and  familiarity  as  would  be  unbe- 
coming to  use  towards  a  fellow-worm  who 
was  a  little  advanced  above  us  in  worldly 
dignity, 

I  shall  be  glad  if  these  hints  may  be  of  any 
service  to  those  who  desire  to  worship  God 
in  spirit  and  in  truth,  and  who  wish  that 
whatever  has  a  tendency  to  damp  the  spirit 
of  devotion,  either  in  themselves  or  in  others, 
might  be  avoided.  It  is  a  point  of  delicacy 
and  difficulty  to  tell  any  one  what  we  wish 
could  be  altered  in  his  manner  of  prayer,  but 
it  can  give  no  just  offence  to  ask  a  friend,  if 
he  has  read  a  letter  on  this  subject,  in  "A 
Collection  of  Twenty-six  Letters,"  published 
in  1775, — I  am,  Slc. 


LETTER  XIX. 

On  Controversy. 

DEAJi  SIR, — As  you  are  likely  to  be  engaged 
in  controversy,  and  your  love  of  truth  is 
joined  with  a  natural  warmth  of  temper,  my 
friendship  makes  me  solicitous  on  your  be- 
half You  are  of  the  strongest  side ;  for  truth 
is  great,  and  must  prevail ;  so  that  a  person 
of  abilities,  inferior  to  yours,  might  take  the 
field  with  a  confidence  of  victory.  I  am  not 
therefore  anxious  for  the  event  of  the  battle; 
but  I  would  have  you  more  than  a  conqueror, 
and  to  triumph  not  only  over  your  adversary, 
but  over  yourself  If  you  cannot  be  van- 
quished, you  may  be  wounded.  To  preserve 
you  from  such  wounds  as  might  give  you 
cause  of  weeping  over  your  conquests,  I 
would  present  you  with  some  considerations, 
which,  if  duly  attended  to,  will  do  you  the 
service  of  a  coat  of  mail ;  such  armour,  that 
you  need  not  complain,  as  David  did  of  Saul's 
that  it  will  be  more  cumbersome  than  useful ; 


for  you  will  easily  perceive  it  is  taken  from 
that  great  magazine  provided  for  a  christian 
soldier,  the  word  of  God,  I  take  it  for  grant- 
ed, that  you  will  not  expect  any  apology  for 
my  freedom,  and  therefore  I  shall  not  offer 
one.  For  method's  sake,  I  may  reduce  my 
advice  to  three  heads, — respecting  your  oppo- 
nent, the  public,  and  yourself 

As  to  your  opponent,  I  wish,  that  before 
you  set  pen  to  paper  against  him,  and  during 
the  whole  time  you  are  preparing  your  an- 
swer, you  may  commend  him  by  earnest 
prayer  to  the  Lord's  teaching  and  blessing. 
This  practice  will  have  a  direct  tendency  to 
conciliate  your  heart  to  love  and  pity  him ; 
and  such  a  disposition  will  have  a  good  m- 
fluence  upon  every  page  you  write.  If  you 
account  him  a  believer,  though  greatly  mis- 
taken in  the  subject  of  debate  between  you, 
the  words  of  David  to  Joab,  concerning  Ab- 
salom, are  very  applicable  :  "  Deal  gently 
with  him  for  my  sake,"  The  Lord  loves 
him  and  bears  with  him  ;  therefore  you  must 
not  despise  him,  or  treat  him  harshly.  The 
Ijord  bears  with  you  likewise,  and  expects 
that  you  should  show  tenderness  to  others, 
from  a  sense  of  the  much  forgiveness  you 
need  yourself  In  a  little  while  you  will 
meet  in  heaven ;  he  will  then  be  dearer  to 
you  than  the  nearest  friend  you  have  upon 
earth  is  to  you  now.  Anticipate  that  period 
in  your  thoughts ;  and  though  you  may  find 
it  necessary  to  oppose  his  errors,  view  him 
personally  as  a  kindred  soul,  with  whom  you 
are  to  be  happy  in  Christ  for  ever.  But  if 
you  look  upon  him  as  an  unconverted  person, 
in  a  state  of  enmity  against  God  and  his  grace 
(a  supposition  which,  without  good  evidence, 
you  should  be  very  unwilling  to  admit,)  he 
is  a  more  proper  object  of  your  compassion 
than  of  your  anger.  Alas!  he  knows  not 
what  he  does :  but  you  know  who  has  made 
you  to  differ.  If  God  in  his  sovereign  plea- 
sure had  so  appointed,  you  might  have  been 
as  he  is  now ;  and  he,  instead  of  you,  might 
have  been  set  for  the  defence  of  the  gospel. 
You  were  both  equally  blind  by  nature.  If 
you  attend  to  this,  you  will  not  reproach  or 
hate  him,  because  the  Lord  has  been  pleased 
to  open  your  eyes,  and  not  his.  Of  all  peo- 
ple w4io  engage  in  controversy,  we,  who  are 
called  Calvinists,  are  most  expressly  bound 
by  our  own  principles  to  the  exercise  of  gen- 
tleness and  moderation.  If,  indeed,  they 
w^ho  differ  from  us  have  a  power  of  chang- 
ing themselves,  if  they  can  open  their  own 
eyes,  and  soften  their  own  hearts,  then  we 
might  with  less  inconsistence  be  offended  at 
their  obstinacy ;  but  if  we  believe  the  very 
contrary  to  this,  our  part  is,  not  to  strive,  but 
in  meekness  to  instruct  those  who  oppose, 
"if  peradventure  God  will  give  them  repent- 
ance to  the  acknowledgment  of  the  truth.'* 
If  you  write  with  a  desire  of  being  an  in- 
strument of  correcting  mistakes,  you  will  of 


ITT.  ZIX.] 


ON  CONTROVERSY. 


in 


course  be  cautious  of  laying  Btumblin;j-b'ocks 
in  tho  way  of  tho  blirul,  or  of  uAUvr  any  ex- 
prosaions  tint  may  ex  isporato  their  pasyions, 
conHrrn  tht'in  in  Uioir  prejudices,  and  there- 
by mike  thi'ir c>)nvicli()ii,  huiiiialy spoakiiifj, 
more  impracticable. 

lly  priiiliii<j,  ymi  will  appeal  to  the  public, 
where  your  readers  may  be  ran^red  under 
three  divisions.  Fii'st,  such  as  ditler  from 
you  in  principle.  Concerninjif  these  I  may 
refer  you  to  what  I  liave  already  said. 
Though  you  have  your  eyes  upon  one  per- 
son chiefly,  there  are  many  like-minded  with 
him ;  and  the  same  reasoninjj  will  hold, 
whether  as  to  one  or  to  a  million.  There 
will  be  likewise  many  who  pay  too  little 
re(p.rd  to  reli^'ion,  to  have  any  settled  sys- 
tem of  their  own,  and  yet  are  pre-enf:;"an^ed 
in  favour  of  those  sentiments  which  are 
'east  repufjnant  to  the  f]food  opinion  men 
naturally  have  of  themselves.  These  are 
very  incompetent  judges  of  doctrines,  but 
they  can  tbrm  a  tolerable  judgment  of  a 
writer's  spirit.  They  know  that  meekness, 
humility,  and  love,  are  the  characteristics  of 
a  christian  temper  ;  and  though  they  aftect  to 
treat  tho  doctrines  of  grace  as  mere  notions 
and  speculations,  which,  supposing  they 
adopted  them,  would  have  no  salutary  influ- 
ence upon  their  conduct;  yet  from  us,  who 
profess  these  principles,  they  always  e.xpect 
such  dispositions  as  correspond  with  the  pre- 
cep'-s  of  the  gospel.  They  are  quick-sighted 
to  discern  when  we  deviate  from  such  a 
spirit,  and  avail  themselves  of  it  to  justify 
their  contempt  of  our  arguments.  The  scrip- 
tural maxim.  That  "  the  wrath  of  man 
worketh  not  the  righteousness  of  God,"  is 
verified  by  daily  observation.  If  our  zeal  is 
embittered  by  expressions  of  anger,  invec- 
tive, or  scorn,  we  may  think  we  are  doing 
service  to  the  cause  of  truth,  when  in  reality 
we  shall  only  bring  it  into  discredit.  The 
weapons  of  our  warfare,  and  which  alone 
are  powerful  to  break  down  the  strong  holds 
of  error,  are  not  carnal,  but  spiritual;  argu- 
ments fairly  drawn  from  scripture  and  ex- 
perience, and  enforced  by  such  a  mild  address, 
as  may  persuade  our  readers,  that,  whether 
we  can  convince  them  or  not,  we  wish  well 
to  their  souls,  and  contend  only  for  the  truth's 
sake :  if  we  can  satisfy  them  that  we  act  up 
to  these  motives,  our  point  is  half  gained  ; 
they  will  be  more  disposed  to  consider  calm- 
ly what  we  olTer;  and  if  they  should  still 
dissent  from  our  opinions,  they  will  be  con- 
strained to  approve  of  our  intentions. 

You  will  have  a  third  class  of  readers,  who, 
being  of  your  own  sentiments,  will  readily 
approve  of  what  you  advance,  and  may  be 
further  established  and  confirmed  in  their 
views  of  scripture  doctrines,  by  a  clear  and 
masterly  elucidation  of  your  subject.  You 
may  be  instrumental  to  their  edification,  if 
the  laws  of  kindness,  as  well  as  of  truth,  re- 1 


jrulatcs  your  pen ;  oUicrwlHo  vou  may  do  thojn 
harm.  There  ia  a  principle  of  Belf,  which 
di8|X)ses  us  to  despi.se  tlioso  wlio  tlillrr  from 
us;  and  wo  are  ol\en  under  itw  influ«'nrr, 
when  we  think  we  are  only  Hhowing  a  l>r- 
coming  zeal  in  the  cause  of  (icmJ.  I  readily 
beli«ne,  that  the  loading  |>)irit.s  of  Arminiun- 
ism  .spring  from,  and  are  nourished  hy,  tho 
pride  of  the  human  heart ;  but  I  should  l>o 
glad  if  the  reverse  was  always  true;  and 
that  to  embrace  what  are  called  the  (^'alvin- 
istic  (Kxrtrines  was  an  infallible  token  of  an 
humble  mind.  I  think  I  have  known  somn 
Arminians,  that  is,  persotis  who,  ftjr  want  of 
clearer  light,  iiavo  been  afraid  of  receiving 
the  doctrines  of  free  grace,  who  yet  have 
given  evidence  that  their  hearts  were  in  a 
degree  iiumbled  before  the  Lord.  And,  I 
am  afraid,  there  are  Calvinist.s,  who,  while 
they  account  it  a  proof  of  their  humility,  that 
they  are  willing,  in  words,  to  debase  the 
creature,  and  to  give  all  the  glory  of  salva- 
tion to  the  Lord,  yet  know  not  what  manner 
of  spirit  they  are  of.  Whatever  it  bo  that 
makes  us  trust  in  ourselves  that  we  are  com- 
paratively wise  or  good,  so  as  to  treat  thoso 
with  contempt  who  do  not  subscribe  to  our 
doctrines,  or  follow  our  party,  is  a  proof  and 
fruit  of  a  self-righteous  spirit.  Self-righteous- 
ness can  feed  upon  doctrines,  as  w^l  aa 
upon  works ;  and  a  man  may  have  the  heart 
of  a  Pharisee,  while  his  head  is  stored  with 
orthodox  notions  of  the  unworthiness  of  the 
creature,  and  the  riches  of  free  grace.  Yea, 
I  would  add,  the  best  of  men  are  not  wholly 
free  from  this  leaven  ;  and  therefore  are  too 
apt  to  be  pleased  with  such  representations 
as  hold  up  our  adversaries  to  ridicule,  and, 
by  consequence,  flatter  our  own  superior  judg- 
ments. Controversies,  for  the  most  part,  are 
so  managed  as  to  indulo-e,  rather  than  to  re- 
press this  wrong  disposition  ;  and,  therefore, 
generally  speaking,  they  are  productive  of 
little  good.  They  provoke  those  whom  they 
should  convince,  and  puff  up  those  whom 
they  should  edify.  I  hope  your  performance 
will  savour  of  a  spirit  of  true  humility,  and 
be  a  means  of  promoting  it  in  others. 

This  leads  me,  in  the  last  place,  to  con- 
sider your  own  concern  in  your  present  un- 
dertaking. It  seems  a  laudable  service  to 
defend  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints; 
we  are  commanded  to  contend  earnestly  for 
it,  and  to  convince  gainsayers.  If  ever  such 
defences  were  seasonable  and  expedient, 
they  appear  to  be  so  in  our  day,  when  errors 
abound  on  all  sides,  and  every  truth  of  the 
gospel  is  either  directly  denied,  or  grossly 
misrepresented.  And  yet  we  find  but  very 
few  writers  of  controversy  who  have  not 
been  manifestly  hurt  by  it  Either  they 
grow  in  a  sense  of  their  own  importance,  or 
imbibe  an  angry,  contentious  spirit,  or  they 
insensibly  withdraw  their  attention  from 
those  thinjjs  which  are  the  food,  and  imic«- 


153 


ON  CONFORMITY  TO  THE  WORLD. 


diatc  support  of  the  life  of  fiith,  anJ  Fp?n'J 
thoir  tiino  anJ  strength  upon  matters  which, 
at  most,  ara  but  of  a  secouJary  value.  Thib 
Bhowo,  thit  if  the  service  is  honourable,  it  is 
dann^crous.  What  will  it  profit  a  mm,  if  he 
gain  his  cause  and  silence  his  adversary,  if 
at  the  same  time  he  loses  that  humble,  ten- 
der frame  of  spirit  in  which  the  Lord  delights, 
and  to  which  the  pro.nise  of  iiis  presence  is 
m'ide  ]  Your  aim,  I  doubt  not,  is  good  ;  but 
you  hive  need  to  watch  and  pray,  for  you 
will  find  Satan  at  your  right  iiand,  to  resist 
you.  He  will  try  to  debase  your  views;  and 
though  you  set  out  in  defence  of  the  cause 
of  GoJ,  if  you  are  not  continually  looking  to 
the  Lord  to  keep  you,  it  may  become  your 
own  cause,  and  awaken  in  you  those  tem- 
pers which  are  inconsistent  with  true  peace 
of  mind,  and  will  surely  obstruct  communion 
with  God.  Be  upon  your  guard  against  ad- 
mitting any  thing  personal  into  the  debate. 
If  you  think  you  have  been  ill  treated,  you 
will  have  an  opportunity  of  showing  that  you 
are  a  disciple  of  Jesus,  who,  "  when  he  was 
reviled,  reviled  not  again  ;  when  he  suffered, 
he  threatened  not."  This  is  our  pattern; 
thus  we  are  to  speak  and  write  for  God,  "not 
rendering  railing  for  railing,  but  contrari- 
wise, blessing;  knowing  that  hereunto  we 
are  called."  The  wisdom  that  is  from  above 
is  not  only  pure,  but  peaceable  and  gentle ; 
and  the  want  of  these  qualifications,  like  the 
dead  fly  in  the  pot  of  ointment,  will  spoil  the 
savour  and  efficacy  of  our  labours.  If  we 
act  in  a  wrong  spirit,  we  shall  bring  little 
glory  to  God,  do  little  good  to  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  procure  neither  honour  nor  com- 
fort to  ourselves.  If  you  can  be  content  with 
showing  your  wit,  and  gaining  the  laugh  on 
your  side,  you  have  an  easy  task ;  but  I  iiope 
you  have  a  far  nobler  aim,  and  that,  sensible 
of  tlie  solemn  importance  of  gospel-truths, 
and  th3  compassion  due  to  the  souls  of  men, 
you  would  rather  be  a  means  of  removing 
prejudices  in  a  single  instance,  than  obtain 
the  empty  applause  of  thousands.  Go  forth, 
therefore,  in  t!ie  name  and  strength  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts,  speaking  the  truth  in  love  ; 
and  may  he  give  you  a  witness  in  many 
hearts,  that  you  are  taught  of  God,  and  fa- 
voured with  the  unction  of  his  Holy  Spirit. 
I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  XX. 

On  Conformity  to  the  World. 

DEAR  SIR, — You  will,  perhaps,  be  sur- 
prised to  see  my  thoughts  on  your  query  in 
print,  rather  than  to  receive  them  by  post, 
as  you  expected.  But  as  the  subject  of  it  is 
of  generil  concern,  I  hope  t!iat  you  will  not 
be  displeased  that  I  have  taksn  this  metiiod. 


[let.    XX. 


It  would  do  honour  to  the  pen  of  an  able 
casuist,  and  might  be  of  considerable  service 
in  the  present  day,  clearly  to  explain  the 
force  of  the  apostle's  precept,  "  Be  not  con- 
formed to  this  world ;"  and  to  state  tlie  just 
l:oundary  between  a  sinful  compliance  with 
the  world,  and  that  scrupulous  singularity 
which  springs  from  a  self-righteous  principle, 
and  a  contracted  view  of  the  spirit  and 
liberty  of  the  gospel.  To  treat  this  point 
accurately,  would  require  a  treatise,  rather 
than  a  letter;  I  only  undertake  to  offer 
you  a  few  hints ;  and,  indeed,  when  the 
mind  is  formed  to  a  spiritual  taste,  a  simple 
desire  to  be  guided  by  the  word  and  Spirit 
of  God,  together  wdth  a  due  attention  to  our 
own  experience,  will,  in  most  practical  cases, 
supersede  the  necessity  of  long  and  elaborate 
disquisitions. 

By  the  world,  in  the  passage  alluded  to, 
Rom.  xii.  2,  I  suppose  the  apostle  means 
the  men  of  the  world,  in  distinction  from 
believers  ;  these,  not  having  the  love  of  God 
in  their  hearts,  or  his  fear  before  their  eyes, 
are,  of  course,  engaged  in  such  pursuits  and 
practices  as  are  inconsistent  with  our  holy 
calling,  and  wdiich  we  cannot  imitate  or  com- 
ply with  them,  without  hurting  our  peace 
and  our  profession.  We  are,  therefore,  bound 
to  avoid  conformity  to  them  in  all  such  in- 
stances ;  but  we  are  not  obliged  to  decline 
all  intercourse  with  the  world,  or  to  impose 
restraints  upon  ourselves,  when  the  scriptures 
do  not  restrain  us,  m  order  to  make  us  as 
unlike  the  world  as  possible.  To  instance 
in  a  few  particulars : — 

It  is  not  necessary,  perhaps  it  is  not  law- 
ful, wholly  to  renounce  the  society  of  the 
world.  A  mistake  of  this  kind  took  place 
in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity,  and  men 
(at  first,  perhaps,  with  a  sincere  desire  of 
serving  God  without  distraction)  withdrew 
into  deserts  and  uninhabited  places,  and 
wasted  their  lives  at  a  distance  from  their 
fellow-creatures.  But  unless  we  could  flee 
from  ourselves  likewise,  this  would  afford  ua 
no  advantage  ;  so  long  as  we  carry  our  own 
wicked  hearts  with  us,  we  shall  be  exposed 
to  temptation,  go  where  we  will.  Besides, 
this  would  be  thwarting  the  end  of  our  voca- 
tion. Christians  are  to  be  the  salt  and  the 
light  of  the  world,  conspicuous  as  cities  set 
upon  a  hill;  they  are  commanded  to  "let 
their  light  shine  before  men,  that  they,  be- 
holding their  good  works,  may  glorify  their 
Father  who  is  in  heaven."  This  injudicious 
deviation  f/om  the  paths  of  nature  and  provi- 
dence, gave  occasion,  at  length,  to  the  vilest 
abominations  ;  and  men,  who  withdrew  from 
the  world  under  the  pretence  of  retirement, 
became  the  more  wicked  and  abandoned,  as 
they  lived  more  out  of  public  view  and  ob- 
servation. 

Nor  are  we  at  liberty,  much  less  are  we 
enjoined,  to  renounce  the  duties  of  relative 


LKT.  XX.] 


ON  CONFORMITY  TO  TIIIO  WORM). 


157 


.ife,  8o  as  tobocomo  carolcsH  in  the  disclmrffo 
of  UuMii.  AlK)\vancrs  slioiiltl,  iiidt^oil,  b«'  iimdr 
for  the  distress  of  jjitsoiis  lunvly  awakened, 
or  under  tlio  iK)\ver  of  leinptalion,  which 
may,  lor  a  time,  w)  nuich  en«^rt).-*H  their 
thoiiLrhts,  as  crroatly  to  indisiHkse  them  for 
their  bounden  (hity.  Hut  in  {j^eneral,  the 
pri»|)er  evidence  of  true  christians,  is,  not 
merely  thut  they  can  talk  about  divine  thinj,'s, 
but  thit,  by  the  <,'race  of  (Jod,  tlun'  live  and 
act  a<rreeable  to  the  rules  of  iiis  word,  in  the 
state  in  which  iiis  jirovidenco  has  j)laceil 
them,  whether  as  masters  or  servants,  Jms- 
bands  or  wives,  parents  or  children  :  bearin«,' 
rule,  or  yieldinj:^  obedience,  as  in  his  si<rht 
I)ili(]^enco  and  fidelity  in  the  manan^cmont 
of  tem{)oral  concernments,  thouij^h  observable 
in  the  practice  of  many  worldly  men,  may 
be  maintained  without  a  sinful  conformity 
to  the  world. 

Neither  are  we  required  to  refuse  a  mode- 
rate use  of  the  comforts  and  conveniencies 
of  lite,  suitable  to  the  station  which  Cod 
has  appointed  us  in  the  world.  The  spirit 
of  sclf-rigfiiteousness  and  will-worship  works 
much  in  tiiis  way,  and  supposes  that  there  is 
somethinsf  excellent  in  lontf  fastinji^s,  in  ab- 
staining^ from  pleasant  tbod,  in  wearinf^  mean- 
er clothes  than  is  customary  with  those  in 
the  same  rank  of  life,  and  in  many  other 
austerities  and  sin^fularities  not  commanded 
by  the  word  of  God.  And  many  persons, 
who  are  in  the  main  sincere,  are  grievously 
burdened  with  scruples  respecting  the  use 
of  lawful  things.  It  is  true,  there  is  need 
of  a  constant  watch,  lest  what  is  lawful  in 
itself  become  hurtful  to  us  by  its  abuse.  But 
these  outward  strictnesses  may  be  carried 
to  great  lengths,  without  a  spark  of  true 
grace,  and  even  without  the  knowledge  of 
the  true  God.  The  mortifications  and  aus- 
terities practised  by  the  Bramins  in  India 
(if  the  accounts  we  have  of  them  be  true) 
are  vastly  more  severe  than  the  most  zeal- 
ous effects  of  modern  superstition  in  our 
country.  There  is  a  strictness  which  arises 
rather  from  ignorance  than  knowledge, 
is  wholly  conversant  about  externals,  and 
gratifies  the  spirit  of  self  as  much  in  one 
way  as  it  seems  to  retrench  it  in  another. 
A  man  may  almost  starve  his  body  to  feed 
his  pride ;  but  to  those  who  fear  and  serve 
the  Lord,  every  creature  of  God  is  good, 
and  nothing  to  be  refused,  if  it  be  received 
with  thanksgiving;  fbr  it  is  sanctified  by  the 
word  of  God  and  prayer. 

Notwithstanding  these  limitations,  the  pre- 
cept is  very  extensive  and  important,  "  Be 
not  conformed  to  the  world."  As  believers, 
we  are  strangers  and  pilgrims  upon  earth. 
Heaven  is  our  country,  and  the  Lord  is  our 
King.  We  are  to  be  known  and  noticed  as 
his  subjects,  and  therefore,  it  is  his  pleasure, 
tliat  we  do  not  speik  the  language,  or  adopt 
the  customs  of  the  land  in  which  we  sojourn. , 


We  am  not  to  conform  to  the  world,  n«  wo 
did  in  the  dayw  of  our  ignorance.  And  though 
we  have  received  the  principlrs  of  •.'nur, 
and  have  tjjstt'd  of  the  gixxInesH  of  the  Lord, 
the  admonition  is  still  needful ;  for  we  arcj 
rt'uewed  but  in  jnirt,  and  are  liable  to  Imj 
drawn  aside  to  our  hurt,  by  the  prcvahnco 
of  evil  examples  and  customs  aromul   us. 

\V'e  nmst  not  conform  to  the  spirit  of  the 
world.  As  members  of  society,  we  have  a 
part  to  act  in  it,  in  common  with  others. 
But  if  our  business  is  the  same,  our  princi- 
ples and  ends  are  to  be  entir(dy  diflerent. 
Diligence  in  our  respective  callings  i.s,  as  I 
have  already  observed,  commendable,  and  our 
duty;  but  not  with  the  same  views  which 
stimulate  the  activity  of  the  men  of  the  world. 
If  they  rise  early,  and  take  rest  late,  their  en- 
deavours spring  from,  and  terminate  in  self, 
to  establish  and  increase  their  own  impor- 
tance, to  add  house  to  house,  and  field  to 
field,  that,  like  the  builders  of  Babel,  they 
may  get  themselves  a  name,  or  provide  means 
for  the  gratification  of  their  sinful  passions. 
If  they  succeed,  they  sacrifice  to  their  own 
net;  if  they  are  crossed  in  their  designs,  they 
are  filled  with  anxiety  and  impatience ;  they 
either  murmur  or  despond.  But  a  christian 
is  to  pursue  his  lawful  calling  with  an  eye 
to  the  providence  of  God,  and  with  submis- 
sion to  his  wisdom.  Thus,  so  far  as  he  acta 
in  the  exercise  of  faith,  he  cannot  be  disap- 
pointed. He  casts  his  care  upon  his  heavenly 
Father,  who  has  promised  to  take  care  of 
him.  What  he  gives,  he  receives  with  thank- 
fulness, and  is  careful,  as  a  faithful  steward, 
to  improve  fbr  the  furtherance  of  the  cause 
of  God,  and  the  good  of  mankind;  and  if  he 
meets  with  losses  and  crosses,  he  is  not  disr 
concerted,  knowing  that  all  his  concerns  are 
under  a  divine  direction ;  that  the  Lord, 
whom  he  serves, chooses  for  him  better  than 
he  could  choose  for  himself:  and  that  his 
best  treasure  is  safe,  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
various  changes  to  which  all  things  in  the 
present  state  are  liable. 

We  must  not  conform  to  the  maxims  of 
the  world.  The  world,  in  various  histances, 
calls  evil  good,  and  good  evil.  But  we  are 
to  have  recourse  to  the  law  and  to  the  testi- 
mony, and  to  judge  of  things  by  the  unerrin^j 
word  of  God,  uninfluenced  by  {he  determina- 
tion of  tlie  great,  or  the  many.  We  are  to 
obey  God  rather  than  man,  though  upon  this 
account,  we  may  expect  to  bo  despised  or 
reviled,  to  be  made  a  gazing-stock  or  a  laugh- 
ing-stock to  those  who  set  his  authority  at 
defiance.  We  must  bear  our  testimony  to 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  avow  the  cause  of 
his  despised  people,  and  walk  in  the  practice 
of  universal  obedience,  patiently  endure  re- 
proaches, and  labour  to  overcome  evil  with 
good.  Thus  we  shall  show  that  we  are  not 
ashamed  of  him.  And  there  is  an  hour  com- 
ing, when  he  will  not  be  ashamed  of  us,  who 


im 


I  WAS  ONCE  BUND,  BUT  NOW  I  SEE. 


[let.  to. 


nave  followed  him,  and  borne  his  cross,  in  the 
midstofa  perverse  greneration,but  will  own  our 
worthless  names  before  the  assembled  world. 

We  must  not  conform  to  the  world  in  their 
amusements  and  diversions.  We  are  to  mix 
with  the  world  so  far  as  our  necessary  and 
providential  connexions  cnnfan^e  us;  so  far 
as  we  have  a  reasonable  expectation  of  doing, 
or  gettin^T  j^ood,  and  no  further.  "  What 
fellowsliip  liath  lif^ht  with  darkness,  or  what 
concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial  !"  What 
call  can  a  believer  have  into  tiiose  places  and 
companies,  where  every  thing  tends  to  pro- 
mote a  spirit  of  dissipation ;  where  the  fear 
of  GoJ  has  no  place ;  where  things  are  pur- 
posely disposed  to  inflame,  or  indulge  cor- 
rupt and  sinful  appetites  and  passions,  and  to 
banish  all  serious  thoughts  of  God  and  our- 
selves ]  If  it  is  our  duty  to  redeem  time,  to 
walk  with  God,  to  do  all  things  in  the  name 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample which  he  set  us  when  he  was  upon 
earth,  and  to  work  out  our  salvation  with 
fear  ahd  trembling;  it  must  of  course  be  our 
duty  to  avoid  a  conformity  with  tiie  world  j 
in  those  vain  and  sensual  diversions,  which  | 
stand  in  as  direct  contradiction  ta  a  spiritual 
frame  of  mind  as  darkness  to  light. 

The  leading  desires  of  every  person  under 
the  influence  of  gospel-principles,  Avill  be  to 
maintain  a  habitual  communion  with  God  in 
his  own  soul,  and  to  manifest  the  power  of 
his  grace  in  the  sight  of  men.  So  far  as  a 
christian  is  infected  by  a  conformity  to  the 
spirit,  maxims,  and  smful  customs  of  the 
world,  these  desires  will  be  disappointed. 
Fire  and  water  are  not  more  opposite  than 
that  peace  of  God  wiiich  passeth  all  under- 
standing, and  that  poor  precarious  pleasure 
which  is  sought  in  a  compliance  with  the 
world;  a  pleasure  (if  worthy  the  name)  which 
grieves  the  Spirit  ot  God  and  stupifies  the 
Iieart  Whoever,  after  having  tasted  that  the 
Lord  is  gracious,  has  been  prevailed  on  to  make 
the  experiment,and  to  mingle  with  the  world's 
vanities,  has  certainly  thereby  brought  a 
damp  upon  his  experience,  and  indisposed 
himself  for  the  exercise  of  prayer,  and  the 
contemplation  of  divine  truths.  And  if  any 
are  not  sensible  of  a  difference  in  this  respect, 
it  is  because  the  poison  has  taken  a  still 
deeper  effect,  so  as  to  benumb  their  spiritual 
senses.  Conformity  to  the  world  is  the  bane 
of  many  professors  in  this  day.  They  have 
found  a  way,  as  they  think,  to  serve  both 
God  and  mammon.  But  because  they  are 
double-minJed,  they  are  unstable;  they 
make  no  progress ;  and  notwithstanding  their 
frequent  attendance  upon  ordinances,  they 
are  lean  irom  day  to  day ;  a  form  of  godli- 
ness, a  scheme  of  orthodox  notions  they  may 
attain  to,  but  they  will  re:iriin  destitute  of 
the  life,  power,  and  comfort  of  religion,  so 
long  as  they  cleave  to  those  things  which 
are  mcompatiblc  with  it. 


Conformity  to  the  world  is  equally  an  ob- 
stniction  in  the  way  of  those  who  profess  a 
desire  of  glorifying  God  in  the  sight  of  men. 
Such  professors  do  rather  dishonour  him;  by 
their  conduct,  as  far  as  in  them  lies,  they 
declare,  that  they  do  not  find  the  religion  of 
the  gospel  answer  their  expectations;  that  it 
does  not  afford  them  the  satisfaction  they 
once  hoped  for  from  it ;  and  that  therefore 
they  are  forced  to  seek  relief  from  the  world. 
They  grieve  the  people  of  God  by  their  com- 
pliances, and  ofttimes  they  mislead  the  weak, 
and,  by  their  examples  encourage  them  to  ven- 
ture upon  the  like  liberties,  which  otherwise 
they  durst  not  have  attempted.  They  em- 
bolden the  wicked  likewise  in  their  evil  ways, 
while  they  see  a  manifest  inconsistence  be- 
tween their  avowed  principles  and  their  prac- 
tice ;  and  thus  they  cause  the  ways  of  truth  to 
be  evil  spoken  of — The  paper  constrains  me 
to  conclude  abruptly.  May  the  Lord  enable 
you  and  me  to  lay  this  subject  to  heart,  and 
to  pray  that  we  may,  on  the  one  hand,  right- 
ly understand  and  prize  our  christian  liberty; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  be  preserved  from 
that  growing  evil,  a  conformity  to  tlie  world 
— I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXL 
"  /  was  once  blind,  but  now  I  see.** 

DE.vR  SIR, — The  question,  What  is  the 
discriminating  characteristic  nature  of  a 
work  of  grace  upon  the  souH  has  been  upon 
my  mind  ;  if  I  am  able  to  give  you  satisfac- 
tion concerning  it,  I  shall  think  my  time 
well  employed. 

The  reason  why  men  in  a  natural  state 
are  utterly  ignorant  of  spiritual  truths,  is,  that 
they  are  wholly  destitute  of  a  faculty  suited 
to  their  perception.  A  remarkable  instance 
w-e  have  in  the  absurd  construction  which 
Nicodemus  put  upon  what  our  Lord  had 
spoken  to  him  concerning  the  new  birth. 
And  in  the  supernatural  communication  of 
this  spiritual  faculty,  by  the  agency  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  I  apprehend  the  inimitable  and 
abiding  criterion,  which  is  the  subject  of  our 
inquiry,  does  primarily  consist.  Those  pas- 
sages of  scripture  wherein  the  gospel-truth 
is  compared  to  light,  lead  to  a  familiar  illus- 
tration of  my  meaning.  Men,  by  nature,  are 
stark  blind  with  respect  to  this  light;  by 
grace  the  eyes  of  the  understanding  are 
opened.  Among  a  number  of  blind  men, 
some  may  be  more  ingenious  and  of  better 
capacity  than  others.  They  may  be  better 
qualified  for  such  studies  and  employments 
which  do  not  require  eye-siiiht,  than  many 
who  can  see,  and  may  attain  to  considerable 
skill  in  them ;  but  with  respect  to  the  true 
nature  of  light  and  colours,  they  are  all  ex- 


ON  SPIRITUAL  BLINDNKSS. 


190 


actly  upon  a  lovol.  A  blind  mm,  if  injjo- 
nious  un.l  in;iiiisitivo,  miy  learn  to  talk  alM)ul 
the  li^lit,  the  sun,  or  the  rainlww,  in  terms 
borro\ve(i  from  tliosn  who  have  seen  them ; 
but  it  is  impossihU?  that  he  can  have  (I  m«\an 
a  man  Ixirn  hliml)  a  }u<  idea,  of  either;  and 
whatever  hearsay  knowledije  he  may  have 
acquired,  he  can  hanily  talk  nuieh  ui)on  these 
puhjeets  witliout  bet rayinrr  his  real  i;xn^""anee. 
The  case  of  one  mentioned  by  iMr.  I.ocke  has 
been  often  (juot-^l.  \h^  bdieved,  that  after 
mucli  inijuiry  anil  reflection,  he  bad  at  last 
found  out  what  scarlet  was;  and  beinrr  asked 
to  explain  himself,  "I  think,"  says  he,  "scar- 
let has  somcthini]f  like  the  sound  of  a  trum- 
pet" This  man  had  about  tlic  same  know- 
led  (jo  of  natural  lijxht  as  Nicodcmus  had  of 
spiritual.  Nor  can  all  the  learninp;'  or  study 
in  the  world  enable  any  person  to  form  a  suit- 
able judnfment  of  divine  truth,  till  the  eyes 
of  his  mind  are  opened,  and  then  he  will 
perceive  it  at  once. 

Indeed  this  comparison  is  well  suited  to 
show  the  entire  dirt'erence  between  nature 
and  frracc,  and  to  explain  the  fjround  of  that 
enmity  and  scorn  which  fills  the  hearts  of 
blinded  sinners,  an^ainst  those  who  profess  to 
have  been  enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of  Go<l. 
The  reason  why  blind  men  are  not  affronted 
when  we  tell  them  they  cannot  see,  seems 
to  Ik?,  that  they  are  borne  down  by  the  united 
testimony  of  all  who  are  about  them.  Every 
one  talks  of  seeincr;  and  they  find  by  expe- 
rience, that  those  who  say  they  can  see,  can 
do  many  thinijs  whicii  the  blind  cannot.  Some 
sucli  conviction  as  this  many  have  who  live 
where  the  ofospsl  is  preached,  and  is  made  the 
power  of  God  to  the  salvation  of  others.  The 
conversation  and  conduct  of  the  people  of 
God  convinces  them,  that  tliere  is  a  differ- 
ence, thouirh  they  cannot  tell  wherein  it 
consists.  But  if  we  would  suppose  it  possi- 
ble, that  there  was  a  whole  nation  of  blind 
men,  and  one  or  two  persons  should  go 
amonnfst  them,  and  profess  that  they  could 
see,  while  they  could  not  offer  them  such  a 
proof  of  their  assertion  as  they  were  capable 
of  receiving-,  nor  even  explain,  to  their  satis- 
faction, wdiat  they  meant  by  sight,  what  may 
we  imagine  would  be  the  consequence?  I 
think  there  is  little  doubt  but  these  innovators 
would  experience  much  the  same  treatment 
as  the  believers  of  Jesus  often  meet  with  from 
a  blind  world.  The  blind  people  would  cer- 
tainly hate  and  despise  them  for  presuming  to 
protend  to  what  they  had  not.  They  would 
try  to  dispute  them  out  of  their  senses,  and 
bring  many  arguments  to  prove,  that  there 
could  be  no  such  thing  as  either  light  or  sight. 
They  would  say,  as  many  say  now.  How  is 
it  if  these  things  are  so,  that  we  should  know 
nothing  of  them?  Yea,  I  think  it  probable, 
they  would  rise  against  them  as  deceivers 
and  enthusiasts,  and  disturbers  of  the  public 
peace,  and  say,  "Away  with  such  fellows  from 


the  earth  ;  it  is  not  fit  that  they  nbould  live." 
Hut  if  wo  should  Hupj)ose  further,  that  •iiirmP' 
♦  he  hf^at  of  the  contest,  worn*?  of  theHo  bhnd 
men  should  have  their  eyes  sufldenly  opoiu'd, 
th(»  disput(^  as  to  them  would  be  at  an  <-nd  in 
a  minute:  they  would  confess  their  former 
ignorance  and  obstinacy,  confirm  the  teMti- 
mony  of  those  whom  they  before  despised, 
nnd  of  coursf»  shnre  in  the  same  treatment 
from  thfur  blind  brethren,  perhaps  be  treated 
still  worse,  as  apostates  from  the  opinion  of 
the  public. 

If  this  illustration  is  justly  applicable  to 
our  s^ibject,  it  may  lead  us  to  several  obser- 
vations, or  inferences,  which  have  a  tenden- 
cy to  confirm  what  we  are  elsewhere  ex- 
pressly taught  by  the  word  of  (iod. 

In  the  first  place,  it  shows,  that  regenera- 
tion, or  that  great  change  without  which  a 
man  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  the 
efiect  of  almighty  power.  Neither  educa- 
tion, endeavours,  or  argument-s,  can  open  the 
eyes  of  the  blind.  It  is  God  alone,  who  at 
first  caused  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness, 
who  can  shine  into  our  hearts  "  to  give  us 
the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."  People  may 
attain  some  natural  ideas  of  spiritual  truths 
by  reading  books,  or  hearing  sermons,  and 
may  thereby  become  wise  in  their  own  con- 
ceits: they  may  learn  to  imitate  the  lan- 
guage of  an  experienced  christian;  but  they 
know  not  what  they  say,  nor  whereof  they 
affirm,  and  are  as  distant  from  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  terms,  as  a  blind  man  who  pro- 
nounces the  words  blue  or  red,  is  from  the 
ideas  which  those  words  raise  in  the  minds  of 
a  person  who  can  dibtinguish  colours  by  his 
sight.  And  from  hence  we  may  mler  the 
sovereignty  as  well  as  the  efficacy  of  grace; 
since  it  is  evident,  not  only  that  the  objective 
light,  the  word  of  God,  is  not  aflfbrded  uni- 
versally to  all  men  ;  but  that  those  who  en- 
joy the  same  outward  means  have  not  all  the 
same  perceptions.  There  are  many  who 
stumble  in  the  noon-day,  not  for  want  of  light 
but  for  want  of  eyes;  and  they  who  now  see, 
were  once  blind  even  as  others,  and  had  nei- 
ther power  nor  will  to  enlighten  their  own 
minds.  It  is  a  mercy,  however,  when  peo- 
ple are  so  far  sensible  of  their  own  blindness 
as  to  be  willing  to  wait  for  the  manifestation 
of  the  Lord's  power,  in  the  ordinances  of  his 
appointment.  He  came  into  the  world,  and 
he  sends  forth  his  gospel,  that  those  who  see 
not  may  see;  and  when  there  is  a  desire 
raised  in  the  heart  for  spiritual  sight,  it  shall 
in  his  due  time  be  answered. 

From  hence  likewise  we  may  observe  the 
proper  use  and  value  of  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel,  which  is  the  great  instrument  by 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  opens  the  blind  eyes. 
Like  the  rod  of  Moses,  it  owes  all  its  efficacy 
to  the  appointment  and  promises  of  God. 
Ministers  cannot  be  too  earnest  in  the  dis- 


160 


ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  POVERTY. 


[let.  XX  il 


charjre  of  their  office;  it  behoves  them  to  use 
all  (liVi'Tcncc  to  find  out  acceptable  words,  and 
to  proclaim  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  Yet 
when  they  have  done  all,  they  have  done  no- 
thinnc,  unless  their  word  is  accouipanied  to  the 
heart  by  the  power  and  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit.  Without  this  blessing;-,  an  apostle  mii^ht 
labour  in  vain:  but  it  shall  be  in  a  measure 
afforded  to  all  who  preacli  the  truth  in  love, 
in  simplicity,  and  in  an  humble  dependence 
upon  liim  who  alone  can  f^ive  success.  This, 
in  a  g-reat  measure,  puts  all  faithful  ministers 
on  a  level,  notwithstanding  any  seeming-  dis- 
parity in  gifts  and  abilities.  Those  who  have 
a  lively  and  pathetic  talent  may  engage  the 
car,  and  raise  the  natural  passions  of  their 
hearers ;  but  they  cannot  reach  the  heart. 
The  blessing  may  be  rather  expected  to  at- 
tend the  humble  than  the  voluble  speaker. 

Further  w  may  remark,  that  there  is  a 
difference  in  kind,  between  the  highest  at- 
tainments of  nature,  and  the  effects  of  grace 
in  the  lowest  degree.  Many  are  convinced, 
who  are  not  truly  enlightened;  are  afraid  of 
the  consequences  of  sin,  though  they  never 
saw  its  evil ;  have  a  seeming  desire  of  salva- 
tion, which  is  not  founded  upon  a  truly  spi- 
ritual discovery  of  their  own  wretchedness, 
and  the  excellency  of  Jesus,  These  may, 
for  a  season,  hear  the  word  with  joy,  and 
walk  in  the  way  of  professors ;  but  we  need 
not  be  surprised  if  they  do  not  hold  out,  for 
they  have  not  root.  Though  many  shall  fall, 
the  foundation  of  God  still  standeth  sure. 
We  may  confidently  affirm,  upon  the  war- 
rant of  scripture,  that  they  who,  having  for 
awhile  escaped  the  pollutions  of  the  world, 
are  again  habitually  entangled  in  them,  or 
who,  hiving  been  distressed  upon  the  ac- 
count of  sin,  can  find  relief  in  a  self-righteous 
course,  and  stop  short  of  Christ,  "who  is  the 
end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one 
that  believeth ;"  we  may  affirm,  that  these, 
whatever  profession  they  may  have  made, 
were  never  capable  of  receiving  the  beauty 
and  glory  of  the  gospel-salvation.  On  the 
other  hand,  though  where  the  eyes  are  di- 
vinely enlightened,  the  soul's  first  views  of 
itself  and  of  the  gospel  may  be  confused  and 
indistinct,  like  him  who  saw  men,  as  it  were 
trees  walking;  yet  this  light  is  like  the 
dawn,  which,  though  weak  and  faint  at  its 
first  appearance,  shineth  more  and  more  un- 
to the  perfect  day.  It  is  the  work  of  God  ; 
and  his  work  is  perfect  in  kind,  though  pro- 
gressive in  the  manner.  He  will  not  despise 
or  forsake  the  day  of  small  things.  When 
ho  thus  begins,,  he  will  make  an  end ;  and 
such  persons,  however  feeble,  pcor,  and 
worthless,  in  their  own  apprehensions,  if  thoy 
ha.'o  ohtained  a  glimpse  of  the  Redeemer's 
glory,  as  he  is  nnde  unto  us,  of  God,  wisdom, 
right-^ousness,  sanctification,  and  redemotion, 
so  that  his  nimc  is  precious,  and  the  de^^ire 
of  their  hearts  is  towards  him,  hive  good 


reason  to  hope  and  believe,  as  the  wife  of 
Manoah  did  in  a  similar  case,  that  if  the 
Lord  had  been  pleased  to  kill  them,  he  would 
not  have  showed  them  such  things  as  these. 
Once  more,  this  spiritual  sight  and  faculty 
is  that  which  may  be  principally  considered 
as  inherent  in  a  believer.  He  has  no  stock 
of  grace,  or  comfort,  or  strength,  in  himself. 
He  needs  continual  supplies  ;  and  if  the  Lord 
withdraws  from  him,  he  is  as  weak  and  un- 
skilful, after  he  has  been  long  engaged  in 
the  christian  warfare,  as  he  was  when  he 
first  entered  upon  it.  The  eye  is  of  little 
present  use  in  the  dark;  for  it  cannot  see 
without  light.  But  the  return  of  light  is  no 
advantage  to  a  blind  man.  A  believer  may 
be  much  in  the  dark;  but  his  spiritual  sight 
remains.  Though  the  exercise  of  grace  may 
be  low,  he  knows  himself,  he  knows  the 
Lord,  he  knows  the  way  of  access  to  a  throne 
of  grace.  His  frames  and  feelings  may  alter ; 
but  he  has  received  such  a  knowledge  of 
the  person  and  offices,  the  power  and  grace, 
of  Jesus  the  Saviour,  as  cannot  be  taken  from 
him ;  and  could  withstand  even  an  angel  that 
should  preach  another  gospel,  because  he  has 
seen  the  Lord. — The  paper  constrains  me 
to  break  off.  May  the  Lord  increase  his 
light  in  your  heart,  and  in  the  heart  of,  &g. 


LETTER  XXn. 

On  the  Advantages  of  a  State  of  Poverty. 

MY  DEAR  FRiEXD, — I  confess  myself  almost 
ashamed  to  write  to  you.  You  are  pinched 
by  poverty,  suffer  the  want  of  many  things, 
and  your  faith  is  often  sharply  tried,  when 
you  look  at  your  family,  and,  perhaps,  can 
hardly  conceive  how  you  shall  be  able  to 
supply  them  with  bread  to  the  end  of  the 
week.  The  Lord  has  appointed  me  a  differ- 
ent lot,  I  am  favoured,  not  only  \vith  the 
necessaries,  but  with  the  comforts  of  life. 
Now,  I  could  easily  give  you  plenty  of  good 
advice ;  I  could  tell  you,  it  is  your  duty  to  be 
patient,  and  even  thankful,  in  the  low'est 
state  ;  that  if  you  have  bread  and  water,  it  is 
more  than  you  deserve  at  the  lord's  hands ; 
and  that,  as  you  are  out  of  hell,  and  made  a 
partaker  of  the  hope  of  the  gospel,  you  ought 
not  to  think  any  thing  hard  that  you  meet 
with  in  the  way  of  heaven.  If  I  should  say 
thus,  and  say  no  more,  you  would  not  dispute 
the  truth  of  my  assertions;  but,  as  coming 
from  me,  who  live  at  ease,  to  you,  who  are 
beset  with  difficulties,  you  might  question 
their  propriety,  and  think  that  I  kiiow  but  little 
of  my  own  heart,  and  could  feel  but  little  for 
your  distress.  You  would  probably  compare 
me  to  one  who  should  think  himself  a  mari- 
ner, bccan?e  he  has  studied  lije  art  of  navi- 
gation by  the  fireside,  though  ho  had  never 


LEI*.   XXII. 


ON  Tin:  .\I)VANTAGKS  OF  POVJCRTV. 


191 


seen  tho  sea.  Yet  1  hope,  by  my  frequent 
t*onvorj*e  with  tho  l/)nr.s  jkhip  (for  I  live  in 
the  midst  of  an  atlhotfil  uiid  iKM)r  pooph',)  I 
linvo  iimdo  soiiH'  ol>s(>rvutioiis,  which,  ihouifh 
jiot  strictly  tho  fruit  of  my  own  experience, 
may  not  hi»  wliolly  unseasonable  or  uimccept- 
able  to  you. 

Whi.'ther  the  rich  or  the  poor,  who  live 
without  (lod  in  tho  world,  are  most  to  be 
pitied  is  not  easy  to  determine.  It  is  a 
dreadful  case  to  be  miserable  in  both  worlds; 
but  yet  tho  parade  and  seeminjjf  prosperity  in 
which  some  live  for  a  few  years,  will  bo  no 
abatement,  but  rather  a  g^reat  anf<jravation, 
of  their  future  torment  A  madman  is  equally 
to  be  pitied,  whether  he  is  laid  upon  a  bed  of 
istate,  or  a  bed  of  straw.  Madness  is  in  the 
licart  of  every  unreorenerate  sinner;  and  the 
more  he  possesses  of  this  world's  g-oods,  he  is 
so  much  the  more  extensively  misciiievous. 
Poverty  is  so  far  a  neg'ative  good  to  those 
who  have  no  other  restraint,  that  it  confines 
the  effects  of  the  evil  heart  within  narrower 


The  rich  Imvn  many  friondn;  tho  poor  aro 
usually  despi.sed.  Ihit  1  am  H|M>ukin|(  uf  that 
honour  which  comet h  from  (iod  (juiy.  'i'he 
|)<M)r,  who  are  "  rich  in  faith,  and  lieirM  of  th«! 
kiu;|dom,"  are  lionoure<l  with  the  ncnrctit 
external  conformity  to  Jesus,  th<'ir  Saviour, 
who,  though  he  was  lx)rd  of  all,  was  ph-a.sed, 
for  our  sakes,  to  make  fiimself  so  jXKjr,  that 
he  had  not  where  to  lay  his  liead,  and  sub- 
mitted to  receive  assistance  from  the  con- 
tributions of  his  followers,  Luke  viii.  li.  By 
this  astonishing  humiliation,  he  poured  con- 
tempt upon  all  human  glory,  and  made  the 
state  of  {xjverty  honourable:  and  now,  "he 
that  reproacheth  the  poor,  despiseth  his 
Maker."  And  as  he  was,  so  were  his  apos- 
tles in  this  world.  They  were  not  only  des- 
titute of  rank,  titles,  and  estates,  but  were 
often  in  hunger  and  nakedness,  and  had  no 
certain  dwelling  place.  To  infer  from  hence 
as  some  have  done,  that  riches,  and  the  ac- 
commodations of  life,  are  unsuitable  to  the 
state  of  a  christian,  is  the  mark  of  a  super- 


bounds,  and  the  small  circle  of  their  imme-   stitious  and  legal   spirit.     There  were,  in 


diate  connexions;  whereas  the  rich,  who 
live  under  the  power  of  sin,  are  unfaithful 
stewards  of  a  larger  trust,  and,  by  their 
pernicious  influence,  are  often  instrumental 
in  diffusing  profaneness  and  licentiousness 
through  a  country  or  a  kingdom,  besides  the 
innumerable  acts  of  oppression,  and  the  rava- 
ges of  war,  which  are  perpetrated  to  gratify 


those  days,  several  believers  that  were  in 
a  state  of  affluence ;  as,  for  instance,  The- 
ophilus,  whom  Luke  addresses  by  a  title  of 
honour,  xp>T.<rT,  (most  noble,  or  excellent,) 
the  same  which  St.  Paul  a.scribes  to  the 
Roman  governor.  But  we  may  safely  infer, 
that  that  state  of  life  in  which  our  I^rd  was 
pleased  to  converse  with  men,  and   which 


the  insatiable  demands  of  luxury,  ambition,  i  was  the  lot  of  his  apostles,  and  most  favoured 
and  pride.  But  to  leave  this,  if  we  turn  our  ;  servants,  is  honourable  in  the  sight  of  God. 
eyes  from  the  false  maxims  of  the  world,  and  I  Again,  poverty  is  honourable,  because  it 
"weigh  things  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary,  I  affords  a  peculiar  advantage  for  glorifying 
I  believe  we  shall  find  that  the  believing  '  God,  and  evidencing  the  power  of  his  grace, 
poor,  though  they  have  many  trials  which  and  the  faithfulness  of  his  promises,  in  the 
call  for  our  compassion,  have  some  advanta-  j  sight  of  men.  A  believer,  if  rich,  lives  by 
ges  above  those  of  the  Lord's  people  to  whom  j  faith,  and  his  faith  meets  with  various  trials, 
he  has  given  a  larger  share  of  the  good  things  I  He  himself  knows  by  whom  he  stands ;  but  it 
of  the  present  life.  Why  else  does  the  ;  is  not  ordinarily  so  visible  toothers,  as  in  the 
apostle  say,  "  God  has  chosen  the  poor  T'  or  '  case  of  the  poor.  When  ministers  speak  of 
why  do  we  see,  in  fact,  that  so  few  of  the  rich  !  the  all-sufficiency  of  God  to  those  who  trust 
or  wise,  or  mighty  are  called  ]  Certainly  he  in  him,  and  the  certain  effect  of  the  princi- 
does  not  choose  them  because  they  are  poor;  pies  of  the  gospel,  in  supporting,  satisfying, 
for  "he  is  no  respecter  of  persons:"  rather,  I  i  and  regulating  the  mind  of  man,  the  poor 
think,  we  may  say,  that  knowing  what  is   are  the  best  and  most  unsuspected  witnesses 


m  their  hearts,  the  nature  of  the  world 
through  which  they  are  to  pass,  and  what 
circumstances  are  best  suited  to  manifest 
the  truth  and  efficacy  of  his  grace,  he  has, 
in  the  general,  chosen  poverty  as  the  best 
state  for  them.  Some  exceptions  he  has 
made  that  his  people  may  not  be  wholly 
without  support  and  countenance,  and  that 
the  sufficiency  of  his  grace  may  be  made 
known  in  every  state  of  life ;  but,  for  the 
most  part,  they  are  a  poor  and  afflicted  peo- 
ple ;  and  in  this  appointment  he  has  had  a  re- 
gard to  their  honour,  their  safety,  and  their 
comfort.  I  have  room  but  for  a  very  brief 
illustration  of  these  particulars. 

Sanctified  poverty  is  an  honourable  state : 
not  so,  indeed,  in  the  judgment  of  the  world. 


for  the  truth  of  their  doctrine.  If  we  are 
asked.  Where  do  these  wonderful  people 
live,  who  can  delight  themselves  in  God, 
esteem  a  day  in  his  courts  better  than  a  thou- 
sand, and  prefer  the  light  of  his  countenance 
to  all  earthly  joy  ?  we  can  confidently  send 
them  to  the'poor  of  the  flock.  Amongst  the 
number  who  are  so  called,  there  are  some 
who  will  not  disappoint  our  appeal.  Let  the 
world,  who  refuse  to  believe  the  preachers, 
believe  their  own  eyes;  and  when  they  see 
a  poor  person  content,  thankful,  rr;oicing, 
admiring  the  Lord's  goodness  for  aiibrding 
him  what  they  account  hard  fare,  and,  in 
the  midst  of  various  pressures,  incapable  of 
being  bribed  by  offers,  or  terrified  by  threats, 
to  swerve  a  step  from  the  path  of  known 


1G2 


ON  T^EE  ADVANTAGES  OF  POVERTY. 


[let.  XXII. 


duty,  let  them  acknowledg-e  that  this  is  the 
finder  of  God.  If  they  harden  themselves 
ag'ainst  tliis  evidence,  "  neither  would  they 
be  persuaded,  thougli  one  should  arise  from 
tlie  dead." 

And  as  poverty  is  an  honourable,  so  it  is 
comparatively  a  safe  state.  True,  it  is  at- 
tended with  its  peculiar  temptations;  but  it 
is  not  near  so  suitable  to  draw  forth  and 
nourish  the  two  grand  corruptions  of  the 
heart,  self-importance,  and  an  idolatrous 
cleaving  to  the  world,  as  the  opposite  state 
of  riches.  They  who  are  rich  in  this  world, 
and  who  know  the  Lord  and  their  own  hearts, 
feel  the  wisdom  and  propriety  of  the  apostle's 
charge,  "Xot  to  be  high-minded,  nor  to 
trust  in  uncertain  riches."  If  poor  believers 
consider  the  snares  to  which  their  brethren 
are  exposed,  they  will  rather  pray  for  and 
pity,  than  envy  them.  Their  path  is  slip- 
pery; they  have  reason  to  cry  continually, 
"Hold  thou  me  up,  and  I  shall  be  safe;"  for 
they  live  in  the  midst  of  the  hurries  and 
vanities  of  the  world,  are  engaged  in  a  large 
sphere  of  action,  and  are  incessantly  ex- 
posed to  interruptions  and  snares.  The  car- 
riage of  all  around  them  reminds  them  of 
their  supposed  consequence ;  and,  by  the 
nature  of  their  situation,  they  are  greatly 
precluded  from  plain  dealing  and  friendly 
advice.  But  the  poor  are  not  surrounded 
with  flatterers,  nor  teased  with  impertinen- 
ces. They  meet  with  little  to  stimulate 
their  pride,  or  to  soothe  their  vanity.  They 
not  only  believe  in  their  judgments,  but  are 
constrained  to  feel,  by  the  experience  of 
every  day,  that  this  world  cannot  afford  them 
rest.  If  they  have  food  and  raiment,  and 
grace  therewith  to  be  content,  they  have 
reason  to  be  thankful  for  an  exemption  from 
those  splendid  cares  and  delusive  appear- 
ances, which  are  the  inseparable  attendants 
of  wealth  and  worldly  distinction,  and  which, 
if  not  more  burdensome,  are,  humanly  speak- 
ing, much  more  dangerous,  and  greater  im- 
pediments to  the  progress  of  a  spiritual  life, 
than  the  ordinary  trials  of  the  poor. 

The  believing  poor  have  likewise,  for  the 
most  part,  the  advantage  in  point  of  spiritual 
comfort,  and  that  principally  in  two  respects. 
First,  As  they  are  called  to  a  life  of  more  im- 
mediate dependence  upon  the  promise  ana  pro- 
vidence of  God  (having  little  else  to  trust  to,) 
they  have  a  more  direct  and  frequent  experi- 
ence of  his  interposition  in  their  favour.  Oba- 
diah  was  a  servant  of  God,  though  he  lived  in 
the  court  of  Ahab.  He,  doubtless,  had  his  dif- 
ficulties in  such  a  situation  ;  but  he  was  not 
in  want.  He  had  not  only  enough  for  him- 
self in  a  time  of  dearth,  but  was  able  to  im- 
part to  others.  We  may  believe  that  he  well 
knew  he  was  indebted  to  the  lord's  good- 
ness for  his  provision;  but  he  could  hardly 
have  so  sweet,  so  strong,  so  sensible  an 
impression    of  God's   watchful    care    over 


him  as  Elijah  had,  who,  when  he  was  de- 
prived of  all  human  support,  was  statedly 
fed  by  the  ravens.  Such  of  the  Lord's  peo- 
ple who  have  estates  in  land,  or  thousands 
in  the  bank,  will  acknowledge,  that  even 
the  bread  they  eat  is  the  gift  of  the  Lord's 
bounty ;  yet,  having  a  moral  certainty  of  a 
provision  for  life,  1  should  apprehend  that 
they  cannot  exercise  faith  in  the  divine  pro- 
vidence, with  respect  to  their  temporal  sup- 
plies, so  distinctly  as  the  poor,  who,  having 
no  friend  or  resource  upon  earth,  are  neces- 
sitated to  look  immediately  to  their  Father 
who  is  in  heaven,  for  their  daily  bread.  And 
though  it  is  not  given  to  the  world  to  know 
what  an  intercourse  is  carried  on  between 
heaven  and  earth,  nor  with  what  acceptance 
the  prayers  of  the  poor  and  afflicted  enter 
into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  hosts ;  yet  many 
of  them  have  had  such  proofs  of  his  attention, 
wisdom,  faithfulness,  power,  and  love,  in  sup- 
plying their  wants,  and  opening  them  a  way 
of  relief,  when  they  have  been  beset  with 
difficulties  on  all  sides,  as  have  been,  to  them- 
selves at  least,  no  less  certain  and  indisputa- 
ble, I  had  almost  said,  no  less  glorious,  than 
the  miracles  which  he  wrought  for  Israel, 
when  he  divided  the  Red  Sea  before  them, 
and  gave  them  food  from  the  clouds.  Such 
evidences  of  the  power  of  faith,  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  and  the  truth  of  the  scriptures 
(preferable  to  mountains  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  for  which  the  state  of  poverty  furnishes 
the  most  frequent  occasions,)  are  a  rich 
overbalance  for  all  its  inconveniences.  But., 
Secondly,  I  apprehend  that  the  humble 
and  believing  poor  have,  in  general,  the 
greatest  share  of  those  consolations,  which 
are  the  effect  of  the  light  of  God's  counte- 
nance lifted  up  upon  the  soul-,  of  his  love  shed 
abroad  in  the  heart,  or  of  a  season  of  refresh- 
ment from  his  presence.  By  such  expres 
sions  as  these,  the  scriptures  intimate  thai 
"joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory;"  a  de- 
scription of  which,  those  who  have  tasted  it 
will  not  require,  and  those  who  are  strangers 
to  it,  could  not  understand.  This  joy  is  not 
always  the  companion  of  faith,  not  even  of 
strong  faith  ;  but  it  is  that  which  a  believer, 
whether  rich  or  poor,  incessantly  thirsts  af- 
ter; and,  in  comparison  whereof,  all  worldly 
good  is  but  vanity  and  disappointment.  The 
Lord  imparts  this  joy  to  his  people,  in  season 
and  measure,  as  he  sees  fit ;  but  his  poor  peo- 
ple have  the  largest  share.  They  have  lit- 
tle comfort  from  the  world,  therefore  he  is 
pleased  to  be  their  comforter.  They  have 
many  trials  and  sufferings ;  and  he  with 
whom  they  have  to  do,  knows  their  situation 
and  pressures;  he  has  promised  to  make 
their  strength  equal  to  their,  day,  and  to  re- 
vive their  fainting  spirits  with  heavenly  cor- 
dials. When  it  is  thus  with  them,  they  can 
say  with  Jacob,  "I  have  enough;"  or,  as  it 
is  in  tlie  original,  "I  have  all."    This  makes 


LET.  XXIII. 


ON  SIMPLICITY  AND  SINCERITY. 


in:< 


nanl  tliiii;jfs  rasy,  niid  \\\o  lumlcn  Ii;,'liN  wliirli 
tilt;  rtt'sli  would  otiicrwisc  couipliiiii  ot*  u.s 
heavy.  This  Ims  olU'U  ;;iv(M»  a  swt'ftcr  re- 
lish to  bread  iiiid  water,  than  the  s»Mlsuali^t 
ever  found  to  he  ui  tlje  most  .•studied  and  e.x- 
pensive  refiiieiueuts  of  hixury.  iJN\<sed  arc 
the  j)cx)r,  who  are  rirh  in  taith,  and  heira  of 
the  kuii^doin  which  GihI  has  promised  to 
tliem  that  love  him.  Tliey  orten  enjoy  the 
most  lively  foretastes  oftlie  glory  which  sliall 
be  revealed. 

Have  not  you,  niv  friend,  found  these  tiling's 


nary  wants  and  real  Anw/or.^,  and  ^llrm^h•■M 
us  with  tht;  fairest  o|»|M»rtunitir.s  fiir  tin- 
manifestation,  ex<'r<-ise,  and  incrf-asr  of  the 
«,'nM'es  he  luLs  inii)laiited  in  ycni.  —  InMiienred 
by  these  views,  1  trust  you  cin  •  K.  .riniiv 
say, 

What  othoni  vuhio  I  rcHiffii ; 

Lunl,  'U»  enough  lliat  (huu  urt  mine. 

I  connnend  you  to  the  hlossinjf  of  our  co- 
venant (Jod,  and  to  Jesus  our  Saviour,  who, 
when  he  was  rich,  made  him.sclf  poor  for  our 


true  in  your  own  experience  ?  A'es;  the  Lord    sakes,  that  we  througii  his  poverty  might  be 

has  sanctified   your  crosses,  and   supported    rich. — I  am,  &lc. 

you   under  tliem.     Hitherto  he  has  helped 

you,  and  he  will  be  with  you  to  the  end.     As 

you  have  followed  him  upon  eartli,  you  will 

ere  long  follow  him   to   heaven.     You  are 

now  called  to  sow  in  tears  ;  there  you  shall 

reap  in  joy,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all 

tears  from  your  eyes.    In  the  mean  time,  be 

thankful  that  he  honours  you,  in  appointing 

you  to  be  a  witness  for  the  truth  and  power 

of  his  grace,  iii  the  midst  of  an  unbelieving 

world. 

It  is  true,  that  even  where  the   spirit  is 
willing,  the  flesh  is  weak.     Y'ou  have  sharp 


LETTER  XXIII. 
On  Simplicity  and  godly  Sincerity. 


DEAR  SIR, — It  would  be  a  happy  time  if  all 
professors  of  the  gospel  could,  with  the  apos- 
tle, rejoice  in  the  testimony  of  their  con- 
sciences, that  they  walked  in  simplicity  and 
godly  sincerity.  How  many  evils  and  scan- 
^,  _^    dais  would  be  then  prevented  ?  But,  alas !  too 

trials,  which,  for  the  present,  cannot  be  joy- 1  many  who  name  the  name  of  Christ,  seem 
ous,  but  grievous  ;  and  you  have  doubtless  I  to  have  hardly  any  idea  of  this  essential  part 
felt  the  depravity  of  your  nature,  and  the  of  the  christian  character.  A  few  thoughts 
subtilty  of  Satan,  at  some  times  prompting  j  upon  a  subject  so  little  attended  to,  may  not 
you  to  impatience,  envy,  and  distrust.  But '  be  unseasonable.  The  most  advanced  in  the 
these  evils  are  not  peculiar  to  a  state  of  po- 1  christian  life  have  something  of  this  lesson 
verty ;  you  would  have  been  exposed  to  the  yet  to  learn;  and  the  greater  proficiency  we 
same   had   you  lived  in  affluence,  together   make  in  it,  the  greater  will  be  our  inward 


with  many  others,  from  which  you  are  now- 
exempted  ;  for  riches  and  poverty  are  but 
comparative  terms,  and  it  is  only  the  grace 
of  God  that  can  teach  us  to  be  content  in 
any  possible  situation  of  life.  The  rich  are 
as  prone  to  desire  something  w^hich  they  have 
not  as  the  poor ;  and  they  who  have  most  to 
lose  have  most  to  fear.  That  a  man's  life 
(the  happiness  of  his  life)  "  consisteth  not  in 
the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  pos- 
sesseth,"  is  an  aphorism  founded  upon  the 
highest  authority,  and  confirmed  by  miiver- 
sal  experience  and  observation. 

In  a  word,  you  are  not  poor,  but  rich.  The 
promises  are  your  inheritance ;  heaven  is 
your  home ;  tlie  angels  of  the  Lord  are  mi- 
nistering spirits,  who  rejoice  to  watch  over 
you  for  good  ;  and  the  Lord  of  angels  him- 
self is  your  sun,  and  shield,  and  everlasting 
portion.  It  is  impossible  that  you,  to  whom 
he  has  given  Himself,  his  Son,  his  Spirit,  his 
grace,  his  kingdom,  can  w-ant  any  tiling  that 
is  truly  good  for  you.  If  riches  were  so,  he 
could  pour  them  upon  you  in  abundance,  as 
easily  as  he  provides  you  your  daily  bread. 
But  these,  for  the  most  part,  lie  bestows 
on  those  who  have  no  portion  but  in  the 
present  life.  You  have  great  reason  to  re- 
joice in  the  lot  he  has  appointed  for  you, 
which  secures  you  from  numberless  imagi- 


peace,  and  the  more  will  our  light  shine  be- 
fore men,  to  the  glory  of  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther. 

Simplicity  and  sincerity,  though  insepara- 
ble, may  be  distinguished.  The  former  is 
the  principle  from  which  the  latter  is  deriv- 
ed. Simplicity  primarily  respects  the  frame 
of  our  spirit  in  the  sight  of  God  ;  sincerity 
more  directly  regards  our  conduct  as  it  falls 
under  the  observation  of  men.  It  is  true, 
the  terms  are  frequently  used  indifferently 
for  each  other,  and  may  be  so  without  occa- 
sioning any  considerable  mistake;  but  as 
they  are  not  precisely  the  same,  it  may  be 
proper,  if  we  would  speak  accurately,  to 
keep  this  distinction  in  view. 

Some  persons  who  have  been  more  ena- 
moured with  the  name  of  simplicity,  than 
acquainted  with  its  nature,  have  substituted 
in  its  stead  a  childishness  of  language  and 
manners,  as  if  they  understood  the  word  sim- 
ple only  in  the  mere  vulgar  sense,  as  equiva- 
lent to  foolish.  But  this  infantine  softness 
gives  just  disgust  to  those  who  have  a  true 
taste  and  judgment  of  divine  things;  not 
only  as  it  is  an  unnecessary  deviation  from 
the  common  usages  of  mankind,  but  because, 
being  the  effect  of  art  and  imitation,  it  palpa- 
bly defeats  its  own  pretences.  An  artificial, 
or  affected  simplicity,  is  a  contradiction  in 


164 


ON  SIMPLICITY  AND  SINCERITY. 


terms,  and  difTers  as  mucli  from  tho  simpli- 
city of  the  g"ospol,  as  paint  does  from  beauty. 

The  true  simplicity,  which  is  the  honour 
and  streng-th  of  a  believer,  is  the  effect  of  a 
spiritual  perception  of  the  truths  of  the  f^os- 
pel.  It  arises  from,  and  bears  a  proportion 
to,  the  sense  we  have  of  our  own  unworthi- 
ness,  the  power  and  g-race  of  Christ,  and  the 
greatness  of  our  oblig-ations  to  him.  So  far 
as  our  knowlcdf^e  of  these  things  is  vital  and 
experimental,  it  will  make  us  simple-hearted. 
Tliis  simplicity  may  be  considered  in  two  re- 
spects,— a  simplicity  of  intention,  and  a  sim- 
plicity of  dependence.  The  former  stands  in 
opposition  to  the  corrupt  workings  of  self, 
the  latter  to  the  false  reasonings  of  unbelief 

Simplicity  of  intention  implies,  that  we 
have  but  one  leading  aim,  to  which  it  is  our 
deliberate  and  unreserved  desire,  that  every 
thing  else  in  which  we  are  concerned  may 
be  subordinate  and  subservient ;  in  a  word, 
that  we  are  devoted  to  the  Lord,  and  have, 
by  grace,  been  enabled  to  choose  him,  and  to 
yield  ourselves  to  him,  so  as  to  place  our 
happiness  in  his  favour,  and  to  make  his 
glory  and  will  the  ultimate  scope  of  all  our 
actions.  He  well  deserves  this  from  us.  He 
is  the  all-sufficient  good.  He  alone  is  able  to 
satisfy  the  vast  capacity  he  has  given  us  ;  for 
he  formed  us  for  himself:  and  they  who  have 
tasted  that  he  is  gracious,  know  that  his  "  lov- 
ing-kindness is  better  than  life ;"  and  that 
his  presence  and  fulness  can  supply  the  want, 
or  make  up  the  loss  of  all  creature-comforts. 
So  likewise,  he  has  a  just  claim  to  us  that 
we  should  be  wholly  his ;  for  besides  that,  as 
his  creatures,  we  are  in  his  hand  as  clay  in 
the  hands  of  the  potter,  he  has  a  redemption 
title  to  us.  He  loved  us,  and  bought  us  with 
his  own  blood.  He  did  not  hesitate  or  halt 
between  two  opinions,  when  he  engaged  to 
redeem  our  souls  from  the  curse  of  the  law, 
and  the  power  of  Satan.  He  could,  in  the 
hour  of  his  distress,  have  summoned  legions 
of  angels,  had  that  been  needful,  to  his  assist- 
ance, or  have  destroyed  his  enemies  with  a 
word  or  a  look ;  he  could  easily  have  saved 
himself:  but  how  then  could  his  people  have 
been  saved,  or  the  promises  of  the  scriptures 
have  been  fulfilled  ]  Therefore  he  willingly 
endured  the  cross,  he  gave  his  back  to  the 
smiters,  he  poured  out  his  blood,  he  laid 
down  his  life.  Here  was  an  adorable  sim- 
plicity of  intention  in  him  ;  and  shall  we  not, 
O  thou  lover  of  souls,  be  simply,  heartily, 
and  wholly  thine  ]  Shall  we  refuse  the  cup  of 
affliction  from  thy  hand,  or  for  thy  sake  ?  Or 
shall  we  desire  to  drink  of  the  cup  of  sinful 
pleasure,  when  wo  remember  what  our  sins 
have  cost  thee  ]  Shall  we  wish  to  be  loved 
by  the  world  that  hated  thee,  or  to  be  admired 
by  the  world  that  despised  thee  ?  Shall  we 
be  ashamed  of  professing  our  attachment  to 
Bucii  a  Saviour  1  Nay,  Lord,  forbid  it.  Let 
Ihy  love  constrain  us,  let  thy  name  be  glori- 


[let.  xxrii. 


fied,  and  thy  will  be  done  by  us  and  in  us. 
Let  us  count  all  things  loss  and  dung  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus 
our  Lord.  Let  us  not  desire  any  thing  thou 
seest  fit  to  withhold,  nor  repine  to  part  with 
what  thou  callest  for ;  nor  even  take  plea- 
sure in  what  thou  bestowest,  unless  we  can 
improve  it  for  thee,  and  ever  prefer  thy  love 
above  our  chief  temporal  joy !  Such  is  the 
language  of  the  heart  that  is  blessed  with 
gospel  simplicity.  It  was  once  the  strong- 
hold of  sin,  the  throne  of  self:  but  now  self 
is  cast  down,  and  Jesus  rules  by  the  golden 
sceptre  of  love.  This  principle  preserves 
the  soul  from  low,  sordid,  and  idolatrous  pur- 
suits, will  admit  of  no  rival  near  the  Beloved, 
nor  will  it  yield  either  to  the  bribes  or  threats 
of  the  world. 

There  is  likewise  a  simplicity  of  depend- 
ence. Unbelief  is  continually  starting  ob- 
jections, magnifying  and  multiplying  diffi- 
culties. But  faith  in  the  power  and  promises 
of  God,  inspires  a  noble  simplicity,  and  casts 
every  care  upon  him,  who  is  able,  and  has 
engaged  to  support  and  provide.  Thus,  when 
Abraham,  at  the  Lord's  call,  forsook  his  coun- 
try and  his  father's  house,  the  apostle  observes, 
"He  went  out,  not  knowing  whither  he 
went."  It  was  enough  that  he  knew  whom 
he  followed.  The  all-sufficient  God  was  his 
guide,  his  shield,  and  his  exceeding  great 
reward.  So,  when  exercised  with  long  wait- 
ing for  the  accomplishment  of  the  promise, 
he  staggered  not,  cv  J.ixfo/,  he  did  not  dis- 
pute or  question,  but  simply  depended  upon 
God,  who  had  spoken  and  was  able  also  to 
perform.  So  likewise,  when  he  received  that 
hard  command,  to  offer  up  his  son,  of  whom 
it  was  said,  "  In  Isaac  shall  thy  seed  be  call- 
ed," he  simply  obeyed,  and  depended  upon 
the  Lord  to  make  good  his  own  word,  Heb. 
xi.  17,  18,  19.  In  this  spirit  David  went 
forth  to  meet  Goliah,  and  overcame  him ;  and 
thus  the  three  worthies  were  unawed  by  the 
threats  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  rather  chose 
to  be  cast  into  a  burning  furnace,  than  to 
sin  against  the  Lord.  And  thus  Elijah,  in  a 
time  of  famine,  was  preserved  from  anxiety 
and  want,  and  supported  by  extraordinary 
methods,  1  Kings  xvii.  4,  C,  14.  In  these 
times  we  do  not  expect  miracles,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  but  they  who  simply  de- 
pend upon  the  Lord,  will  meet  with  such 
tokens  of  his  interposition  in  a  time  of  need, 
as  will,  to  themselves  at  least,  be  a  satisfy- 
ing proof  that  he  careth  for  them.  Howcom- 
Ibrtable  is  it  to  us,  as  well  as  ornamental  to 
our  profession,  to  be  able  to  trust  the  Lord 
in  the  path  of  duty ;  to  believe  that  he  will 
supply  our  wants,  direct  our  steps,  plead  our 
cause,  and  control  our  enemies  I  Thus  he 
has  promised,  and  it  belongs  to  gospel-simpli- 
city to  take  his  word  against  all  discourage- 
ments. This  w411  animate  us  in  the  use  of 
all  lawful  means,  because  the  Lord  has  com- 


Lrr.  XXIV. J 


ON  COMMUNION  WITH  (JOI). 


166 


mantled  us  to  wait  ujxiu  liiiii  in  thom;  but  it 
will  likt'wirfo  inspire  oonfidoncf  and  ho|M» 
when  all  means  seem  to  fail,  lleb.  iii.  17,  l!S. 
For  want  ot'this  dependcnee,  many  dishonour 
tlieir  profession,  and  even  make  shipwreek 
oflhe  tUith.  Their  hearts  are  not  simple; 
they  do  not  trust  in  the  lA)rd,  hut  lean  unto 
their  own  unilerstandin<,'s,  and  their  hoj)es 
or  tears  are  influenced  by  worms  like  them- 
selves. This  causes  a  duplicity  of  conduct. 
They  fear  the  lA)rd  and  serve  other  «i^ods. 
By  tiieir  laniruaije,  at  some  times,  one  would 
Bup{X)se,  they  desire  to  serve  the  lx)rd  only  ; 
but,  as  if"  they  feared  that  he  was  not  able  to 
protect  or  provide  for  them,  they  make  a 
league  with  the  world,  and  seek  either  secu- 
rity or  advantage  from  sinful  compliances. 
Tfiese  cannot  rejoice  in  the  testimony  of  a 
good  conscience.  They  must  live  miserably. 
They  are  attempting  to  reconcile  what  our 
Lord  has  declared  to  be  utterly  incompatible, 
the  service  of  God  and  mammon.  They  have 
so  much  sense  of  religion  as  embitters  their 
worldly  pursuits;  and  so  much  regard  to  tiie 
world  as  prevents  their  receiving  any  real 
comfort  from  religion.  These  are  the  luke- 
warm professors,  neither  hot  nor  cold ;  nei- 
ther approved  of  men  nor  accepted  of  God. 
They  can  attend  upon  ordinances,  and  speak 
like  christians;  but  tlieir  tempers  are  un- 
sanctified,  and  their  conduct  irregular  and 
blamable.  They  are  not  simple ;  and  there- 
fore they  cannot  be  sincere, 

I  need  not  take  time  to  prove,  that  the  ef- 
fect of  simplicity  will  be  sincerity.  For 
they  who  love  the  Lord  above  all,  who  pre- 
fer the  light  of  his  countenance  to  thousands 
of  gold  and  silver,  who  are  enabled  to  trust 
him  with  all  their  concerns,  and  would  rather 
be  at  his  disposal  than  at  their  own,  will  have 
but  little  temptation  to  insincerity.  The 
principles  and  motives  upon  which  their  con- 
duct is  formed,  are  the  same  in  public  as  in 
private.  Their  behaviour  will  be  all  of  a 
piece,  because  they  have  but  one  design. 
They  will  speak  the  truth  in  love,  observe  a 
strict  punctuality  in  their  dealings,  and  do 
mito  others  as  they  would  have  others  should 
do  unto  them ;  because  these  things  are  es- 
sential to  their  great  aim  of  glorifying  and 
enjoying  their  Lord.  A  fear  of  dishonouring 
his  name,  and  of  grieving  his  Spirit,  will 
teach  them  not  only  to  avoid  gross  and  known 
sins,  but  to  abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil.  Their  conduct  will  therefore  be  con- 
sistent ;  and  they  will  be  enabled  to  appeal 
to  all  who  know  them,  "that  in  simplicity 
and  godly  sincerity,  not  in  fleshly  wisdom, 
but  by  the  grace  of  God,  they  have  had  their 
conversation  in  the  world." 

To  a  sincere  christian,  that  crafl  and  cun- 
ning which  passes  for  wisdom  in  the  world, 
appears  to  be  not  only  unlawful  but  un- 
necessary. He  has  no  need  of  the  little  re- 
serves, evasions,  and  disguises,  by  which  de- 


signing men  endeavour  (though  often  in  vnin) 
to  conceal  their  pro|M'r  chanicterH,  and  to 
escape  deserved  contempt.  He  iH  what  ho 
seems  to  h«',  and  therefore  in  not  afniid  of 
being  found  out.  He  walks  by  the  light  of 
the  wisdom  that  is  from  above,  and  leunn 
upon  the  arm  of  almighty  jKjvver:  therefore 
he  walks  at  liberty,  trusting  in  the  Lord, 
whom  he  serves  with  his  spirit  in  the  gospel 
of  his  Son. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIV. 
On  Communion  with  God. 

DEAR  SIR, — Though  many  authors  have 
written  largely  and  well  concerning  com- 
munion with  God,  I  shall  not  refer  you  to 
books,  or  have  recourse  to  them  myself;  but 
in  compliance  with  your  request,  shall  simply 
otler  you  what  occurs  to  my  thoughts  upon 
the  subject.  I  propose  not  to  exceed  the 
limits  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  must  there- 
fore come  immediately  to  the  point. 

That  God  is  to  be  worshiped,  is  generally 
acknowledged;  but  that  they  who  worship 
him  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  have  real  friendship 
and  communion  with  him,  is  known  only 
to  themselves.  The  world  can  neither  un- 
derstand nor  believe  it.  Many  who  would 
not  be  thought  to  have  cast  off  all  reverence 
for  the  scriptures,  and  therefore  do  not  choose 
flatly  to  contradict  the  apostle's  testimony, 
1  John  i.  3,  attempt  to  evade  its  force  by  re- 
straining it  to  the  primitive  times.  They 
will  allow  that  it  might  be  so  then;  but  they 
pretend  that  circumstances  with  us  are 
greatly  altered.  Circumstances  are,  indeed, 
altered  with  us,  so  far,  that  men  may  now 
pass  for  christians  wiio  confess  and  manifest 
themselves  strangers  to  the  Spirit  of  Christ: 
but  who  can  believe  that  the  very  nature 
and  design  of  Christianity  should  alter  in  the 
course  of  time  ]  And  that  communion  with 
God,  which  was  essential  to  it  in  the  apos- 
tles, days,  should  now  be  so  unnecessary  and 
impracticable,  as  to  expose  all  who  profess 
an  acquaintance  with  it,  to  the  charge  of 
enthusiasm  and  folly  !  However,  they  who 
have  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious,  w-ill 
not  be  disputed  out  of  their  spiritual  senses. 
If  they  are  competent  judges  whether  they 
ever  saw  the  light,  or  felt  the  beams  of  the 
sun,  they  are  no  less  certain  that,  by  the 
knowledge  of  the  gospel,  they  are  brought 
into  a  state  of  communion  with  God. 

Communion  presupposes  union.  By  nature 
we  are  strangers,  yea,  enemies  to  God  ;  but 
we  are  reconciled,  brought  nigh,  and  become 
his  children  by  faith  in  Christ  Jesus.  We 
can  have  no  true  knowledge  of  God,  desire 
towards  him,  access  unto  Him,  or  gracious 
communications  from  him,  but  in  and  through 
the  Son  of  his  love.     He  is  the  medium  of 


166 


ON  COMMUNION  WITH  GOD. 


[let.  XXIV. 


tins  inestimable  privilej^e  ;  for  he  is  the  way, 
the  only  way  of  intercourse  between  heaven 
and  earth;  the  sinner's  way  to  God,  and  God's 
way  of  mercy  to  the  sinner.  If  any  pretend 
to  know  God,  and  to  have  communion  with 
him,  otherwise  than  by  the  knowledge  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  whom  he  hath  sent,  and  by  faith 
in  his  name,  it  is  a  proof  that  they  neither 
know  God  nor  themselves.  God,  if  considered 
abstracted  from  the  revelation  of  himself  in 
the  person  of  Jesus,  is  a  consuming  fire ;  and 
if  he  should  look  upon  us  without  respect  to 
his  covenant  of  mercy  established  in  the  Me- 
diator, we  could  expect  nothing  from  him 
but  indignation  and  wrath.  But  when  his 
Holy  Spirit  enables  us  to  receive  the  record 
which  he  has  given  of  his  Son,  we  are  de- 
livered and  secured  from  condemnation:  we 
are  accepted  in  the  Beloved ;  we  are  united 
to  him  in  whom  all  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head substantially  dwells,  and  all  the  riches 
of  divine  wisdom,  power,  and  love,  are  trea- 
sured up.  Thus,  in  him,  as  the  temple  where- 
in the  glory  of  God  is  manifested,  and  by  him, 
as  the  representative  and  high  priest  of  his 
people",  and  through  him,  as  the  living  head 
of  his  mystical  body  the  church,  believers 
maintain  communion  with  God.  They  have 
meat  to  eat  which  the  world  knows  not  of, 
honour  which  cometh  of  God  only,  joy  which 
a  stranger  intermeddletli  not  with.  They 
are,  for  the  most  part,  poor  and  afflicted,  fre- 
quently scorned  and  reproached,  accounted 
hypocrites  or  visionaries,  knaves  or  fools :  but 
this  one  thing  makes  amends  for  all,  "  They 
have  fellowship  with  the  Father,  and  with 
his  Son,  Jesus  Christ." 

I  would  observe  further,  that  as  the  incar- 
nation of  that  mighty  One,  on  whom  our  help 
is  laid,  was  necessary,  that  a  perfect  obedi- 
ence to  the  law,  and  a  complete  and  proper 
atonement  for  sin,  might  be  accomplished 
in  the  human  nature  that  had  sinned,  and 
fallen  short  of  the  glory  of  God ;  so  in  another 
view  it  affords  us  unspeakable  advantage  for 
our  comfortable  and  intimate  communion 
with  God  by  him.  The  adorable  and  aw- 
ful perfections  of  Deity  are  softened,  if  I  may 
so  speak,  and  rendered  more  familiar  and  en- 
gaging to  our  apprehensions,  when  we  con- 
sider them  as  resident  in  him,  who  is  very 
bone  of  our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh ;  and 
who,  having  by  himself  purged  our  sins,  is 
now  seated  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty 
on  high,  and  reigns,  in  the  nature  of  man, 
over  all,  God  blessed  for  ever.  Thus  he  who 
knows  our  frame  by  becoming  man  like  our- 
selves, is  the  supreme  and  ultimate  object  of 
that  philanthropy,  that  hmnan  affection 
which  he  originally  implanted  in  us.  He 
has  made  us  susceptive  of  the  endearments 
of  friendship  and  relative  life ;  and  he  admits 
lis  to  communion  with  himself  under  the 
most  engaging  characters  and  relations,  as 
our  friend,  our  brother,  and  our  husband. 


They  who,  by  that  faith  which  is  of  the 
operation  of  God,  are  thus  united  to  him  in 
Christ,  are  brought  thereby  into  a  state  of 
real   habitual  communion  with  him.     The 
degree  of  its  exercise  and  sensible  percep- 
tion on  our  parts,  is  various  in  different  per- 
sons, and  in  the  same  person   at  different 
times ;  for  it  depends  upon  the  communica- 
tions we  receive  from  the  Lord  the  Spirit, 
who  distributes  to  every  man  severally  ac- 
cording to  his  will,  adjusting  his  dispensa- 
tions with  a  wise  and  merciful  respect  to  our 
present  state  of  discipline.      If  we   were 
wholly  freed  from  the  effects  of  a  depraved 
nature,  the  snares  of  an  evil  world;  and  the 
subtle  temptations  of  Satan,  our  actual  com- 
m,union  with  God  would  be  always  lively, 
sensible,  and   fervent.     It  will  be  thus  in 
heaven :  there  its  exercise  will  be  without 
obstruction,  abatement,  or  interruption.    But 
so  long  as  we  are  liable  to  security,  spiritual 
pride,  indolence,  an  undue   attachment  to 
worldly  things,  and  irregular  distempered 
passions,  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  afford,  in- 
I  crease,  suspend,  or  renew  the  sensible  im- 
1  pressions  of  liis  love  and  grace,  in  such  sea- 
sons and  measures  as  he  sees  most  suitable 
;  to  prevent  or  control  these  evils,  or  to  hum- 
!  ble  us  for  them.     We  grieve  his  Spirit,  and 
he  withdraws;  but,  by  his  secret  power  over 
I  our  hearts,  he  makes  us  sensible  of  our  folly 
'  and  loss,  teaches  us  to  mourn  after  him,  and 
to  entreat  his  return.     These  desires,  which 
:  are  the  effects  of  his  own  grace,  he  answers 
i  in  his  own  time,  and  shines  forth  upon  the 
\  soul  with  healing  in  his  beams.     But  such  is 
I  our  weakness,  and  so  unapt  are  we  to  retain 
!  even  those  lessons  which  we  have  learned,  by 
painful  experience,  that  we  are  prone  to  re- 
peat our  former  miscarriages,  and  to  render 
a  repetition  of  the  same  changes  necessary. 
;  From  hence  it  is,  that  what  we  call  our 
frames  are  so  very  variable,  and  our  com- 
\  fortable  sense  of  divine  communion  is  rather 
I  transient  than  abiding.     But  the  communion 
I  itself,  u|X)n  which  the  life  and  safety  of  our 
souls  depend,  is  never  totally  obstructed ; 
I  nor  can  it  be,  unless  God  should  be  unmind- 
;  ful  of  his  covenant,  and  forsake  the  work  of 
his  o\\'n  hands.     And  when  it  is  not  per- 
ceptible to  sense,  it  may  ordinarily  be  made 
evident  to  faith,  by  duly  comparing  what  we 
read  in  the  scriptures  with  what  passes  in 
our  hearts.     I  say  ordinarily,  because  there 
may  be  some  excepted  cases.     If  a  believer 
is  unhappily  brought  under  the  power  of 
some  knowji  sin,  or  has  grievously  and  no- 
toriously declined  from  his  profession,  it  is 
possible  that  the  Lord  may  hide  himself  be- 
hind so  dark  a  cloud,  and  leave  him  for  a 
while  to  such  hardness  of  heart,  as  that  he 
shall  seem  to  himself  to  be  utterly  destitute 
and  forsaken.     And  the  like  apprehensions 
may  be  formed  under  some  of  Satan's  violent 
temptations,  when  he  is  permitted  to  come 


LET.  XXIV.] 


OX  COMMLMn.N   SMI  11  (iol). 


167 


ill  as  a  flixxl,  and  to  ovrrpowor  tin'  apparent 
e.vrrciso  t)fo\t'ry  ;rraco,  hy  a  torrt'nl  «»!*  bla.s- 
jiluMiious  and  evil  inm«:rinations.  Yot  the 
Ix)rd  is  still  present  with  his  jn^ople  in  the 
darkest  hours,  or  the  unavoidable  event  of 
such  cases  would  ho  u|xjstasy  or  desjMiir. 
Psalm  .\li.  11, 

The  coinniunion  we  speak  of  coiupri.ses 
a  mutual  intercoursp  and  communication  in 
love,  in  counsels,  and  in  interests. 

In  love. — The  lA>rd,  by  his  Spirit,  mani- 
fests and  contirms  his  love  to  his  people. 
For  this  purjxise  ho  meets  them  at  his  throne 
of  «;race,  and  in  his  ordinances.  There  he 
makes  himself  known  unto  them,  as  he  does 
not  unto  the  world ;  causes  his  froodncss  to 
pass  before  them ;  opens,  applies,  and  seals  to 
them  his  exceeding  great  and  precious  pro- 
mises: and  gives  them  the  Spirit  of  adoption, 
whereby,  unworthy  as  they  are,  they  are  ena- 
bled to  cry,  "Abba,  Father."  He  capses  them 
to  understand  that  great  love  wherewith  he 
has  loved  them,  in  redeeming  them  by  price 
and  by  power,  washing  them  from  their  sins 
in  the  blood  of  the  I^mb,  recovering  them 
from  the  dominion  of  Satan,  and  preparing  for 
them  an  everlasting  kingdom,  where  they 
shall  see  his  face,  and  rejoice  in  his  glory. 
The  knowledge  of  this  his  love  to  them,  pro- 
duces a  return  of  love  from  them  to  him. 
They  adore  him  and  admire  him  ;  they  make 
an  unreserved  surrender  of  their  hearts  to 
him.  They  view  him,  and  delight  in  him 
as  their  God,  their  Saviour,  and  their  jwrtion. 
They  account  his  favour  better  than  life.  He 
is  the  sun  of  their  souls :  if  he  is  pleased  to 
shine  upon  them,  all  is  well,  and  they  are  not 
greatly  careful  about  other  things;  but  if  he 
hides  his  face,  the  smiles  of  the  whole  crea- 
tion can  aiford  them  no  solid  comfort.  They 
esteem  one  day  or  hour  spent  in  the  delight- 
ful contemplation  of  his  glorious  excellences, 
and  in  the  expression  of  their  desires  towards 
him,  better  than  a  thousand ;  and  when  their 
love  is  most  fervent,  they  are  ashamed  that 
it  is  so  faint,  and  chide  and  bemoan  them- 
selves, that  they  can  love  him  no  more. 
This  often  makes  them  long  to  depart,  will- 
ing to  leave  their  dearest  earthly  comforts, 
that  they  may  see  him  as  he  is,  without  a 
vail  or  cloud ;  for  they  know  that  then,  and 
not  till  then,  they  shall  love  him  as  they 
ought. 

In  counsels. — The  secret  of  the  Lord  is 
with  them  that  fear  him.  He  deals  fami- 
liarly with  them.  He  calls  them  not  ser- 
vants only,  but  friends ;  and  he  treats  them 
as  friends.  He  affords  them  more  than  pro- 
mises ;  for  he  opens  to  them  the  plan  of  his 
great  designs  from  everlasting  to  everlast- 
ing; shows  them  the  strong  foundations  and 
inviolable  securities  of  his  favour  towards 
them,  the  height,  and  depth,  and  length,  and 
breadthof  his  love,  which  passeth  knowledge, 
and  the  unsearchable  riches  of  his  grace. 


ilo  instructs  them  in  the  mystoriouii  conduct 
of  his  pr«)vid«niT,  thf  niu-^tus  and  rudhof  all 
his  di.'iiM'n.-^ations  in  which  thry  nri'  concrrn- 
ed  ;  and  solves  a  thousand  hard  «|u«'.sti(<nM  to 
their  satisfaction,  which  arc  ine.xplicablo  to 
the  natural  wi.sdom  of  man.  Ilo  trachea 
them  likewi.se  the  beauty  of  his  precept><,  tho 
path  of  their  duty,  and  the  nature  of  their 
warfare.  He  acquaints  them  with  the  plot^ 
of  their  enemies,  the  snares  and  dangers  they 
are  exposed  to,  and  the  best  methods  of 
avoiding  them.  And  he  permits  and  enables 
them  to  acijuaint  him  with  all  their  cares, 
tears,  wants,  and  troubles,  with  more  free- 
dom than  they  can  unbosom  themselves  to 
their  nearest  earthly  friends.  His  ear  ia 
always  open  to  them;  he  is  never  weary 
of  hearing  their  £omplahits,  and  answer- 
ing their  petitions.  The  men  of  the  world 
would  account  it  a  high  honour  and  pri- 
vilege to  have  an  unrestrained  liberty  of 
access  to  an  earthly  king ;  but  what  words 
can  express  the  privilege  and  honour  of  be- 
lievers, who,  whenever  they  please,  have 
audience  of  the  King  of  kings,  whose  com- 
passion, mercy,  and  power,  are  like  his  ma- 
jesty, infinite.  The  world  wonders  at  their 
indifference  to  the  vain  pursuits  and  amuse- 
ments by  which  others  are  engrossed ;  that 
they  are  so  patient  in  trouble,  so  inflexible  in 
their  conduct,  so  well  satisfied  with  that  state 
of  poverty  and  obscurity  which  the  Lord,  for 
the  most  part,  allots  them ;  but  tiie  wonder 
would  cease  if  what  passes  in  secret  were 
publicly  known.  They  have  obtained  the 
pearl  of  great  price;  they  have  communion 
with  God;  they  derive  their  wisdom,  strength, 
and  comfort  from  on  high,  and  cast  all  their 
cares  upon  him  who,  they  assuredly  know, 
vouchsafes  to  take  care  of  them.  This  re- 
minds me  of  another  branch  of  their  commu- 
nion, namely. 

In  interests. — The  Lord  claims  them  for 
his  f)ortion;  he  accounts  them  his  jewels, 
and  their  happiness  in  time  and  in  eternity 
is  the  great  end  which,  next  to  his  own 
glory,  and  mseparable  connexion  with  it,  he 
has  immediately  and  invariably  in  view.  In 
this  point  all  his  dispensations  of  grace  and 
providence  shall  finally  terminate.  He  him- 
self is  their  guide  and  their  guard ;  he  keeps 
them  as  the  apple  of  his  eye ;  the  hairs  of 
their  heads  are  numbered ;  and  not  an  event 
in  their  lives  takes  place  but  in  an  appointed 
subserviency  to  their  final  good.  And  as  he 
is  pleased  to  espouse  their  interest,  they, 
through  grace,  are  devoted  to  his.  They  are 
no  longer  their  own ;  they  would  not  be 
their  own ;  it  is  their  desire,  their  joy,  their 
glory,  to  live  to  him  who  died  for  them.  He 
has  won  their  hearts  by  his  love,  and  made 
them  a  willing  people  in  the  day  of  his 
power.  The  glory  of  his  name,  the  success 
of  his  cause,  the  prosperity  of  his  people,  the 
accomplishment  of  his  will,  these  are  the 


16S 


ON  FAITPI,  AND 


[let.  XXV. 


great  and  loading-  objects  which  arc  cnf^raven 
upon  their  liearts,  and  to  whicli  all  their 
prayers,  desires,  and  endeavours,  are  direct- 
ed, Tiiey  would  count  nothinj:^  dear,  not 
even  their  lives,  if  set  in  competition  with 
these.  In  the  midst  of  their  afflictions,  if  the 
Lord  is  jrlorilied,  if  sinners  are  converted,  if 
the  church  flourishes,  they  can  rejoice.  But 
when  iniquity  abounds,  when  love  waxes 
cold,  when  j)rof"essors  depart  from  the  doc- 
trines of  truth  and  the  power  of  godliness, 
then  they  are  grieved  and  pained  to  the 
heart;  then  they  are  touched  in  what  they 
account  their  nearest  interest,  because  it  is 
their  Lord's. 

This  is  the  spirit  of  a  true  christian.  May 
the  Lord  increase  it  in  us,  and  in  all  who 
love  his  name.  I  have  room  only  to  sub- 
scribe myself,  &c. 


LETTER  XXV. 
On  Faith  and  the  Communion  of  Saints. 

DEAR  SIR, — In  compliance  with  your  re- 
quest, I  freely  give  you  my  sentiments  on 
the  particulars  you  desired.  Your  candour 
will  pass  over  all  inadvertencies,  when  I 
give  you  such  thoughts  as  offer  themselves 
spontaneously,  and  without  study.  If  the 
Lord  is  pleased  to  bring  any  thing  valuable 
to  my  mind,  I  shall  be  glad  to  send  it  to  you ; 
and  I  am  willing  to  believe,  that  when  chris- 
tians, in  his  name  and  fear,  are  writing  to 
one  another,  he  does  often  imperceptibly 
guide  us  to  drop  "  a  word  in  season,"  which, 
I  hope,  will  be  the  case  at  present. 

The  first  object  of  solicitude  to  an  awaken- 
ed soul,  is  safety.  The  law  speaks,  the  sin- 
ner hears  and  fears.  A  holy  God  is  revealed, 
the  sinner  sees  and  trembles.  Every  false 
hope  is  swept  away ;  and  an  earnest  inquiry 
takes  place,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  .'" 
In  proportion  as  faith  is  given,  Jesus  is  disco- 
vered as  the  only  Saviour,  and  the  question 
is  answered ;  and  as  faith  increases,  fear 
subsides,  and  a  comfortable  hope  of  life  and 
immortality  succeeds. 

When  we  have  thus  "a  good  hope  through 
grace,"  that  heaven  shall  be  our  home,  I 
think  the  next  inquiry  is,  or  should  be,  How 
we  may  possess  as  much  of  heaven  by  the 
way  as  is  possible]  in  other  words.  How  a 
aife  of  communion  with  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
may  be  maintained  in  the  greatest  power, 
and  with  the  least  interruption  that  is  con- 
sistent with  the  present  imperfect  state  of 
things?  I  am  persuaded,  dear  Sir,  this  is 
the  point  that  lies  nearest  your  heart ;  and, 
therefore,  I  shall  speak  freely  my  mind 
upon  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  plain  from  scripture 
xmd  experience,  that  all  our  abatements,  de- 


clensions, and  languors,  arise  from  a  defect 
of  faith  ;  from  the  imperfect  manner  in  which 
we  take  up  the  revelation  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  in  tiie  scriptures.  If  our  apprehen- 
sions of  him  were  nearly  suitable  to  the 
characters  which  he  bears  in  his  own 
word  ;  if  we  had  a  strong  and  -abiding  sense 
of  his  power  and  grace  always  upon  our 
hearts,  doubts  and  complaints  would  cease. 
This  would  make  hard  things  easy,  and  bitter 
things  sweet,  and  dispose  our  hearts  with 
cheerfulness  to  do  and  suffer  the  whole  will 
of  God;  and  living  upon  and  to  him,  as  our 
wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctitication,  joy,  and 
supreme  end,  we  should  live  a  heaven  upon 
earth.  The  face  of  the  question  is,  there- 
fore, a  little  changed,  and  amounts  to  this. 
What  are  the  means  to  increase  and 
strengthen  our  faith] 

I  apprehend  that  the  growth  of  faith,  no 
less  than  of  all  other  graces,  of  which  faith 
is  the  root,  is  gradual,  and  ordinarily  effected 
in  the  use  of  appointed  means ;  yet  not  alto- 
gether arbitrary,  but  appointed  by  him  whey. 
knows  our  frame,  and  therefore  works  in  us,, 
in  a  w'ay  suited  to  those  capacities  he  has 
endued  us  with. 

1.  If  faith  arises  from  the  knowledge  of 
Christ,  and  this  knowledge  is  only  contained 
in  the  word  of  God,  it  follows,  that  a  careful 
and  frequent  perusal  of  the  scriptures,  which 
testify  of  him,  is  a  fit  and  a  necessary  means 
of  improving  our  faith. 

2.  If,  besides  the  outward  revelation  or 
the  word,  there  must  be  a  revelation  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  likewise,  whose  office  it  is  to» 
take  of  the  things  of  Jesus,  and  show  them 
to  the  soul,  by  and  according  to  the  written 
word,  Johnxvi.  14;  2  Cor.  iii.  18;  and  if  this- 
Spirit  is  promised  and  limited  to  those  who 
ask  it ;  then  it  follows  likewise,  that  secret 
prayer  is  another  necessary  means  of  strength- 
ening faith.  Indeed,  these  two  I  account 
the  prime  ordinances.  If  we  were  providen- 
tially, and  not  wilfully  restrained  from  all 
the  rest,  the  word  of  grace,  and  the  throne 
of  grace,  would  supply  their  wants.  With 
these  we  might  be  happy  in  a  dungeon  or  in 
a  desert ;  but  nothing  will  compensate  the 
neglect  of  these.  Though  we  should  be  en- 
gaged in  a  course  of  the  best  conversation,, 
and  attend  upon  sermons  from  one  end  of 
the  week  to  the  other,  we  would  languish: 
and  starve  in  the  midst  of  plenty ;  our  souls^ 
would  grow  dry  and  lean,  unless  these  se- 
cret exercises  are  kept  up  with  some  degree? 
of  exactness. 

3.  Another  means  to  this  purpose,  is  faith- 
fulness to  light  already  received,  John  xivJ 
15 — 24,  especially  ver.  21.  It  is  worth  ol 
servation,  that  faith  and  fidelity,  the  act  of 
dependence,  and  the  purpose  of  obedience,  are 
expressed  in  the  Greek  by  the  same  word» 
Though  the  power  is  all  of  God,  and  the 
blessing  of  mere  free  grace ;  yet,  if  there  is 


LKT.  XXV. ] 


Tin:  COMMUNION  OF  SAINTS. 


mo 


any  Hccret  rosorvo,  any  iillowt'd  ovil  coti- 
nivrd  at  in  tlio  heart  ami  lit««,  this  will  shut  up 
tho  avtMUU's  tofDiiilort,  and  I'lM'ck  thi*  jjrowth 
i>t"  t'lith.  I  lay  very  littl«>  stress  ii|K)h  that 
tliith  or  comfort  whi(-*h  is  not  atVccted  hy  un- 
steady walkiniif. 

The  oxperieneo  of  j):ist  years  has  taujjht 
Mio  to  distinj^aiish  between  i^^norance  and 
disobedience.  The  I»rd  is  prracious  to  the 
weakness  ot'  his  people:  many  involuntary 
mishikes  will  not  interru|)t  their  communion 
with  him ;  he  pities  their  inhrmity,  and 
teaches  them  to  do  better.  But  if  they  dis- 
pute his  known  will,  and  act  aj^ainst  the 
dictates  of  conscience,  they  will  surely  suf- 
fer for  it.  This  will  weaken  their  liands, 
and  brinjx  distress  into  their  hearts.  Wil- 
ful sin  sadly  perplexes  and  retards  our  pro- 
gress. May  the  Lord  keep  us  from  it !  It 
raises  a  dark  cloud,  and  hides  the  Sun  of 
rij^hteousness  from  our  view ;  and  till  he  is 
pleased  l>eely  to  shine  torth  aguin,  we  can 
do  nothing;  and  for  this,  perhaps,  he  will 
make  us  wait,  and  cry  out  often,  "  How  long, 
O  Lord  !  how  long  !" 

Thus,  by  reading  the  word  of  God,  by  fre- 
quent prayer,  by  a  simple  attention  to  the 
Lord's  will,  together  with  the  use  of  public 
ordinances,  and  the  observations  we  are  able 
to  make  upon  what  passes  within  us  and 
without  ijs,  which  is  what  we  call  experience, 
the  Lord  watering  and  blessing  with  the  in- 
fluence of  his  Holy  Spirit,  may  we  grow  in 
grace,  and  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour,  be  more  humbled  in  our  own  eyes, 
more  weaned  from  self,  more  fixed  on  him  as 
our  all  in  all,  till  at  last  we  shall  meet  before 
his  throne. 

TJie  communion  of  saints,  another  point 
you  desire  my  thoughts  upon,  is  the  great 
privilege  of  all  the  children  of  God  :  they 
may  be  separate  from  each  other  in  body,  and 
yet  may  daily  meet  at  the  throne  of  grace.  This 
is  one  branch  of  the  communion  of  saints,  to 
be  present  in  spirit  to  each  other ;  sharing 
in  common  of  the  influences  of  the  same 
Spirit,  they  feel  the  same  desires,  aim  at  the 
same  objects,  and,  so  far  as  they  are  person- 
ally acquainted,  are  led  to  bear  each  other 
upon  their  hearts  in  prayer.  It  has  often 
been  an  encouragement  to  me  in  a  dark 
and  dull  hour,  when  rather  the  constraint 
of  duty,  than  the  consideration  of  privilege, 
has  brought  me  upon  my  knees,  to  reflect 
how  many  hearts,  and  eyes,  and  hands,  have 
been  probably  lifted  up  in  the  same  moment 
with  mine.  This  thought  has  sfiven  me  new 
courage.  O,  what  a  great  family  has  our 
Father!  and  what  David  says  of  the  natural, 
is  true  of  the  spiritual  life.  Psalm  civ.  "  These 
all  wait  upon  thee,  that  thou  mayest  give  them 
their  meat  in  due  season.  That  thou  givest 
them,  they  gather :  thou  openest  thine  hand, 
and  they  are  filled  with  good."    Then  I  par- 


ticularly think  ofthfKHe  wlio  have  been  h«dpful 
to  me  in  time  pant;  the  Hi'a.souM  of  hwert 
comminuon  we  have;  enjoyed  together,  tin; 
subjects  of  our  mutual  complaintH,  &r. 
W' here  are  they,  or  how  engaged,  now  ? 
Perhaps  this  moment  praying,  or  thinking 
about  me.  Then  I  am  roused  to  make  their 
cases  my  own,  and  by  attempting  to  plead 
for  them,  I  get  strength  to  pray  for  myself. 
It  is  an  encouragement,  no  doid)t,  in  a  field 
of  battle,  to  know  that  the  army  we  belong  to 
is  large,  imanimous,  all  inaction,  pressing  on 
from  every  side  against  the  common  cneujy, 
and  gaining  ground  in  every  attack.  IJut 
if  we  derive  fresh  spirits  tVom  considering 
our  friends  and  associates  on  earth,  how 
should  we  take  fire,  if  we  could  penetrate 
within  the  vail,  and  take  a  view  of  the  in- 
visible world !  We  should  not  then  com- 
plain that  we  were  serving  God  alone.  O  the 
numbers,  the  voices,  the  raptures,  of  that 
heavenly  host !  Not  one  complaining  note, 
not  one  discordant  string.  How  many 
thousand  years  has  the  harmony  been 
strengthening,  by  the  hourly  accession  of 
new  voices ! 

I  sometimes  compare  this  earth  to  a  tem- 
porary gallery  or  stage,  erected  for  all  the 
heirs  of  glory  to  pass  over,  that  they  may 
join  in  the  coronation  of  the  Great  King !  a 
solemnity  in  which  they  shall  not  be  mere 
spectators,  but  deeply  interested  parties;  for 
he  is  their  husband,  their  Lord ;  they  bear 
his  name,  and  shall  share  in  all  his  honours. 
Righteous  Abel  led  the  van  ;  the  procession 
has  been  sometimes  broader,  sometimes  nar- 
rowed to  almost  a  single  person,  as  in  the 
days  of  Noah.  After  many  generations  had 
successively  entered  and  disappeared,  the 
King  himself  passed  on  in  person,  preceded 
by  one  chosen  harbinger.  He  received  many 
insults  on  his  passage ;  but  he  bore  all  for  the 
sake  of  those  he  loved,  and  entered  trium- 
phant into  his  glory. 

He  was  followed  by  twelve  faithful  ser- 
vants, and  after  them  the  procession  became 
wider  than  ever.  There  are  many  yet  un- 
born who  must,  as  we  do  now,  tread  in  the 
steps  of  those  gone  before;  and  when  the 
whole  company  is  arrived,  the  stage  shall 
be  taken  down  and  burnt. 

Then  all  the  faithful,  chosen  race 

Shall  meet  before  the  throne, 
Shall  bless  the  conduct  of  his  grace, 

And  make  its  wonders  known. 

Let  us  then,  dear  Sir,  be  of  good  courage ; 
all  the  saints  on  earth,  all  the  saints  in  heaven, 
the  angels  of  the  Lord,  yea,  the  Lord  of 
angels  himself,  all  are  on  our  side.  Though 
the  company  is  large,  yet  there  is  room; 
there  are  many  mansions; — a  place  for 
you;  a  place,  I  trust,  for  worthless  me. — I 
am,  &c. 


170 


ON  GOSPEL-ILLUMINATION. 


[let.    XXVII. 


LETTER  XXVI. 


On  the  gradual  Increase  of  Gospel-illumi- 
nation. 

DEA.R  SIR, — The  (lay  is  now  breaking : 
how  beautilul  its  appearance  !  how  welcome 
the  expectation  of  tiie  approaching-  sun  !  It 
is  this  thoiiglit  makes  the  dawn  agreeable, 
that  it  is  the  presage  of  a  brighter  light ; 
otherwise,  if  we  expect  no  more  day  than 
it  is  this  minute,  we  should  rather  complain 
of  darkness,  than  rejoice  in  the  early  beau- 
ties of  the  morning.  Thus  the  life  of  grace 
is  the  dawn  of  immortality ;  beautiful  beyond 
expression,  if  compared  with  the  night  and 
thick  darkness  which  formerly  covered  us, 
yet  faint,  indistinct,  and  unsatisfying,  in 
comparison  of  the  glory  which  shall  be  re- 
vealed. 

It  is,  however,  a  sure  earnest.  So  surely 
as  we  now  see  the  light  of  the  Sun  of  righte- 
ousness, so  surely  shall  we  see  the  Sun  him- 
self, Jesus  the  Lord,  in  all  his  glory  and 
lustre.  In  the  mean  time,  we  have  reason 
to  be  thankful  for  a  measure  of  light  to  walk 
and  work  by,  and  sufficient  to  show  us  the 
pits  and  snares  by  which  we  might  be  en- 
dangered ;  and  we  have  a  promise,  that  our 
present  light  shall  grow  stronger  and  stronger, 
if  we  are  diligent  in  the  use  of  the  appointed 
means,  till  the  messenger  of  Jesus  shall  lead 
us  within  the  vail,  and  then  farewell  shades 
and  obscurity  for  ever ! 

I  can  now  almost  see  to  write,  and  shall 
soon  put  the  extinguisher  over  my  candle.  I 
do  this  without  the  least  reluctance,  when  I 
enjoy  a  better  light ;  but  I  should  have  been 
unwilling  half  an  hour  ago.  Just  thus,  me- 
thinks,  when  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel 
shines  into  the  heart,  all  our  former  feeble 
lights,  our  apprehensions,  and  our  contrivan- 
ces, become  at  once  unnecessary  and  unno- 
ticed. How  cheerfully  did  the  apostle  put 
out  the  candle  of  his  own  righteousness,  at- 
tainments, and  diligence,  when  the  true  Sun 
arose  upon  him  ]  Phil.  iii.  7,  8.  Your  last 
letter  is  as  a  comment  upon  his  determination. 
Adored  be  the  grace  that  has  given  us  to  be 
like-minded,  even  to  "  account  all  things  but 
loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 

While  I  am  writing,  a  new  lustre,  which 
gilds  the  house  on  the  hill,  opposite  to  my 
study-window,  informs  me  that  the  sun  is  now 
rising :  he  is  rising  to  others,  but  not  yet  to 
me ;  my  situation  is  lower,  so  that  they  enjoy 
a  few  gleams  of  sunshine  before  me;  yet 
this  momentary  difference  is  inconsiderable, 
when  compared  to  the  duration  of  a  whole 
day.  Thus,  some  are  called  by  grace  earlier 
in  life,  and  some  later ;  but  the  seeming  dif- 
ference will  be  lost  and  vanish  when  the 
great  day  of  eternity  comes  on.  There  is  a 
time,  the  Lord's  best  appointed  time,  when 


lie  will  arise  and  shine  upon  many  a  soul 
that  now  sits  "  in  darkness,  and  in  the  region 
of  the  shadow  of  death." 

I  have  been  thinking  on  the  Lord's  con- 
ference with  Nicodemus :  it  is  a  copious  sub- 
ject, and  affords  room,  in  one  part  or  other, 
for  the  whole  round  of  doctrinal  or  experi- 
mental topics.  Nicodemus  is  an  encourag- 
ing example  to  those  who  are  seeking  the 
Lord's  salvation.  He  had  received  some  fa- 
vourable impressions  of  Jesus ;  but  he  was 
very  ignorant,  and  much  under  the  fear  of 
man.  He  durst  only  come  by  night;  and  at 
first,  though  he  heard,  he  understood  not ; 
but  he,  who  opens  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
brought  him  surely,  though  gently  forward. 
The  next  time  we  hear  of  him,  he  durst  put 
in  a  word  in  behalf  of  Christ,  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  enemies,  John  vii. ;  and  at  last, 
he  had  the  courage  openly  and  publicly  to 
assist  in  preparing  the  body  of  his  Master 
for  its  funeral,  at  a  time  when  our  Lord's 
more  avowed  followers  had  all  forsaken  him, 
and  fled.  So  true  is  that,  "  Then  shall  ye 
know,  if  ye  follow  on  to  know  the  Lord ;" 
and  again,  "  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint ; 
and  to  them  that  have  no  might,  he  increaseth 
strength." 

Hope  then,  my  soul,  against  hope  :  though 
thy  graces  are  faint  and  languid,  he  who 
planted  them,  will  water  his  own  work,  and 
not  suffer  them  wholly  to  die.  He  *can  make 
a  little  one  as  a  thousand;  at  his  presence 
mountains  sink  into  plains,  streams  gush  out 
of  the  flinty  rock,  and  the  wilderness  blos- 
soms as  the  rose.  He  can  pull  down  what 
sin  builds  up,  and  build  up  what  sin  pulls 
down  ;  that  which  was  impossible  to  us,  is 
easy  to  him,  and  he  has  bid  us  expect  sea- 
sons of  refreshment  from  his  presence. 
Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus. — I  am,  &:c. 


LETTER  XXVIL 
On  Union  with  Christ. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  union  of  a  believer  with 
Christ  is  so  intimate,  so  unalterable,  so  rich 
in  privilege,  so  powerful  in  influence,  that 
it  cannot  be  fully  represented  by  any  de- 
scription or  similitude  taken  from  earthly 
things.  The  mind,  like  the  sight,  is  incapa- 
ble of  apprehending  a  great  object,  without 
viewing  it  on  different  sides.  To  help  our 
weakness,  the  nature  of  tiiis  union  is  illus- 
trated in  the  scriptures,  by  four  comparisons, 
each  throwing  additional  light  on  the  sub- 
ject, yet  all  falling  short  of  the  thing  signi- 
fied. 

In  our  natural  state,  we  are  *\-jS«vt^c fttva 
XX,  ^£f  .cstf=«£vo.,  driven  and  tossed  about  by  the 
changing  winds  of  opinion,  and  the  waves  of 
trouble,  which  hourly  disturb  and  threaten 


i 


^ur.  XXVIII. 


IN  WHAT  iMAN.\i:il,  »fcc. 


171 


us  ujXMi  tlu"  uncertain  sna  of  Imurui  life. 
But  tuitli,  uuitirii^  us  t(»  Christ,  tixos  us  upon 
a  suri'  touuil:itii)U,  the  Koi'k  of  A;jfos,  whero 
wo  st:uiil  iiuuiovoabh",  though  storms  and 
floods  unito  thoir  force  anrjiiust  us. 

By  nature  wo  art?  soparatcd  from  tho  di- 
vine life,  as  branches  broken  otf,  withered 
and  fruitless.  But  jjrace,  through  faith,  unties 
us  to  Christ  tlie  living  vino,  Irom  whom,  as 
die  root  of  all  tulness,  a  constant  supply  of 
sap  and  intluenco  is  derived  into  each  of  his 
mystical  brandies,  enabling  them  to  brin«]^ 
forth  fruit  unto  God,  and  to  persevere  and 
abound  therein. 

By  nature  we  are  a-Tvyuro,  xx.  ^.o-oui  r:,-,  hate- 
ful and  abominable  in  the  sight  of  a  holy  God, 
and  full  of  enmity  and  hatred  towards  each 
other.  By  faith  uniting  us  to  Christ,  we 
have  fellowship  with  the  Father  and  the  Son, 
and  join  communion  among  ourselves;  even 
as  the  members  of  the  same  body  have  each 
of  them  union,  communion,  and  sympathy 
with  the  head,  and  with  their  fellow  members. 

In  our  natural  estate,  we  were  cast  out 
naked  and  destitute,  without  pity,  and  with- 
out help,  Ezck.  xvi. ;  but  faith  uniting  us  to 
Christ,  interests  us  in  his  rigiiteousness,  his 
riches,  and  his  honours.  Our  Redeemer  is 
our  husband  ;  our  debts  are  paid,  our  settle- 
ment secured,  and  our  names  clianged. 

Thus  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  declaring  himself 
the  foundation,  root,  head,  and  husband  of 
his  people,  takes  in  all  the  ideas  we  can 
frame  of  an  intimate,  vital,  and  inseparable 
union.  Yet  all  these  fall  short  of  truth ;  and 
he  has  given  us  one  farther  similitude,  of 
which  we  can  by  no  means  form  a  just  con- 
ception, till  we  shall  be  brought  to  see  him 
as  he  is  in  his  kingdom,  John  xvii.  21.  "  That 
they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou,  Father,  art  in 
me,  and  I  in  thee ;  that  they  also  may  be  one 
in  us." 

Well  may  we  say,  What  hath  God  wrought ! 
How  inviolable  is  the  security,  how  ines- 
timable the  privilege,  how  inexpressible  the 
happiness,  of  a  believer  !  How  greatly  is  he 
indebted  to  grace !  He  was  once  afar  off, 
but  he  is  brought  nigh  to  God  by  the  blood 
of  Christ ;  he  was  once  a  child  of  wrath,  but 
is  now  an  heir  of  everlasting  life.  How 
strong  then  are  his  obligations  to  walk 
worthy  of  God,  who  has  called  him  to  his 
kingdom  and  glory ! — I  am,  &:,c. 


LETTER  XXVHL 

Answer  to  the  Question,  In  what  Manner 
are  we  to  expect  the  Lord's  promised 
Guidance,  to  influence  our  Judgments, 
and  direct  our  Steps  in  the  Path  of  Duty  1 

DEAR  SIR, — It  is  well  for  those  who  are 
duly  sensible  of  their  own  weakness  and  falli- 


bility, and  of  the  di(ricultio.s  with  which  they 
are  surrounded  in  lifo,  that  the  l/)rd  how  pro- 
mised to  guide  his  people  with  his  eyr*,  luid 
to  cause  them  to  hear  a  word  bi'hind  them, 
saying,  "  This  is  the  way,  walk  yo  in  it," 
when  they  are  in  danger  of  turning  anide 
either  to  the  right  hand  or  to  tlu*  h'tl.  For 
this  j)urposo  he  has  given  us  the  written 
word  to  be  a  lamp  to  our  feet;  and  en- 
courag<^d  us  to  pray  for  the  teaching  of  his 
Holy  Spirit,  that  we  may  rightly  understand 
and  apply  it.  It  i.s,  however,  too  often  seen, 
that  many  widely  deviate  from  tlie  path  of 
duty,  and  commit  gross  and  perplexing  mis- 
takes, while  they  i)rofess  a  sincere  desire  to 
know  the  will  of  God,  and  think  they  have 
his  warrant  and  authority.  Tiiis  must  cer- 
tainly be  owing  to  misapplication  of  the 
rule  by  which  they  judge,  since  the  rule 
itself  is  infallible,  and  the  promise  sure.  The 
scriptures  cannot  deceive  us,  if  rightly  un- 
derstood ;  but  they  may,  if  perverted,  prove 
the  occasion  of  contirming  us  in  a  mistake. 
The  Holy  Spirit  cannot  mislead  those  who 
are  under  his  influence ;  but  we  may  suppose 
that  we  are  so,  when  we  are  not.  It  may 
not  be  unseasonable  to  offer  a  i{i\w  thoughts 
upon  a  subject  of  great  importance  to  the 
peace  of  our  minds,  and  to  the  honour  of  our 
holy  profession. 

Many  have  been  deceived  as  to  what  they 
ought  to  do,  or  in  forming  a  judgment  before- 
hand of  events  in  which  they  are  nearly  con- 
cerned, by  expecting  direction  in  ways  which 
the  Lord  has  not  warranted. — I  shall  men- 
tion some  of  the  principal  of  these,  for  it  is 
not  easy  to  enumerate  them  all. 

Some  persons,  when  two  or  more  things 
have  been  in  view,  and  they  could  not  imme- 
diately determine  which  to  prefer,  have  com- 
mitted their  case  to  the  Lord  by  prayer,  and 
have  then  proceeded  to  cast  lots ;  taking  it 
for  granted,  that  after  such  a  solemn  appeal, 
the  turning  up  of  the  lot  might  be  safely 
rested  in  as  an  answer  from  God.  It  is  true, 
the  scriptures,  and,  indeed,  right  reason  as- 
sures us,  that  the  Lord  disposes  the  lot ;  and 
there  are  several  cases  recorded  in  the  Old 
Testament,  in  which  lots  were  used  by  di- 
vine appointment ;  but  I  think  neither  these, 
nor  the  choosing  Matthias  by  lot  to  the  apos- 
tleship,  are  proper  precedents  for  our  con- 
duct. In  the  division  of  the  land  of  Canaan, 
in  the  affair  of  Achan,  and  in  the  nomination 
of  Saul  to  the  kingdom,  recourse  was  had  to 
lots  by  God's  express  command.  The  in- 
stance of  Matthias  likewise  was  singular, 
such  as  can  never  happen  again,  namely,  the 
choice  of  an  apostle,  who  would  not  have 
been  upon  a  par  with  the  rest,  who  were 
chosen  immediately  by  the  liOrd,  unless  He 
had  been  pleased  to  interpose  in  some  ex- 
traordinar}"^  way ;  and  all  these  were  before 
the  canon  of  scripture  was  completed,  and 
before  the  full  descent  and  communication  of 


172 


IN  WHAT  MANNER,  &c. 


[let.  xxviir. 


the  Holy  Spirit,  who  was  promised  to  dwell 
with  the  church  to  the  end  of  time.  Under  tlie 
New-Testament  dispensation,  we  are  invited 
to  come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  ^race,  to 
make  our  request  known  to  the  Lord,  and  to 
cast  our  cares  upon  him :  but  we  have  neither 
precept  nor  promise,  respectinj^  the  use  of 
lots;  and  to  liave  recourse  to  them  without 
his  appointment,  seems  to  be  temptinf^  him 
ratlier  than  honourinfr  him,  and  to  savour 
more  of  presumption  than  dependence.  The 
effects  likewise  of  this  expedient,  have  often 
been  unhappy  and  hurtful.  A  sufficient 
proof  how  little  it  is  to  be  trusted  to  as  a 
guide  of  our  conduct. 

Others,  when  in  doubt,  have  opened  the 
Bible  at  a   venture,  and  expected    to   find 
something-  to  direct  them,  in  the  first  verse 
they  should  cast  their  eye  upon.     It  is  no 
small  discredit  to  this  practice,  that  the  hea- 
thens who  knew  not  the  Bible,  used  some  of 
their  favourite  books  in  the  same  way;  and 
grounded   their   persuasions   of  what   they 
ought  to  do,  or  of  what  should  befall  them, 
according  to  the  passage  they  happened  to 
open  upon.     Among  the  Romans,  the  writ- 
ings  of  Virgil    were   frequently    consulted 
npon  these  occasions ;  which  gave  rise  to  the 
well-known  expression  of  the  Sortes  Virgil- 
iancB.     And  indeed  Virgil  is  as  well  adapted 
to  satisfy  inquirers  in  this  way,  as  the  Bible 
itself;  for  if  people  will  be  governed  by  the 
occurrence  of  a  single  text  of  scripture,  with- 
out regarding  the  context,  or  duly  compar- 
ing it  with  the  general  tenor  of  the  word  of 
God,  and  with  their  own  circumstances,  they 
may   com.mit   the    greatest    extravagances, 
expect  the  greatest  impossibilities,  and  con- 
tradict the  plainest  dictates  of  common  sense, 
while  they  think  they  have  the  word  of  God 
on  their  side.    Can  the  opening  upon  2  Sam- 
uel vii.  3.  when  Nathan  said    unto  David, 
"  Do  all  that  is  in  thine  heart,  for  the  Lord 
is  with  thee,"  be  sufficient  to  determine  the 
lawfulness  or  expediency  of  actions'?  Or  can 
a  glance  of  the  eye  upon  our  Lord's  words 
to  the  woman  of  Canaan,  Matthew  xv.  28, 
"  Be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt,"  amount 
to  a  proof,  that  the  present  earnest  desire  of 
the  mind  (whatever  it  may  be)  shall  be  surely 
accomplished  !  Yet  it  is  certain  that  matters, 
big  with  important  consequences,  have  been 
engaged  in,  and  the  most  sanguine  expecta- 
tions formed,  upon  no  better  warrant  than  dip- 
ping (as  it  is  called)  upon  a  text  of  scripture. 
A  sudden  strong  impression  of  a  text,  that 
seems  to  have  some  resemblance  to  the  con- 
cern upon  the  mind,  has  been  accepted  by 
many  as  an  infallible  token  that  they  were 
right,  and  that  things  would  go  just  as  they 
would  have  them ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  if 
the  passage  bore  a  threatening  aspect,  it  haj 
filled  them  with  fears  and  disquietudes,  which 
they  have  afterwards  found  were  groundless 
and  unnecessary.     These  impressions,  being 


more  out  of  their  power  than  their  former 
method,  have  been  more  generally  regarded 
and  trusted  to,  but  have  frequently  proved 
no  less  delusive.  It  is  allowed,  that  such 
impressions  of  a  precept  or  a  promise,  as 
humble,  animate,  or  comfort  the  soul,  by 
giving  it  a  lively  sense  of  the  truth  contained 
in  the  words,  are  both  profitable  and  pleasant; 
and  many  of  the  Lord's  people  have  been 
instructed  and  supported  (especially  in  a 
time  of  trouble)  by  some  seasonable  word  of 
grace  applied  and  sealed  by  his  Spirit  with 
power  to  their  hearts.  But  if  impressions  or 
impulses  are  received  as  a  voice  from  heaven, 
directing  to  such  particular  actions  as  could 
not  be  proved  to  be  duties  without  them,  a 
person  may  be  unwarily  misled  into  great 
evils,  and  gross  delusions;  and  many  have 
been  so.  There  is  no  doubt  but  the  enemy 
of  our  souls,  if  permitted,  can  furnish  us  with 
scriptures  in  abundance  in  this  way,  and  for 
these  purposes.  • 

Some  persons  judge  of  the  nature  and 
event  of  their  designs,  by  the  freedom  which 
they  find  in  prayer.  They  say,  they  com- 
mit their  ways  to  God,  seek  his  direction, 
and  are  favoured  with  much  enlargement  of 
spirit ;  and  therefore  they  cannot  doubt  but 
what  they  have  in  view  is  acceptable  in  the 
Lord's  sight.  I  would  not  absolutely  reject 
every  plea  of  this  kind,  yet  without  other 
corroborating  evidence  I  could  not  admit  it 
in  proof  of  what  it  is  brought  for.  It  is  not 
always  easy  to  determine  when  we  have 
spiritual  freedom  in  prayer.  Self  is  deceit- 
ful; and  when  our  hearts  are  much  fixed  and 
bent  upon  a  thing,  this  may  put  words  and 
earnestness  into  our  mouths.  Too  often  we 
first  secretly  determine  for  ourselves,  and 
then  come  to  ask  counsel  of  God  ;  in  such  a 
disposition  we  are  ready  to  catch  at  every 
thing  that  may  seem  to  favour  our  darling 
scheme :  and  the  Lord,  for  the  detection  and 
chastisement  of  our  hypocrisy,  (for  hypocrisy 
it  is,  though  perhaps  hardly  perceptible  to 
ourselves,)  may  answer  us  according  to  our 
idols ;  see  Ezek.  xiv.  3, 4.  Besides,  the  grace  of 
prayer  may  be  in  exercise,  when  the  subject- 
matter  of  tiie  prayer  may  be  founded  upon  a 
mistake,  from  the  intervention  of  circum- 
stances which  we  are  unacquainted  with. 
Thus,  I  may  have  a  friend  in  a  distant  coun- 
try :  I  hope  he  is  alive,  I  pray  for  him,  and  it  is 
my  duty  so  to  do.  The  Lord,  by  his  Spirit,  as- 
sists his  people  in  what  is  their  present  duty. 
If  I  am  enabled  to  pray  with  much  liberty  for 
my  distant  friend,  it  may  be  a  proof  that  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  assist  my  infir- 
mities, but  it  is  no  proof  that  my  friend  is  cer- 
tainly alive  at  the  time  I  am  praying  for  him  : 
and  if  the  next  time  I  pray  for  him  I  should 
find  my  spirit  straitened,  I  am  not  to  cai- 
clude  that  my  friend  is  dead,  and  therefore 
the  Lord  will  not  assist  me  in  praying  for  him 
any  longer. 


LET.  XXIX.] 


ON  ROM.  Vlll.  11>.  'JO,  'JI. 


173 


Onco  more,  a  remarkable  «lr(«am  hassoinc- 
times  bo»>n  tlioufrlit  lus  (lroisivt>  ns  any  of 
the  forecjoiiiir  lurthods  of  knowiii;^  the  will 
ol*  (i(kI.  That  many  \vli()lt\s(.)iiu'  and  sca- 
Bonablo  admonitions  havt-  Immmi  rocoived  in 
droams,  1  willinirly  allow;  but  thou^^li  tlioy 
may  bo  occa.sionilly  notioi'd,  to  |xiy  a  «;roat 
attention  to  dreams,  especially  to  be  <ruido(l 
by  them,  to  form  our  sentiments,  conduct  our 
e.xpectiitions  ujxmi  them,  is  superstitious  and 
dancrerous.  The  promises  are  not  made  to 
those  who  dream,  but  to  those  who  watch. 

Upon  the  whole,  thounrh  the  Lord  may 
give  to  some  persons,  upon  some  occasions, 
a  hint  or  encourajrement  out  of  the  common 
way,  yet  expressly  to  look  for  and  seek  his 
direction  in  suchthinijs  as  I  have  mentioned 
is  unscriptural  and  ensnarinpr.  I  could  till 
many  sheets  with  a  detail  of  the  inconve- 
niences and  evils  which  have  followed  such 
a  dependence,  witiiin  the  course  of  my  own 
observation.  I  have  seen  some  presumintj 
they  were  dointj  God's  service  while  actin^j 
in  contradiction  to  his  express  conmiands.  1 
have  known  others,  infatuated  to  believe  a 
lie,  declarinnf  themselves  assured,  beyond  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt,  of  thinfj^s  which,  after  all, 
never  came  to  pa.^s ;  and,  when  at  lentrth 
disappointed,  Satan  has  improved  the  occa- 
sion to  make  them  doubt  of  the  plainest  and 
most  important  truths,  and  to  account  their 
whole  former  experience  a  delusion.  By 
these  things  weak  believers  have  been 
stumbled,  cavils  and  offences  against  the 
gospel  multiplied,  and  the  ways  of  truth  evil 
spoken  of. 

But  how,  then,  may  the  Lord's  guidance 
be  expected  I  After  what  has  been  pre- 
mised negatively,  the  question  may  be  an- 
swered in  a  few  words.  In  general,  he 
guides  and  directs  his  people  by  affording 
ihem,  in  answer  to  prayer,  the  light  of  his 
Holy  Spirit,  which  enables  them  to  under- 
stand and  to  love  the  scriptures.  The  word 
of  God  is  not  to  be  used  as  a  lottery,  nor  is  it 
designed  to  instruct  us  by  shreds  and  scraps, 
which,  detached  from  their  proper  places, 
have  no  determined  import;  but  it  is  to  fur- 
nish us  with  just  principles,  right  apprehen- 
sions, to  regulate  our  judgments  and  affec- 
tions, and  thereby  to  influence  and  direct 
our  conduct.  They  who  study  the  scriptures, 
in  an  humble  dependence  upon  divine  teach- 
ing, are  convinced  of  their  own  weakness, 
are  taught  to  make  a  true  estimate  of  every 
thino-  around  them,  are  gradually  formed  into 
a  spirit  of  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  dis- 
cover the  nature  and  duties  of  their  several 
situations  and  relations  in  life,  and  the  snares 
and  temptations  to  which  they  arc  exposed. 
The  word  of  God  dwells  richly  in  them,  is  a 
preservative  from  error,  a  light  to  their  feet, 
and  a  spring  of  strength  and  consolation.  By 
treasuring  up  the  doctrines,  precepts,  pro- 
mises, examples,  and  exhortations  of  scrip- 


ture in  their  minds,  and  daily  romparm|f 
Ihemselvt's  with  the  rule  by  \n  hich  tjiey  walk, 
they  grow  into  a!i  habitual  frame  of  spiritual 
wis<l(»iii,  and  accjuiri?  a  gracious  Uiste,  which 
enables  them  to  judge  of  rii,dit  and  wrong 
with  a  degree  of  readiness  and  certainty,  rusa 
musical  ear  judges  of  .sounds;  and  they  are 
seldom  mistaken,  because  they  are  inlliM-nced 
by  the  love  of  ('hrist  which  rules  in  their 
hearts,  and  a  regard  to  the  glory  of(j(x],  which 
are  the  great  objects  they  have  in  view. 

In  particular  cases  the  Ixird  opens  and 
shuts  for  them,  breaks  down  walls  of  difficulty 
which  obstruct  their  path,  or  he<lges  up  their 
way  with  thorns,  when  they  are  in  danger  of 
going  wrong,  by  the  dispensations  of  his  pro- 
vidence. Tiiey  know  that  their  concern- 
ments are  in  his  hands;  they  are  willing  to 
follow  whither  and  when  he  leads,  but  are 
afraid  of  going  before  him.  Theretbre  they 
are  not  impatient.  Because  they  believe, 
they  will  not  make  haste,  but  wait  daily  upon 
him  in  prayer; especially  when  they  find  their 
hearts  most  engaged  in  any  purpose  or  pur- 
suit, they  are  most  jealous  of  being  deceived 
by  appearances,  and  dare  not  move  farther  or 
faster  than  they  can  perceive  his  light  shining 
upon  their  paths.  I  express  at  least  their 
desire,  if  not  their  attainment:  thus  they 
would  be.  And  though  there  are  seasons 
when  faith  languishes,  and  self  too  much 
prevails,  this  is  their  general  disposition, 
and  the  Lord,  whom  they  serve,  does  not 
disappoint  their  expectations ;  he  leads  them 
by  a  right  way,  preserves  them  from  a  thou- 
sand snares,  and  satisfies  them  that  he  is 
and  will  be  their  guide  even  unto  death. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIX. 

Thoughts  on  Rom.  viii.  19,  20,  21. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  apostle  evidently  introdu- 
ces this  passage  in  confirmation  of  what  he 
had  said  before,  ver.  17,  18.  The  privileges 
of  the  children  of  God  are  not  only  great,  but 
sure.  Every  thing  we  see  confirms  our  ex- 
pectation of  w^hat  God  has  promised.  The 
whole  frame  of  nature,  in  its  present  state 
of  imperfection,  strongly  pleads  for  a  future 
and  better  dispensation,  as  necessary  to  vindi- 
cate the  wisdom,  goodness,  and  justice  of  God ; 
and  this  shall  take  place  when  the  sons  of 
God  shall  be  manifested,  and  sliall  shine  forth 
in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father.  It  would 
be  injurious  to  the  honour  of  God  to  suppose 
that  things  were  at  first  created  in  the  state 
they  are  now  in,  or  Ihat  they  will  always 
continue  so,  and  therefore  the  creature,  which 
was  originally  designed  to  show  forth  the 
glory  of  God,  is  represented  as  burdened  and 
groaning  till  those  impediments  are  removed 


174 


ON  ROM.  VIII.  19,  20,  21. 


[let.  XXIX. 


which  prevent  it  from  fully  answering  itd 
proper  end. 

IJr.  Ciiyse's  proposal  of  reading  the  20th 
verse  (the  words  in  hope  excepted)  in  a  pa- 
renthesis, seems  greatly  to  free  the  sense 
from  embarrassment.  Then  the  proposition 
in  the  19tli  and  21st  verses  will  be,  "  The 
earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth 
in  hope  for  tiio  manifestation  of  the  sons  of 
God ;  because  then  the  creature  also  shall 
be  delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption," 
&c.  The  20th  verse  expresses  the  creature's 
present  state,  "  It  is  subject  to  vanity ;"  and 
intimates  the  cause,  "Not  willingly,  but  by 
reason  of  him  who  hath  subjected  the  same." 

By  the  creature  some  understand  mankind, 
as  the  word  is  used  Mark  xvi.  15;  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that,  partly  from  imperfect  tradition,  and 
partly  from  a  general  rumour  of  the  prophe- 
cies extant  among  the  Jews,  the  heathens  had 
some  confused  apprehension  of  a  deliverer 
from  misery ;  agreeably  to  which,  or  rather 
on  account  of  their  need  of  a  saviour,  whether 
they  knew  it  or  not,  Christ  is  styled  "  the 
desire  of  all  nations."  But  this  does  not  seem 
to  be  the  sense  ;  because  the  creature  here 
is  said  to  be  subject  to  vanity,  not  willingly^ 
and  is  represented  as  groaning,  travailing, 
and  longing  (ver.  22,)  for  deliverance.  But 
it  is  so  far  from  being  the  concurrent  desire 
of  all  mankind,  or  indeed  the  desire  of  any 
single  person,  to  obtain  freedom  from  the 
bondage  of  sin,  that  we  are  naturally  pleased 
with  it,  and  yield  a  willing  subjection.  Be- 
sides, the  period  referred  to  is  beyond  the 
present  life,  and  intends  not  a  partial  relief 
here,  but  a  full  deliverance  hereafter.  It 
seems,  therefore,  that  creature,  in  these 
verses,  and  creation,  in  ver.  22,  as  they  are 
both  expressed  by  the  same  word  in  the  Greek, 
are  to  be  taken  in  the  same  sense.  The 
whole  frame  of  this  lower  world,  which  is 
now  subject  to  vanity  on  account  of  the  sin 
of  man,  is  represented  as  longing  and  waiting 
for  deliverance. 

The  v;ord  «-cx«fxSox.«,  which  we  render 
"  earnest  expectation,"  is  very  emphatical ; 
it  imports  a  raismg  up  or  thrusting  forward 
the  head,  as  persons  who  are  in  suspense 
for  the  return  of  a  messenger,  or  the  issue 
of  some  interesting  event.  Compare  Judges 
V.  23,  Luke  xxi.  29.  It  occurs  but  once 
more  in  the  New  Testament,  Phil.  i.  20, 
where  the  apostle  is  describing,  in  one  view, 
the  confidence  of  his  hope  and  the  many 
conflicts  and  oppositions  which  were  the 
daily  exercise  of  his  faith. 

Now  it  is  a  frequent  beauty  in  the  scrip- 
ture language  to  apply  human  alTections  to 
the  inanimate  creation,  and  these  expressions 
are  to  be  taken  in  a  figurative  sense,  as  de- 
noting the  importance  and  evidence  of  what 
IS  said.  See  Gen.  iv.  11,  Isa.  i.  2,  Luke  xix. 
40.  The  "  earnest  expectation  of  the  crea- 
ture," therefore,  teaches  us  two  things,  the 


weight  and  burden  of  the  evils  under  which 
the  world  groans,  and  the  sure  purpose  of 
God  to  restore  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ. 
There  is  a  period  approaching  when  all  that 
is  now  rough  and  crooked  shall  be  made  plain 
and  straiglit.  The  Lord  has  promised  it,  and 
therefore  all  his  works  are  represented  as 
expecting  and  waiting  for  it. 

This  shall  be  at  "  the  manifestation  of  the 
sons  of  God."  They  are  now  hidden,  un- 
known, unnoticed,  and  misrepresented,  for 
the  most  part.  Their  life  is  in  many  respects 
hidden  from  themselves,  and  their  privileges 
altogether  hidden  from  the  world  ;  but  ere 
long  they  will  be  manifested,  their  God  will 
openly  acknowledge  them,  every  cloud  by 
which  they  are  now  obscured  shall  be  re- 
moved, and  they  shall  shine  like  the  sun  in 
the  kingdom  of  their  Father.  They  have 
now  a  gracious  liberty ;  they  are  freed  from 
condenmation,  from  the  power  of  sin,  from 
the  law  as  a  covenant  of  works,  from  the  yoke 
of  carnal  ordinances,  from  the  traditions  and 
inventions  of  men,  and  from  the  spirit  of  bond- 
age; yet  they  suffer  much  from  indwelling  sin, 
the  temptations  of  Satan,  and  their  situation  in 
a  wicked  and  ensnaring  world.  But  they  are 
animated  with  the  hope  of  a  glorious  liberty, 
when  every  evil,  imperfection,  and  abatement 
shall  cease,  when  they  shall  be  put  in  the 
full  possession  of  a  happiness  answerable  to 
the  riches  of  divine  love,  and  the  efficacy  of 
the  blood  and  mediation  of  Jesus;  and  then 
the  curse  shall  be  fully  removed  from  the 
creation;  the  Lord  shall  create  all  things 
new,  and  again  pronounce  all  things  good. 
When  they  are  thus  manifested,  the  crea- 
ture's expectation  shall  be  answered;  it  shall 
be  restored  to  its  honour  and  use.  Undfer 
what  circumstances,  and  to  what  particular 
purposes,  this  change  will  take  place  we 
know  not,  but  a  change  worthy  of  divine 
wisdom,  though  beyond  the  limits  of  our 
weak  apprehensions,  we  are  warranted  from 
scripture  to  expect.  It  is  asserted  in  this 
passage,  to  which,  perhaps,  we  may  properly 
add  2  Pet.  iii.  13,  Rev.  xxi.  1.  It  would  be 
easy  to  indulge  in  vain  conjectures  upon  this 
subject,  but  it  is  more  safe  to  restrain  them, 
and  to  content  ourselves  with  what  is  clearly 
revealed.  The  hour  is  coming  when  all  dil- 
ficulties  shall  be  explained,  when  the  mys- 
terious plan  of  divine  providence  shall  be 
unfolded,  vindicated,  and  completed  ;  then  it 
shall  appear  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is 
the  head  and  restorer  of  the  creation,  and 
how  fully,  in  every  sense,  he  has  repaired  the 
ruin  brought  into  the  world  by  sin,  and  de- 
stroyed the  works  of  the  devil. 

In  the  meantime,  the  sons  of  God  groan, 
waiting  for  their  adoption,  and  the  creation 
groans  with  them.  At  present  it  is  subject 
to  vanity.  Its  original  design  was  to  fulfil 
the  will,  and  to  set  forth  the  glory  of  God ; 
but,  by  the  sin  of  man,  it  is  disappointed  witli 


LET.  XXIX.] 


ON  ROM.  VIII.  19,20,21. 


ir> 


respoct  to  tht^so  onds,  not  absolutoly,  for  still 
the  luvivjMis  tloclaro  liis  jjlory  mid  the  (virth 
is  full  of  his  (^(hkIiu'ss;  but,  with  rr;,''iir(l  to 
outwurcl  u|)|K»iiniuc(*s,  tln»rt^  is  ii  jjreat  ubatc- 
meut  in  lM)tli  tlieso  respects.  Wo  nmy  in- 
stance a  few  piirtirulars  in  which  the  crea- 
ture is  al)Msc(l  anil  oppressed  contrary  to  the 
desiofn  of  its  creation. 

The  creature  was  intended  to  show  forth 
the  jT^lory  of  Clod:  but  here  it  has  been  dis- 
ap|K)inted,  ami  has  trroaned,  beinjj^  burdened 
in  all  anros.  Vain  nian  has  always  Ix^en  dis- 
posed to  serve  and  worship  t  lie  creature  more 
llian  the  Creator.  The  whole  world  formerly, 
except  the  Jews,  were  sunk  in  idolatry,  pay- 
ing divine  honours  to  the  sun  and  moon,  yea, 
to  stocks  and  stones;  and  a  great  part  of  the 
earth  is  to  this  moment  covered  with  the 
same  darkness.  When  this  is  the  case,  the 
creature  groans  under  vanity,  being  pervert- 
ed directly  contrary  to  its  proper  end ;  and 
there  is  another  idolatry,  if  not  so  gross,  yet 
ill  us  more  inexcusable,  by  which  the  gene- 
rality of  tliose  who  boar  the  name  of  chris- 
tians are  no  less  alienated  from  the  knowledge 
and  love  of  the  true  God,  than  the  lieathens 
themselves. 

Again,  the  creatures,  as  the  servants  of 
Grod,  are  properly  designed  to  promote  the 
welfare  of  his  children,  1  Cor.  iii.  22,  Job  v. 
23.  This  great  end  is  indeed  finally  secured 
by  the  promise,  that  all  shall  work  together 
for  their  good ;  but  at  present  they  are  ex- 
posed to  great  sufferings ;  all  things  seem  to 
come  alike  to  all.  This,  on  the  Lord's  part, 
is  a  wise  and  gracious  appointment  for  the 
exercise  of  fiith,  the  mortitication  of  sin,  and 
the  advancement  of  sanctification  ;  but  still, 
in  itself,  it  is  a  vanity  under  which  the  crea- 
tion groans.  When  Jesus  was  crucified  in 
person,  the  sun  withdrew  his  light,  rocks 
rent,  and  the  earth  quaked.  There  is  a  pro- 
portionable constraint  upon  nature  when  he 
sutlers  in  his  members.  Sometimes  this  part 
of  the  vanity  has  been  suspended,  as  in  the 
case  of  Daniel  and  his  companions;  and, 
doubtless,  the  creatures  would  in  general 
reverence  the  Heir  of  glory,  were  not  the 
effects  of  sin  upon  them  continued  for  wise 
reasons.  They  were  subject  to  man,  when 
man  was  subject  to  his  Maker.  At  present 
there  is  an  apparent  inconsistence,  when 
beasts,  and  storms,  and  seas  rage  against 
those  whom  the  Creator  is  pleased  to  fa- 
vour. 

Once  more,  the  creatures  of  God  might  be 
expected  to  engage  in  his  behalf  against  his 
enemies;  but  it  is  subject  to  vanity  here  like- 
wise. The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  yet  the  chief 
parts  and  possessions  of  it  are  in  the  hands 
of  those  who  hate  him ;  yea,  his  enemies 
employ  his  creatures  against  his  own  friends. 
Surely,  if  the  secret  powerful  restraint  of  his 
providence  were  taken  otl',  it  would  be  other- 
wise.    How  ready  all  the  creatures  are  to  \ 


fight  in  the  I/mPH  cuu.se,  if  ho  pleaj^e  to  nn- 
ploy  them,  we  may  learn  from  tin?  hiHl/iry 
of  i'lgypt,  in  Iv\«jdus,  trom  tin;  death  of  Da- 
tlian  a  ltd  Abiram,  and  the  dehlruclion  of 
Sennacherib's  army.  It  is  tliere(()re  a  Ixmd- 
age  intrulueed  by  sin,  and  umler  which  they 
groan,  that  they  an.'  compelled  to  prolong 
the  lives  and  serve  the  occasions  of  ungodly 
sinners. 

The  ef!<:ct  being  manifest,  that  the  crea- 
ture is  subject  to  vanity,  the  aix)stle  briefly 
intimates  the  cause:  "Not  willingly."  The 
creature,  considered  in  its(;lf,  is  not  in 
fault.  All  things  were  created  good  in  the 
beginning,  and  in  themselves  are  good 
still.  Not  the  fault,  but  the  perversion 
and  subjection  of  the  creature,  are  here 
complained  of  A  beauty,  variety,  and 
order  in  the  works  of  God  are  still  discerni- 
ble, sufHcient  to  till  an  attentive  and  enlight- 
ened mind  with  wonder,  love,  and  praise; 
though  it  must  be  allowed,  that  sin  has  not 
only  alienated  our  hearts,  and  disabled  our 
faculties,  so  that  we  cannot  rightly  contem- 
plate God  and  his  works,  but  has  likewise  oc- 
casioned a  considerable  alteration  in  the  visi- 
ble state  of  things.  One  instance  is  express- 
ly specified.  Gen.  iii.  16. 

The  positive  cause  is  ascribed  to  "him 
who  lias  subjected  the  same."  These  w^ords 
may  bear  three  different  senses  in  agreement 
with  the  current  doctrine  of  the  scriptures. 
The  prime  author  of  the  mischief  was  Satan. 
Full  of  malice  and  enmity  against  God  and 
his  creatures,  he  attempted  to  bring  evil  into 
this  lower  world,  and  was  permitted  to  suc- 
ceed ;  the  Lord  purposing  to  over-rule  it  to 
his  own  glory.  But  for  a  season,  the  work 
of  the  devil  has  been  to  introduce  and  main- 
tain a  sad  scene  of  vanity  and  misery.  Our 
first  father  Adam  was  the  direct  and  imme- 
diate cause  of  the  entrance  of  sin  and  vanity 
into  the  creation.  He  was  created  upright, 
and  all  things  good  about  him ;  but  he  list- 
ened to  Satan,  and  sinned,  and  by  his  sin 

Brought  death  into  the  world,  and  all  our  woe  ; 

for  we  were  concerned  in  his  transgression, 
as  he  was  our  head,  both  in  nature  and 
law.  But  we  may  refer  the  him  to  God;  and 
this  seems  best  to  suit  the  apostle's  design 
here.  God,  the  righteous  judge,  subjected 
the  creature  to  vanity,  as  the  just  consequence 
and  desert  of  man's  disobedience.  But  he 
has  subjected  it  in  hope,  with  a  reserve  in 
favour  of  his  own  people,  by  which,  though 
they  are  liable  to  trouble,  they  are  secured 
from  the  penal  desert  of  sin,  and  the  vanity 
of  the  creature  is,  by  his  wisdom,  over-ruled 
to  wise  and  gracious  purposes.  The  earth, 
and  all  in  it,  was  made  for  the  sake  of  man ; 
for  his  sin  it  was  first  cursed,  and  afterwards 
destroyed  by  water ;  and  sin  at  last  shall  set 
it  on  fire.  But  God,  who  is  rich  i^n  mercy, 
appointed  a  people  to  himself  out  of  tlie  fallen 


176  ON  THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  THE  LAW.  [let.  xxx. 

to  conclude  what  it  is  to  use  the  law  law- 
fully. 

Tlie  law,  in  many  passages  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, signifies  the  whole  revelation  of  the 
will  of  God,  as  in  Psalm  i.  2,  and  xix.  7. 
But  the  law,  in  a  strict  sense,  is  contradis- 
tinguished from  the  gospel.  Thus  the  apos- 
tle considers  it  at  large  in  his  epistle  to  the 
Komans  and  Galatians.  I  think  it  is  evident, 
that,  in  the  passage  you  have  proposed,  the 
apostle  is  speaking  of  the  law  of  Moses. 
But,  to  have  a  clearer  view  of  the  subject,  it 
may  be  proper  to  look  back  to  a  more  early 
period. 

The  law  of  God,  then,  in  the  largest  sense, 
is  that  rule,  or  prescribed  course,  which  he 
has  appointed  for  his  creatures,  according  to 
their  several  natures  and  capacities,  that 
they  may  answer  the  end  for  which  he  has 
happiness  from  the  creature,  which  is  itself  i  created  them.  Thus  it  comprehends  the  in- 
subject  to  vanity,  and  who  are  meanly  con-  animate  creation:  the  wind  and  storm  fulfil 
tent  with  the  present  state  of  things'?  It  is  j  his  word,  or  law.  He  hath  appointed  the 
because  they  are  estranged  from  God,  have  j  moon  for  seasons ;  and  the  sun  knoweth  his 
no  sense  of  his  excellency,  no  regard  for  his   time  for  going  down,  and  going  forth,  and 


race.  For  their  sakes,  and  as  a  theatre 
whereon  to  display  the  wonders  of  his  provi- 
dence and  grace,  it  was  renewed  after  the 
flood,  and  still  continues,  but  not  in  its  origi- 
nal state;  there  are  marks  of  tiie  evil  of  sin, 
and  of  God's  displeasure  against  it,  wherever 
we  turn  our  eyes.  This  truth  is  witnessed 
to  by  every  thing  without  us,  and  within  us. 
But  there  shall  be  a  deliverance  to  those  who 
fear  him ;  and  by  his  word  and  Spirit,  he 
teaches  them  to  receive  instruction  and 
benefit  even  from  this  root  of  bitterness. 
Even  now  they  are  the  sons  of  God ;  but 
it  dotli  not  yet  appear  what  they  will  be 
when  he  shall  appear,  and  be  admired  in  all 
them  that  believe.  Then  they  shall  be  ma- 
nifested, and  then  the  creature  also  shall  be 
delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption. 
How  blind,  then,  are   they  who   expect 


glory,  no  knowledge  of  their  own  proper 
good.  They  are  farther  removed  from  the 
desires  they  ought  to  have,  in  their  present 
circumstances,  than  the  brute  creation,  or 
the  very  ground  they  walk  on ;  for  all  things 
but  man  have  an  instinct,  or  natural  princi- 
ple to  answer  the  end  for  which  they  were 
appointed.  Fire  and  hail,  wind  and  storm, 
fulfil  the  word  of  God,  though  we  poor  mor- 
tals dare  to  disobey  it.  But  if  the  secret 
voice  of  the  whole  creation  desires  the  con- 
summation of  all  things,  surely  they  who 
have  the  light  of  God's  word  and  Spirit 
will  look  forward,  and  long  for  that  glorious 
day.  Amen,  even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus! — 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXX. 

On  the  right  Use  of  the  Law. 

DEAR  SIR, — You  desire  my  thoughts  on 
1  Tim.  i.  8.  "  We  know  the  law  is  good  if  a 
man  use  it  lawfully,"  and  I  willingly  com- 
ply. I  do  not  mean  to  send  you  a  sermon  on 
the  text;  yet  a  little  attention  to  method 
may  not  be  improper  upon  this  subject,  though 
in  a  letter  to  a  friend.  Ignorance  of  the  na- 
ture and  design  of  the  law  is  at  the  bottom 
of  most  religious, mistakes.  This  is  the  root 
of  self-righteousness,  the  grand  reason  why 
the  gospel  of  Christ  is  no  more  regarded,  and 
the  cause  of  that  uncertainty  and  inconsist- 
ency in  many,  who,  though  they  profess  them- 
selves teachers,  understand  not  what  they 
say,  nor  whereof  they  affirm.  If  we  previ- 
ously state  what  is  meant  by  the  law,  and  by 


performs  all  his  revolutions  according  to  his 
Maker's  pleasure.  If  we  could  suppose  the 
sun  was  an  intelligent  being,  and  should  re- 
fuse to  shine,  or  should  wander  from  the 
station  in  which  God  had  placed  him,  he 
would  then  be  a  transgressor  of  the  law. 
But  there  is  no  such  disorder  in  the  natural 
world.  The  law  of  God  in  this  sense,  or 
what  many  choose  to  call  the  law  of  nature, 
is  no  other  than  the  impression  of  God's 
power,  whereby  all  things  continue  and  act 
according  to  his  will  from  the  beginning ;  for 
"  he  spake,  and  it  was  done  ;  he  commanded, 
and  it  stood  fast." 

The  animals,  destitute  of  reason,  are  like- 
wise under  a  law  ;  that  is,  God  has  given 
them  instincts  according  to  their  several 
kinds,  for  their  support  and  preservation,  to 
which  they  invariably  conform.  A  wisdom 
unspeakably  superior  to  all  the  contrivances 
of  man  disposes  their  concernments,  and  is 
visible  in  the  structure  of  a  bird's  nest,  or 
the  economy  of  a  bee-hive.  But  this  wisdom 
is  restrained  within  narrow  limits  ;  they  act 
without  any  remote  design,  and  are  incapa- 
ble either  of  good  or  evil  in  a  moral  sense. 

When  God  created  man,  he  taught  him 
more  than  the  beasts  of  the  earth,  and  made 
him  wiser  than  the  fowls  of  heaven.  He 
formed  him  for  himself,  breathed  into  him  a 
spirit  immortal  and  incapable  of  dissolution, 
gave  him  a  capacity  not  to  be  satisfied  with 
any  creature-good,  endued  him  with  an  un- 
derstanding, will,  and  affections,  which  qual- 
ified him  for  the  knowledge  and  service  of 
his  Maker,  and  a  life  of  communion  with 
him.  The  law  of  God,  therefore,  concerning 
man,  is  that  rule  of  disposition  and  conduct 
to  which  a  creature  so  constituted  ought  to 
conform  ;  so  that  the  end  of  his   creation ' 


wliat  means  we  know  the  law  to  be  good,  I 

think  it  will,  from  these  premises,  be  easy  |  might  be  answered  and  the  wisdom  of  God 


XKT.  XXX.] 


ON  TIIK  Rir.IIT  USE  OF  THE  LAW 


177 


bo  manifostcd  in  him  nnd  hy  him,  Man's 
conlimrinfc  in  this  r«'Lrnlar  niul  hiipj>v  state 
was  not  m^'fssary  as  it  is  in  thr  crratiircs, 
wh(\  havinjj  no  rational  fanilties,  have  pro- 
perly no  choice,  hut  act  under  the  immmli- 
ato  agency  of  divine  i)o\V(»r.  As  man  was 
capahle  of  contiimini^  in  the  stjito  in  which  ho 
was  created,  so  he  was  caj)ahle  of  forsaliin;'' 
it.  Ho  (lid  so,  and  siimed,  hy  eatinijf  the  for- 
bidden fruit.  We  are  not  to  suppo.^e  that 
this  prohihition  was  the  whole  of  the  law  of 
Adam,  so  that  if  ho  had  ahstained  from  the 
•  tree  of  knowledfjo,  ho  miijht,  in  other  re- 
spects, have  done  (as  we  say)  what  he  j)leased. 
This  injunction  was  the  test  of  hisob(Mlience; 
and  while  ho  roiiarded  it,  he  could  have  no 
desire  contrary  to  holiness,  because  his  na- 
ture was  holy.  But  when  he  broke  throuji^h 
it,  he  broke  throus^h  the  whole  law,  and 
etood  gfuilty  of  idolatry,  blasphemy,  rebellion, 
and  murder.  The  divine  li<j^ht  in  his  soul  was 
extinncuished,  the  imao^o  of  God  defaced; 
he  became  like  Satan,  whom  he  had  obeyed, 
and  lost  the  power  to  keep  that  law  which 
was  connected  with  happiness.  Yet,  still 
the  law  remained  in  force  :  the  blessed  God 
could  not  lose  his  riirht  to  that  reverence, 
love,  and  obedience,  which  must  always  be 
due  to  him  from  his  intellicjent  creatures. 
Thus  Adam  became  a  transcrressor,  and  in- 
curred the  penalty,  death.  But  God,  who  is 
rich  in  mercy,  accordinjr  to  his  eternal  pur- 
pose, revealed  the  promise  of  the  seed  of  the 
woman,  and  instituted  sacrifices  as  types  of 
that  atonement  for  sin,  which  He,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  should  accomplish  by  the  sacri- 
fice of  himself. 

Adam,  after  his  fall,  was  no  long-cr  a  pub- 
lic person ;  he  was  saved  by  ^race  throug-h 
faith ;  but  the  depravity  he  had  brought  upon 
human  nature  remained.  His  children,  and 
so  all  his  posterity,  were  born  in  his  sinful 
likeness,  without  either  ability  or  inclina- 
tion to  keep  the  law.  The  earth  was  soon 
filled  with  violence.  But  a  few  in  every 
successive  age  were  preserved  by  grace,  and 
faith  in  the  promise.  Abraham  was  favoured 
with  a  more  full  and  distinct  revelation  of 
the  covenant  of  grace ;  he  saw  the  day  of 
Christ,  and  rejoiced.  In  the  time  of  Moses, 
God  was  pleased  to  set  apart  a  peculiar  peo- 
ple to  himself,  and  to  them  he  published  his 
law  with  great  solemnity  at  Sinai.  This 
law  consisted  of  two  distinct  parts,  very  dif- 
ferent in  their  scope  and  design,  though  both 
enjoined  by  the  same  authority. 

The  decalogue,  or  ten  commandments, 
uttered  by  the  voice  of  God  himself,  is  an 
abstract  of  that  original  law  under  which 
man  was  created,  but  published  in  a  pro- 
hibitory form ;  the  Israelites,  like  the  rest  of 
mankind,  being  depraved  by  sin,  and  strongly 
inclined  to  the  commission  of  every  evil. 
This  law  could  not  be  designed  as  a  covenant, 
by  obedience  to  which  man  should  be  justi- 


fied ;  lor  long  i)efore  its  pul)licati()n,  the  {foft- 
P'd  had  been  |)reM<hed  to  .Abniham,  (ialutiarirt 
iii.  H.  Hut  the  law  entered  that  ^l^  iiii^ht 
alMJimd  ;  that  the  extent,  the  evil,  and  the 
desert  of  sin  might  he  knowrj  ;  for  it  reaches 
to  the  most  hidden  thoughts  of  the  heart,  re- 
quires absolutf.'  and  perpetual  obedience,  and 
denounces  a  curse  upon  all  who  continue  not 
tluToin. 

To  this  wa.s  superadded  the  ceremonial  or 
levitical  law,  prescribing  a  variety  of  institu- 
tions, purifications,  and  sacrifices,  the  obser- 
vance of  which  were,  during  that  dispensa- 
tion, absolutely  necessary  to  the  acceptable 
worship  of  (lod.  By  obedience  to  these  pre- 
scriptions, the  people  of  Israel  preserved 
their  legal  right  to  the  blessings  promised  to 
them  as  a  nation,  and  which  were  not  con 
fined  to  spiritual  worshippers  only ;  and  the) 
were  likewise  ordinances  and  helps  to  lea^ 
those  who  truly  feared  God,  and  had  con^ 
sciencsof  sin,  to  look  forward,  by  faith,  to  the 
great  sacrifice,  the  Lamb  of  God,  who,  in  the 
fulness  of  time,  was  to  take  away  sin  by  the 
sacrifice  of  himself.  In  both  these  respects, 
the  ceremonial  law  was  abrogated  by  the 
death  of  Christ.  The  Jews  then  ceased  to 
be  God's  peculiar  people  ;  and  Jesus  having 
expiated  sin,  and  brought  in  an  everlasting 
righteousness,  by  his  obedience  unto  death, 
all  other  sacrifices  became  unnecessary  and 
vain.  The  gospel  supplies  the  place  of  the 
ceremonial  law,  to  the  same  advantage  a3 
the  sun  abundantly  compensates  for  the 
twinkling  of  the  stars,  and  the  feeble  glim- 
mering of  the  moon-light,  which  are  con- 
cealed by  its  glory.  Believers  of  old  were 
relieved  from  the  strictness  of  the  moral  law 
by  the  sacrifices  which  pointed  to  Christ. 
Believers  under  the  gospel  are  relieved  by 
a  direct  application  to  the  blood  of  the  cove- 
nant. Both  renounce  any  dependence  on 
the  moral  law  for  justification,  and  both  ac- 
cept it  as  a  rule  of  life  in  the  hands  of  the 
Mediator,  and  are  enabled  to  yield  it  a  sin- 
cere, though  not  a  perfect  obedience. 

If  an  Israelite,  trusting  in  his  obedience 
to  the  moral  law,  had  ventured  to  reject  the 
ordinances  of  the  ceremonial,  he  would  have 
been  cut  off.  In  like  manner,  if  any  who 
are  called  christians  are  so  well  satisfied  with 
their  moral  duties,  that  they  see  no  neces- 
sity of  making  Christ  their  only  hope,  the 
law,  by  which  they  seek  life,  will  be  to  them 
a  ministration  unto  death.  Christ,  and  he 
alone,  delivers  us,  by  faith  in  his  name,  from 
the  curse  of  the  law,  having  been  made  a 
curse  for  us. 

A  second  inquiry  is.  How  we  come  to  know 
the  law  to  be  good?  for  naturally  we  do  not, 
we  cannot  think  so.  We  cannot  be  at  enmity 
with  God,  and  at  the  same  time  approve  of 
his  law  ;  rather  this  is  the  ground  of  our  dis- 
like to  him,  that  we  conceive  the  law,  by 
which  we  are  to  be  judged,  is  too  strict  in 


178 


ON  THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  THE  LAW. 


[let.  XXX. 


its  precepts,  and  too  severe  in  its  threaten- 
ings ;  and  therefore  men,  so  far  as  in  tliem 
lies,  are  for  alterino-  this  law.  They  think 
it  would  be  better  if  it  required  no  more  than 
we  can  perforin ;  if  it  allowed  us  more  liberty ; 
and  especially  if  it  was  not  armed  against 
transsfressors  with  the  penalty  of  everlasting 
punishment.  This  is  evident  from  the  usual 
pleas  of  unawakened  sinners.  Some  think, 
**  I  am  not  so  bad  as  some  others ;"  by  which 
tliey  mean,  God  will  surely  make  a  differ- 
ence, and  take  favourable  notice  of  what  they 
suppose  c^ood  in  themselves.  Others  plead, 
"  If  I  should  not  obtain  mercy,  what  will  be- 
come of  the  jrreatcr  part  of  mankind  ?"  by 
which  they  plainly  intimate,  that  it  would 
be  hard  and  unjust  in  God  to  punish  such 
multitudes.  Others  endeavour  to  extenuate 
their  sins,  as  Jonathan  once  said,  *'  I  did 
but  taste  a  little  honey,  and  I  must  die :" 
*'  These  passions  are  natural  to  me,  and 
must  I  die  for  indulgino-  them !"  In  short, 
the  spirituality  and  strictness  of  the  law,  its 
severity,  and  its  levelling  effect,  confounding 
all  seeming  differences  in  human  characters, 
and  stopping  every  mouth  without  distinc- 
tion, are  three  properties  of  the  law,  which 
the  natural  man  cannot  allow  to  be  good. 

These  prejudices  against  the  law  can  only 
be  removed  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
It  is  his  office  to  enlighten  and  convince  the 
conscience ;  to  communicate  an  impression 
of  the  majesty,  holiness,  justice,  and  au- 
thority of  the  God  with  whom  we  have  to 
do,  whereby  the  evil  and  desert  of  sin  are 
apprehended.  The  sinner  is  then  stript  of 
all  his  vain  pretences,  is  compelled  to  plead 
guilty,  and  must  justify  his  judge  even  though 
he  should  condemn  him.  It  is  his  office  like- 
wise to  discover  the  grace  and  glory  of  the 
Saviour,  as  having  fulfilled  the  law  for  us, 
and  as  engaged,  by  promise,  to  enable  those 
who  believe  in  him  to  honour  it  with  a  due 
obedience  in  their  own  persons.  Then  a 
change  of  judgment  takes  place,  and  the  sin- 
ner consents  to  the  law,  that  it  is  holy,  just, 
and  good.  Then  the  law  is  acknowledged 
to  be  holy ;  it  manifests  the  holiness  of  God ; 
and  a  conformity  to  it  is  the  perfection  of 
human  nature.  There  can  be  no  excellence 
in  man,  but  so  far  as  he  is  influenced  by  God's 
law;  without  it,  the  greater  his  natural  pow- 
ers and  abilities  are,  he  is  but  so  much  the 
more  detestable  and  mischievous.  It  is  as- 
sented to  as  just,  springing  from  his  indubit- 
able right  and  authority  over  his  creatures, 
and  suited  to  their  dependence  upon  him, 
and  the  abilities  with  which  he  originally 
endowed  them.  And  though  we,  by  sin, 
have  lost  those  abilities,  his  right  remains 
unalienable;  and  therefore  he  can  justly 
punish  transgressors.  And  as  it  is  just  in 
respect  to  God,  so  it  is  good  for  man ;  his 
obedience  to  th=^  law,  and  the  favour  of  God 
therein,  bemg  his  proper  happiness ;  and  it  is 


impossible  for  him  to  be  happy  in  any  other 
way.  Only,  as  I  have  hinted,  to  sinners 
these  things  must  be  applied  according  to  the 
gospel,  and  to  their  new  relation,  by  faith,  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  has  obeyed  the 
law,  and  made  atonement  for  sin  on  their  be- 
half; so  that  through  him  they  are  delivered 
from  condemnation,  and  entitled  to  all  the 
benefits  of  his  obedience.  From  him  like- 
wise they  receive  the  law,  as  a  rule  enforced 
by  his  own  example,  and  their  unspeakable 
obligations  to  his  redeeming  love.  This 
makes  obedience  pleasing,  and  the  strength 
they  derive  from  him  makes  it  easy. 

We  may  now  proceed  to  inquire,  in  the 
last  place.  What  it  is  to  use  the  law  law- 
fully .'  Tiic  expression  implies,  that  it  may 
be  used  unlawfully;  and  it  is  so  by  too  many. 
It  is  not  a  lawful  use  of  the  law  too  seek  jus- 
tification and  acceptance  with  God  by  our 
obedience  to  it;  because  it  is  not  appointed  for 
this  end,  or  capable  of  answering  it,  in  our 
circumstances.  The  very  attempt  is  a  daring 
impeachment  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God ;  for  if  righteousness  could  come  by  the 
law,  then  Christ  has  died  in  vain,  Gal.  ii.  21, 
iii.  21 ;  so  that  such  a  hope  is  not  only  ground- 
less, but  sinful ;  and,  when  persisted  in  un- 
der the  light  of  the  gospel,  is  no  less  than  a 
wilful  rejection  of  the  grace  of  God.  Again, 
it  is  an  unlawful  use  of  the  law,  that  is,  an 
abuse  of  it,  an  abuse  both  of  law  and  gospe', 
to  pretend  that  its  accomplishment  by  Christ 
releases  believers  from  any  obligation  to  it  as 
a  rule.  Such  an  assertion  is  not  only  wicked, 
but  absurd  and  impossible  in  the  highest  de- 
gree ;  for  the  law  is  founded  in  the  relation 
between  the  Creator  and  the  creature,  and 
must  unavoidably  remain  in  force  so  long  as 
that  relation  subsists.  While  he  is  God,  and 
we  are  creatures,  in  every  possible  or  suppos- 
able  change  of  state  or  circumstances,  he  must 
have  an  unrivalled  claim  to  our  reverence, 
love,  trust,  service,  and  submission.  No  true 
believer  can  deliberately  admit  a  thought  or 
a  wish  of  being  released  from  his  obligation 
of  obedience  to  God,  in  whole  or  in  part ;  he 
will  rather  start  from  it  with  abhorrence.  But 
Satan  labours  to  drive  unstable  souls  from 
one  extreme  to  the  other,  and  has  too  often 
succeeded.  Wearied  with  vain  endeavours 
to  keep  the  law,  that  they  might  obtain  life 
by  it,  and  afterwards  taking  up  with  a  notion 
of  the  gospel  devoid  of  power,  they  have  at 
length  despised  that  obedience  which  is  the 
honour  of  a  christian,  and  essentially  belongs 
to  his  character,  and  have  abused  the  grace 
of  God  to  licentiousness.  But  we  have  not 
so  learned  Christ. 

To  speak  affirmatively,  the  law  is  lawfully 
used  as  a  means  of  conviction  of  sin.  For 
this  purpose  it  was  pronmlgated  at  Sinai 
The  law,  entered  that  sin  might  abound :  not 
to  make  men  more  wicked,  though  occasion- 
ally, and  by  abuse,  it  has  that  effect,  but  to 


LET.  XXXI.] 


ON  LOVE  TO  THE  BRETITIIEN. 


fHi 


170 


nake  thcMn  sonsiblo  how  wicked  tlioy  aro. 
naviiijjf  (ukI's  law  in  our  hniuls,  wo  tire  no 
'ttfijror  ti)  form  our  ju(l<;iiuMits  by  the  inaxirns 
■nil  custDins  of  the  world,  whore  evil  is  called 
good,  and  n-cnxl  evil;  but  arc  to  try  every 
principle,  temper,  and  pmctice  by  this  sland- 
arti.  Could  men  be  prevailed  u|)on  to  do 
tliis,  tJiey  would  s<hmi  listiMi  to  the  ijospel  with 
attention.  On  some  the  spirit  of  (JckI  does 
tlius  prevail  ;  then  they  earnestly  make  the 
jailor's  incpiiry,  "  What  nmst  1  do  to  be 
KEved  !"  Here  the  work  of  <;racc  beirins; 
and  the  sinner,  condenmcd  in  his  own  con- 
science, is  broufrht  to  Jesus  for  life. 

Agfain,  when  we  use  the  law  as  a  f^lass,  to 
behold  the  ^lory  of  God,  we  use  it  lawfully. 
His  glory  is  eminently  revealed  in  Christ; 
but  much  of  it  is  with  a  special  reference  to 
the  law,  and  cannot  be  otherwise  discerned. 
We  see  the  perfection  and  excellence  of  the 
Jaw  in  his  life.  Gcxi  was  glorified  by  his  obe- 
dience as  a  man.  What  a  perfect  character 
did  he  exhibit !  yet  it  is  no  other  than  a  tran- 
script of  the  law.  Such  would  iiave  been  the 
character  of  Adam  and  all  his  race,  iiad  the 
law  been  duly  obeyed.  It  appears,  therefore, 
a  wise  and  holy  institution,  fully  capable  of 
displaying  that  perfection  of  conduct  by  which 
man  would  have  answered  the  end  of  liis  crea- 
tion. And  we  sec  the  inviolable  strictness  of 
the  law  in  his  death.  There  the  glory  of  God 
in  the  law  is  manifested.  Though  he  was  the 
beloved  Son,  and  had  yielded  personal  obe- 
dience in  the  utmost  perfection,  yet,  when  he 
stood  in  our  place,  to  make  atonement  for 
sin,  he  was  not  spared.  From  what  he  en- 
dured in  Gethsemane  and  upon  the  cross,  we 
learn  the  meaning  of  that  awful  sentence, 
"The  soul  that  sinneth  shall  die." 

Another  lawful  use  of  the  law  is,  to  con- 
sult it  as  a  rule  and  pattern,  by  which  to  re- 
gulate our  spirit  and  conversation.  The  grace 
of  God,  received  by  faith,  will  dispose  us  to 
obedience  in  general;  but  through  remaining 
darkness  and  ignorance,  we  are  much  at  a  loss 
as  to  particulars.  We  are,  therefore,  sent  to 
the  lavv,  that  we  may  learn  how  to  walk 
worthy  of  God,  who  has  called  us  to  his  king- 
dom and  glory  ;  and  every  precept  has  its 
proper  place  and  use. 

Lastly,  we  use  the  law  lawfully  when  we 
improve  it  as  a  test  whereby  to  judge  of  the 
exercise  of  grace.  Believers  differ  so  much 
from  what  they  once  were,  and  from  what 
many  still  are,  that  without  this  right  use  of 
the  law,  comparing  themselves  with  their 
former  selves,  or  with  others,  they  would  be 
prone  to  think  more  highly  of  their  attain- 
ments than  they  ought.  But  when  they  re- 
cur to  this  standard,  they  sink  into  tlie  dust, 
and  adopt  the  language  of  Job,  "  Behold,  I 
am  vile :  I  cannot  answer  thee  one  of  a  thou- 
sand." 

From  hence  we  may  collect,  in  brief,  how 
he  law  is  good  to  them  that  use  it  lawfully. 


It  furni«hes  them  with  a  comprehenMivo  and 
accurate  view  of  the  will  of  (mmI,  and  tho 
path  of  duty.  By  the  study  of  the  law,  they 
nc<|uire  an  habitual  spiritual  tahte  of  wliat  w 
right  or  wrong.  The  exercined  believer,  like 
a  skilful  workman,  has  a  rule  in  his  linnd, 
whereby  be  can  measure  and  determine  with 
cerUiinty,  whereas  othcr.'^  judge  as  it  were  by 
the  eye,  and  can  only  make  a  randonj  guess, 
in  which  they  are  generally  mistaken.  It 
likewise,  by  reminding  them  of  their  defi- 
ciencies and  short-comings,  is  a  sanctified 
means  of  making  and  keeping  them  humble; 
and  it  exceedingly  endears  Jesus,  the  law- 
fulfiller,  to  their  hearts,  and  puts  them  in 
mhid  of  their  obligations  to  him,  and  of  their 
absolute  dependence  upon  him  every  mo- 
ment 

If  these  reflections  should  prove  acceptable 
to  you,  I  have  my  desire ;  and  I  send  them 
to  you  by  the  press,  in  hopes  tliat  the  Lord 
may  accompany  them  with  his  blessing  to 
others.  The  subject  is  of  great  importance, 
and  were  it  rightly  understood,  might  conduce 
to  settle  some  of  the  angry  controversies 
which  have  been  lately  agitated.  Clearly  to 
understand  the  distinction,  connexion,  and 
harmony  between  the  law  and  the  gospel, 
and  their  mutual  subserviency  to  illustrate 
and  establish  each  other,  is  a  singular  privi- 
lege, and  a  happy  means  of  preserving  the 
soul  from  being  entangled  by  errors  on  the 
right  hand  or  the  left. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXL 
On  Love  to  the  Brethren. 


DEAR  SIR, — The  apostle  having  said 
"Marvel  not,  my  brethren,  if  the  world  hate 
you,"  immediately  subjoins,  "We  know  that 
we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because 
we  love  the  brethren."  By  the  manner  of 
his  expression,  he  sufliciently  intimates,  that 
the  want  of  this  love  is  so  universal,  till  the 
Lord  plants  it  in  the  heart,  that  if  we  possess 
it,  we  may  thereby  be  sure  he  has  given  us 
of  his  Spirit,  and  delivered  us  from  condem- 
nation. But  as  the  heart  is  deceitful,  and 
people  may  be  awfully  mistaken  in  the  judg- 
ment they  form  of  themselves,  we  have  need 
to  be  very  sure  that  we  rightly  understand 
what  it  is  to  love  the  brethren,  before  we 
draw  the  apostle's  conclusion  from  it,  and 
admit  it  as  an  evidence  in  our  own  favour, 
that  we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life. 
Let  me  invite  you,  reader,  to  attend  with  me 
a  little  to  this  subject. 

There  are  some  counterfeits  of  this  love  to 
the  brethren,  which,  it  is  to  be  feared,  have 
often  been  mistaken  for  it,  and  have  led  peo 
pie  to  think  themselves  something,  when,  in- 
deed, they  were  nothing.     For  instance: — 


180 


ON  ftoVE  TO  THE  BRETHREN. 


[let.  XXXI. 


There  is  a  natural  love  of  the  brethren. 
People  may  sincerely  love  their  relations, 
friends,  and  benefactors,  who  arc  of  tlie  brotli- 
ren,  and  yet  be  utter  strangers  to  the  spirit- 
ual love  the  apo.stle  speaks  of,  So  (3rpah  iiad 
a  g-reat  affection  for  Naomi,  thou<(h  it  was  not 
strongs  enou<rh  to  make  her  willing-,  with 
Ruth,  to  leave  her  native  country,  and  her 
idol-gods.  Natural  affection  can  go  no  far- 
ther than  to  a  personal  attachment;  and  tliey 
who  thus  love  the  brethren,  and  upon  no  bet- 
ter ground,  are  often  disgusted  with  those 
things  in  them,  for  which  the  real  brethren 
chiefly  love  one  another. 

Tiiere  is  likewise  a  love  of  convenience. 
The  Lord's  people  are  gentle,  peaceable,  bene- 
volent, swift  to  hear,  slow  to  speak,  slow  to 
wrath.  They  are  desirous  of  adorning  the 
doctrine  of  God  their  Saviour,  and  approving 
themselves  followers  of  him  who  pleased  not 
himself,  but  spent  his  life  in  doing  good  to 
others.  Upon  tliis  account  they  who  are  full 
of  themselves,  and  love  to  have  their  own  way, 
may  like  their  company,  because  they  find 
more  compliances,  and  less  opposition  from 
them,  than  from  such  as  themselves.  For  a 
while  Laban  loved  Jacob:  he  found  him  dili- 
gent and  trust-worthy,  and  perceived  that  the 
Lord  had  prospered  him  upon  Jacob's  ac- 
count; but  when  he  saw  that  Jacob  flourish- 
ed, and  apprehended  he  was  likely  to  do 
without  him,  his  love  was  soon  at  an  end ; 
for  it  was  only  founded  in  self-interest. 

A  party-love  is  also  common.  Tlie  objects 
of  this  are  those  who  are  of  the  same  senti- 
ment, who  worship  in  the  same  way,  or  are 
attached  to  the  same  minister.  They  who  are 
united  in  such  narrow  and  separate  associa- 
tions, may  express  warm  affections,  without 
giving  any  proof  of  true  christian  love ;  for, 
upon  such  grounds  as  these,  not  only  profes- 
sed Christians,  but  Jews  and  Turks,  may  be 
said  to  love  one  another.  Though  it  must  be 
allowed,  that  believers  being  renewed  but  in 
part,  the  love  which  they  bear  to  the  brethren 
is  too  often  debased  and  allayed  by  a  mixture 
of  selfish  affections. 

The  principle  of  true  love  to  the  brethren, 
is  the  LOVE  OF  God,  that  love  which  produceth 
obedience,  1  John  v.  2.  "By  this  we  know  that 
we  love  the  children  of  (Jod,  if  we  love  God, 
and  keep  his  commandments."  When  people 
are  free  to  form  their  connexions  and  friend- 
ships, the  ground  of  tlieir  communion  is  in  a 
sameness  of  inclination.  The  love  spoken  of 
IS  spiritual.  The  children  of  God,  who  tliere- 
fore  stand  in  the  relation  of  brethren  to  each 
other,  though  they  have  too  many  unhappy 
diiferencss  in  points  of  smaller  importance, 
agree  in  the  supreme  love  they  bear  to  their 
h'^avenly  Father,  and  to  Jesus  their  Saviour; 
of  course  they  agree  in  disliking  and  avoiding 
sin,  which  is  contrary  to  the  will  and  com- 
mand of  the  God  whom  they  love  anl  wor- 
ship.    Upoji  these  accounts'  they  love  one 


another,  they  are  like-minded;  and  they  live 
in  a  world  where  the  bulk  of  mankind  are 
against  them,  have  no  regard  their  Beloved, 
and  live  in  the  sinful  practices  which  his  grace 
lias  taught  them  to  hate.  Their  situation, 
therefore,  increases  tlieir  afiection  to  each 
other.  They  are  washed  by  the  same  blood, 
supplied  by  the  same  grace,  opposed  by  the 
eame  enemies,  and  have  the  same  heaven  in 
view ;  therefore  they  love  one  another  with 
a  pure  heart  fervently. 

The  properties  of  this  love,  where  its  ex- 
ercise is  not  greatly  impeded  by  ignorance 
and  bigotry,  are  such  as  prove  its  heavenly 
original.  It  extends  to  all  who  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity,  cannot  be 
confined  within  the  pale  of  a  denomination, 
nor  restrained  to  those  with  whom  it  is  more 
immediately  connected.  It  is  gentle,  and 
not  easily  provoked ;  hopes  the  best,  makes 
allowances  for  infirmities,  and  is  easily  in- 
treated.  It  is  kind  and  compassionate  ;  and 
this,  not  in  words  only,  but  sympathises  with 
the  afflicted,  and  relieves  the  hidigent,  ac- 
cording to  its  ability ;  and  as  it  primarily  re- 
spects the  image  of  Christ  in  its  objects,  it 
feels  a  more  peculiar  attachment  to  those 
whom  it  judges  to  be  the  most  spiritual,  though 
without  undervaluing  or  despising  the  weak- 
est attainments  in  the  true  grace  of  the  gos- 
pel. 

They  are  happy  who  thus  love  the  breth- 
ren. They  have  passed  from  death  unto  life ; 
and  may  plead  this  gracious  disposition, 
though  not  before  the  Lord  as  the  ground  of 
their  hope,  yet  against  Satan,  when  he  would 
tempt  them  to  question  their  right  to  the  pro- 
mises. But  alas !  as  I  before  hinted,  the  ex- 
ercise of  this  love,  when  it  really  is  implanted, 
is  greatly  obstructed  through  the  remaining 
depravity  wdiich  cleaves  to  believers.  We 
cannot  be  too  watchful  against  those  tempers 
which  weaken  the  proper  effects  of  brotherly 
love,  and  thereby  have  a  tendency  to  darken 
the  evidence  of  our  having  passed  from  death 
unto  life.  We  live  in  a  day,  when  the  love 
of  many  (of  whom  we  would  hope  the  best) 
is,  at  least,  grown  very  cold.  The  effects 
of  a  narrow,  suspicious,  a  censorious,  and  a 
selfish  spirit,  are  but  too  evident  amoilgst 
professors  of  the  gospel.  If  I  were  to  insist 
at  large  upon  the  offences  of  this  kind  which 
abound  amongst  us,  I  sho-uld  seem  almost 
reduced  to  the  necessity,  either  of  retract- 
ing what  I  have  advanced,  or  of  maintaining, 
that  a  great  part  (if  not  the  greatest  part)  of 
those  who  profess  to  know  the  Lord,  are  de- 
ceiving themselves  with  a  torm  of  godliness, 
being  destitute  of  its  power :  for  though 
they  may  abound  in  knowledge  and  gifts, 
and  have  much  to  say  upon  the  subject  of 
christian  experience,  they  appear  to  want 
the  g-eat,  the  inimitable,  the  indispensible 
criterion  of  true  Christianity,  a  love  to  the 
br  nhren ;   without  which   all  other  seem- 


LET.  XXXII.] 


in<j  ndvnntnjjos  and  attainments  are  of  no 
avail.  lIoNV  is  this  disagreeable  dilenuna  to 
bo  avoided  ! 

I  believe  th«'y  who  are  most  tmdor  the  in- 
fluenoo  of  divine  love,  will  join  wilh  nie  in 
lamentinjj  their  deficiency.  It  is  well  that 
we  are  not  under  the  law,  but  under  jjrac*' ; 
for  on  wh.'itever  |x>int  we  try  ourselves  by 
the  standard  of  the  sanctuary,  we  shall  find 
reason  to  say,  "  Hnter  not  int(»  judnfinent  wilh 
thy  servant,  O  l-ord."  'I'liere  is  an  uuiazinof 
and  humbliiinf  diflcn^nce  between  the  con- 
fiction  we  have  of  the  beauty  and  excellence 
of  divine  truths,  and  our  actual  experience 
of  their  power  rulinnr  in  our  hearts.  In  our 
happiest  hours,  when  we  are  most  aflccted 
with  the  love  of  Jesus,  we  feel  our  love  fer- 
vent towards  his  people.  We  wish  it  were 
always  so ;  biit  wo  are  poor,  inconsistent  crea- 
tures, and  fuid  wo  can  do  nothinn;'  as  wo 
ourrht,  but  as  we  are  enabled  by  his  grace. 
But  we  trust  we  do  not  allow  ourselves  in 
what  is  wronnf ;  and,  notwitlistanding'  we 
may,  in  particular  instances,  bo  misled  by 
ignorance  and  prejudice,  we  do  in  our  hearts 
love  the  brethren,  account  them  the  excel- 
lent of  the  earth,  and  desire  to  have  our  lot 
and  portion  with  them  in  time  and  in  eter- 
nity. We  know  that  the  love  wo  boar  them 
is  tor  his  sake ;  and  when  wo  consider  his 
interest  in  them,  and  our  oblif^ations  to  him, 
we  are  ashamed  and  grieved  that  we  love 
them  no  bettor. 

If  we  could  not  conscientiously  say  thus 
much,  we  should  have  just  reason  to  ques- 
tion our  sincerity,  and  the  safety  of  our  state ; 
for  the  scriptures  cannot  be  broken;  nor  can 
the  grace  of  God  fail  of  producing,  in  some 
degree,  its  proper  fruits.  Our  Saviour,  be- 
fore whom  we  must  shortly  appear  as  otir 
judge,  has  made  love  the  characteristic  of 
his  disciples ;  and  without  some  evidence 
tliat  this  is  the  prevailing  disposition  of  our 
hearts,  wo  could  find  little  comfort  in  call- 
ing him  God.  Let  not  this  be  accounted 
legality,  as  if  our  dependence  was  upon 
something  in  ourselves.  The  question  is  not 
concerning  the  method  of  acceptance  with 
God,  but  concerning  the  fruits  or  tokens  of 
an  accepted  state.  The  most  eminent  of 
these,  by  our  Lord's  express  declaration,  is 
brotherly  love.  "  By  this  shall  all  men  know 
that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  yo  love  one  ano- 
ther." No  words  can  be  plainer ;  and  the 
consequence  is  equally  plain,  however  hard 
it  may  bear  upon  many  professors,  that 
though  they  could  speak  with  the  tongues 
of  angels,  had  the  knowledge  of  all  myste- 
ries, a  power  of  working  miracles,  and  a 
zeal  prompting  them  to  give  their  bodies  to 
be  burned  in  defence  of  the  trutli;  yet  if 
they  love  not  the  brethren,  they  are  but  as 
Bounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbals :  they 
may  make  a  great  noise  in  the  church  and 
in  the  world;  they  may  be  wise  and  able 


ON  CANDOUR. 


191 


men,  as  the  words  are  now  fn-qur'ntly  under- 
st(K)(l ;  they  may  pray  «r  prencli  with  ^'n-at 
fluonry;  but  in  the  sight  of  (J(m1  iheir  fnith 
is  dead,  and  their  religion  is  vain. — 1  uni,  dtc. 


LETTER  XXXIL 
On  Candour. 

DEAR  .SIR, — I  am  with  you  an  admirer  of 
candour;  but  let  us  beware  of  counterfeits. 
True  candour  is  a  christian  grace,  and  will 
grow  in  no  soil  but  a  believing  heart.  It  is 
an  eminent  and  amiable  property  of  that  love 
which  beareth,  believeth,  hopeth,  and  en- 
durcth  all  things.  It  forms  the  most  favour- 
able judgment  of  pontons  and  characters,  and 
puts  the  kindest  construction  upon  the  con- 
duct of  others  that  it  possibly  can,  consistent 
with  the  love  of  truth.  It  makes  due  allow- 
ances for  the  infirmities  of  human  nature, 
will  not  listen  with  pleasure  to  what  is  said 
to  the  disadvantage  of  any,  nor  repeat  it 
without  a  justifiable  cause.  It  will  not  be 
confined  within  the  walls  of  a  party,  nor  re- 
strain the  actings  of  benevolence  to  those 
whom  it  fully  approves;  but  prompts  the 
mind  to  an  imitation  of  Him  who  is  kind  to 
the  evil  and  the  unthankful,  and  has  taught 
us  to  consider  every  person  we  see  as  our 
neighbour. 

Such  is  the  candour  which  I  wish  to  de- 
rive from  the  gospel :  and  I  am  persuaded, 
they  who  have  imbibed  most  of  this  spirit, 
will  acknowledge  that  they  are  still  defec- 
tive in  it.  There  is  an  unhappy  propensity, 
even  in  good  men,  to  a  selfish,  narrow,  cen- 
sorious turn  of  mind;  and  the  best  are  more 
under  the  power  of  prejudice  than  they  are 
aware.  A  want  of  candour  among  the  pro- 
fessors of  the  same  gospel,  is  too  visible  in 
the  present  day.  A  truly  candid  person  will 
acknowledge  what  is  right,and  excellent  in 
those  from  whom  ho  may  be  obliged  to  dif- 
fer ;  he  will  not  charge  the  faults  or  extrava- 
gances of  a  few  upon  a  whole  party  or  de- 
nomination. If  he  thinks  it  his  duty  to  point 
out  or  refute  the  errors  of  any  persons,  he 
will  not  impute  to  them  such  consequences 
of  their  tenets  as  they  expressly  disavow ; 
he  will  not  wilfully  misrepresent  or  aggra- 
vate their  mistakes,  or  make  them  ofienders 
for  a  word :  he  will  keep  in  view  the  distinc- 
tion between  those  things  which  are  funda- 
mental and  essential  to  the  christian  life,  and 
those  concerning  which  a  difference  of  senti- 
ment may,  and  often  has,  obtained  among 
true  believers.  Were  there  more  candour 
among  those  who  profess  to  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity,  the  emotions  of 
anger  or  scorn  would  not  be  so  often  felt  or 
excited,  by  pronouncing  or  hearing  the  words, 
churchman,  or  dissenter,  or  Calvinist,  or  even 


182 


ON  CANDOUR. 


[let.  XXXII. 


Arminian.  Let  us,  my  friend,  be  candid  ;  let 
us  remember  how  totally  ig-norant  we  our- 
selves once  were,  how  often  we  lm,ve  ciiangfed 
our  sentiments  in  one  particular  or  other, 
since  we  first  eng-aged  in  the  search  of  truth; 
how  often  we  have  been  imposed  upon  by 
appearances  ;  and  to  how  many  diflerent  per- 
sons and  occurrences  we  have  been  indebted, 
under  God,  for  the  knowledgre  which  we 
have  already  attained.  Let  us  likewise  con- 
sider what  treatment  we  like  to  meet  with 
from  others ;  and  do  unto  them  as  we  would 
they  should  do  unto  us.  These  considera- 
tions will  make  the  exercise  of  candour  ha- 
bitual and  easy. 

But  there  is  a  candour,  falsely  so  called, 
which  springs  from  an  indifference  to  the 
truth,  and  is  governed  by  the  fear  of  men 
and  the  love  of  praise.  This  pretended  can- 
dour depreciates  the  most  important  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel,  and  treats  them  as  points 
of  speculation  and  opinion.  It  is  a  tempo- 
rizing" expedient  to  stand  fair  with  the  world, 
and  to  avoid  that  odium  which  is  the  un- 
avoidable consequence  of  a  steadfast,  open, 
and  hearty  adherence  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus.  It  aims  to  establish  an  intercommu- 
nity between  lig-ht  and  darkness,  Christ  and 
Belial ;  and,  under  a  pretence  of  avoiding- 
harsh  and  uncharitable  judgments,  it  intro- 
duces a  mutual  connivance  in  principles  and 
practices,  which  are  already  expressly  con- 
demned by  clear  decisions  of  scripture.  Let 
us  not  listen  to  the  advocates  for  a  candour 
of  this  sort ;  such  a  lukewarm  temper  in 
those,  who  would  be  thought  the  friends,  of 
the  gospel,  is  treason  against  God  and  trea- 
chery to  the  souls  of  men.  It  is  observable 
that  they  who  boast  most  of  this  candour, 
and  pretend  to  the  most  enlarged  and  liberal 
way  of  thinking,  are  generally  agreed  to  ex- 
clude from  their  comprehension  all  whom 
they  call  bigots;  that  is,  in  other  words, 
those  who,  having  been  led  by  divine  grace 
to  build  their  hopes  upon  the  foundation 
which  God  has  laid  in  Zion,  are  free  to  de- 
clare their  conviction  that  other  foundation 
can  no  man  lay  ;  and  who,  having  seen  that 
the  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with 
God,  dare  no  longer  conform  to  its  leading 
maxims  or  customs,  nor  express  a  favoura- 
ble judgment  of  the  state  or  conduct  of  those 
who  do.  Candour  itself  knows  not  how  to 
be  candid  to  these  :  their  singularity  and  im- 
portunity are  offensive  ;  and  it  is  thought  no 
way  inconsistent  with  the  specious  boast  of 
benevolence  and  moderation  to  oppose,  hate, 
and  revile  them.  A  sufficient  proof  that  the 
candour  which  many  plead  for  is  only  a  softer 
name  for  that  spirit  of  the  world  which  op- 
poses itself  to  the  truth  and  obedience  of  the 
gospel. 

If  a  person  be  an  avowed  Socinian  or  deist, 
I  am  still  to  treat  him  with  candour  ;  he  has 
a  right  from  me,  so  far  as  he  comes  in  my 


way,  to  all  the  kind  offices  of  humanity.  I 
am  not  to  hate,  reproach,  or  affront  him,  or 
to  detract  from  what  may  be  valuable  in  his 
character,  considered  as  a  member  of  society. 
I  may  avail  myself  of  his  talents  and  abili- 
ties in  points  where  I  am  not  in  danger  of 
being  misled  by  him.  He  may  be  a  good 
lawyer,  or  historian,  or  physician ;  and  I  am 
not  to  lessen  him  in  these  respects  because 
I  cannot  commend  him  as  a  divine.  1  am 
bound  to  pity  his  errors,  and  to  pray  if  per- 
adventure  God  will  give  him  repentance  to 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  truth;  and,  if  I 
have  a  call  to  converse  with  him,  I  should 
speak  with  all  gentleness  and  meekness,  re- 
membering that  grace  alone  has  made  me  to 
differ.  But  I  am  not  to  compliment  him,  to 
insinuate,  or  even  to  admit,  that  there  can  be 
any  safety  in  his  principles.  Far  be  that  can- 
dour from  us,  which  represents  the  scriptures 
as  a  nose  of  wax,  so  that  a  person  may  reject 
or  elude  the  testimonies  there  given  to  the 
deity  and  atonement  of  Christ,  and  the  all-pow- 
erful agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  w^ith  impunity. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  who  hold  the  Head, 
who  have  received  the  record  which  God  hath 
given  of  his  Son;  who  have  scriptural  views 
of  sin  and  grace,  and  fix  their  hopes  for  time 
and  eternity  upon  the  Saviour;  in  a  word,  all 
who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity; 
— these,  I  apprehend,  if  they  are  prevented 
from  receiving,  acknowledging,  and  loving 
each  other,  as  he  has  received,  owned,  and 
loved  them,  are  justly  chargeable  with  a  want 
of  candour.  Shall  I  be  cold  to  those  whom 
Jesus  loves'?  Shall  I  refuse  them  whom  he 
has  accepted?  I  find,  perhaps,  that  they  can- 
not rightly  understand,  and  therefore  cannot 
readily  embrace,  some  points  of  doctrine  in 
which  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  enlighten 
me ;  that  is,  I  (supposing  my  knowledge  to 
be  real  and  experimental)  have  received  five 
talents,  and  they  have  as  yet  obtained  but 
two :  must  I  for  this  estrange  myself  from 
them  ?  Rather  let  me  be  careful,  lest  they  be 
found  more  faithful  and  exemplary  in  the 
improvement  of  two  talents,  than  I  am  in  the 
management  of  five.  Again,  why  should  some 
of  those  who  know,  or  might  know,  that  my 
hope,  my  way,  my  end,  and  my  enemies  are 
the  same  with  theirs,  stand  aloof  from  me,  and 
treat  me  with  coldness  and  suspicion  because 
I  am  called  a  Calvinist  ]  I  was  not  born  a 
Calvinist,  and  possibly  they  may  not  die  as 
they  are.  However  that  may  be,  if  our  hearts 
are  fixed  upon  the  same  Jesus,  we  shall  be 
perfectly  of  one  mind  ere  long:  why  should 
we  not  encourage  and  strengthen  one  another 
now  ]  O  that  the  arm  of  the  Lord  might  be 
revealed,  to  revive  that  candour  which  the 
apostle  so  strongly  enforces  both  by  precept 
and  example !  Then  the  strong  would  bear 
the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  believers 
would  receive  each  other  without  doubtful 
disputation. 


LET.  XXXIII 


(I.)  ON  MAN  IN  III5=?  FALLKN  KSTATE. 


183 


Once  inorp,  liowcvor  sound  and  orthodox 
(as  the  phrase  is)  protrsMJrs  iimy  bo  in  tht'ir 
principles,  tljoiiijh  true  candour  will  make 
tender  nllowauj'es  tor  the  frailty  of  nature 
and  the  power  of  ttMuptation,  y«"t  neithercan- 
dour  nor  charity  will  retpiire  us  to  accept  them 
as  real  believers,  unless  the  «j(Mieral  strain 
and  tenor  of  their  de|K)rtnient  be  as  becoineth 
the  ijospel  of  Christ.  It  is  to  he  hnnented  that 
tcK)  many  jndije  rather  by  the  notions  which 
people  express  than  by  the  fruits  which  they 
produce;  and.  as  they  jud<^o  of  others,  so  they 
otlen  judixe  of  themselves.  We  cannot  have 
opportunity  to  siiy  all  we  could  wish,  and  to 
all  to  whom  we  would  wish  to  say  it,  upon 
this  subject,  in  private  life ;  theretbrc  it  is 
the  wisdom  and  duty  of  those  who  preacli, 
and  of  those  who  print,  to  drop  a  word  of  cau- 
tion in  the  way  of  their  hearers  and  readers, 
that  they  may  not  mistake  notion  for  life,  nor 
a  form  of  nrodliness  for  the  power.  The  jrrace 
of  God  is  an  operative  principle,  and,  where 
it  really  has  place  in  the  heart,  the  effects  will 
be  seen,  (Acts  xi.  23;)  effects  so  uniform  and 
extensive  that  the  ajxDstle  James  makes  one 
single  branch  of  conduct,  and  that  such  a  one 
as  is  not  usually  thoug-ht  the  most  important, 
a  sufficient  test  of  our  state  before  God ;  for  he 
affirms  universally,  that  if  any  man  seem  to 
be  religious,  and  ''  bridleth  not  his  tongue, 
his  religion  is  vain :"  and  again  he  assures  us, 
that  "  whoever  will  be  a  frieml  of  the  world  is 
the  enemy  of  God :"  and  to  the  same  purpose, 
Paul  expresses  himself  on  the  subject  of  love 
(that  love  which  he  describes  so  accurately 
that  none  can  mistake  it  unless  they  willingly 
deceive  themselves,)  he  declares  that,  without 
this  love,  the  brightest  knowledge,  the  warm- 
est zeal,  and  the  most  splendid  gifts,  are  no- 
thing worth.  It  is  to  be  feared  these  deci- 
sions will  bear  hard  upon  many  who  have  a 
name  to  live  among  the  cliurches  of  Christ. 
They  are  hearers  and  approvers  of  the  gos- 
pel, and  express  a  regard  for  those  who  preach 
it :  they  will  stickle  and  fight  for  the  doc- 
trines, and  know  not  how  to  bear  those  who 
fall  a  hair's  breadth  short  of  their  standard, 
and  yet  there  is  so  much  levity  or  pride,  cen- 
soriousness  or  worldliness,  discoverable  in 
their  general  behaviour,  that  their  characters 
appear  very  dubious;  and,  though  wo  are 
bound  to  wish  them  well,  candour  will  not 
oblige  or  warrant  us  to  judge  favourably  of 
such  conduct;  for  the  unerring  word  of  God 
is  the  standard  to  which  our  judgments  are 
to  be  referred  and  conformed. 

In  the  sense,  and  under  the  limitations 
which  I  have  expressed,  we  ought  to  cultivate 
a  candid  spirit,  and  learn  from  the  experience 
of  our  ow^n  weakness  to  be  gentle  and  tender 
to  others,  avoiding,  at  the  same  time,  that  in- 
difference and  cowardice  which,  under  the 
name  of  candour,  countenances  error,  extenu- 
ates sin,  and  derogates  from  the  authority 
of  scripture. — I  am,  &,c. 


i.rrTKR  \.\xiir. 

(1.)  On  Man  in  his  FalUn  Estate. 
"  Iii)rd  what  is  Man  !" 

DKAR  SIR, — We  hear  much  in  the  prosont 

day  of  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  and  it  is 
allowed  that  man  wa.s  an  excellent  creature 
as  he  came  out  of  the  hands  of  (jod  ;  but,  if 
we  consider  this  cpjestion  witjj  a  view  to 
fallen  man  as  depraved  by  sin,  how  can  we 
but  join  with  the  psalmist  in  wonder  that 
the  great  God  should  make  any  account  of 
him. 

Fallen  as  man  is  from  his  original  state  of 
happiness  and  holiness,  his  natural  faculties 
and  abilities  afford  sufficient  evidence  that  the 
hand  which  made  him  is  divine.  He  is  ca- 
pable of  great  things:  his  understanding,  will, 
affections,  imagination,  and  memory  are  noble 
and  amazing  powers.  But  view  him  in  a  mo- 
ral ligiit,  as  an  intelligent  being,  incessantly 
dependent  upon  (iod,  accountable  to  him,  and 
appointed  by  him  to  a  state  of  existence  in  an 
unchangeable  world.  Considered  in  this  re- 
lation, man  is  a  monster,  a  vile,  base,  stupid, 
obstinate,  and  mischievous  creature:  no  words 
can  fully  describe  him.  Man,  with  all  his 
boasted  understanding  and  attainments  is  a 
fool.  So  long  as  he  is  destitute  of  the  saving 
grace  of  God,  his  conduct,  as  to  his  rnost  im- 
portant concernments,  is  more  absurd  and 
inconsistent  than  that  of  the  meanest  idiot ; 
with  respect  to  his  affections  and  pursuits, 
he  is  degraded  far  below  the  beasts ;  and, 
for  the  malignity  and  wickedness  of  his  will, 
can  be  compared  to  nothing  so  properly  as 
the  devil. 

The  question  here  is  not  concerning  this  or 
that  man,  a  Nero  or  a  Heliogabulus,  but  con- 
cerning human  nature,  the  whole  race  of  man- 
kind, the  few  excepted  who  are  born  of  God. 
There  is  indeed  a  difference  among  men,  but 
it  is  owing  to  the  restraints  of  divine  provi- 
dence, without  which  earth  would  be  the  very 
image  of  hell.  A  wolf  or  a  lion,  while  chained, 
cannot  do  so  much  mischief  as  if  they  were 
loose ;  but  the  nature  is  the  same  in  the  whole 
species.  Education  and  interest,  fear  and 
shame,  human  laws,  and  the  secret  power  of 
God  over  the  mind,  combine  to  form  many- 
characters,  that  are  externally  decent  and  re- 
spectable ;  and  even  the  most  abandoned  are 
under  a  restraint  which  prevents  them  from 
manifesting  a  thousandth  part  of  the  wicked- 
ness which  is  in  their  hearts;  but  the  heart 
itself  is  universally  deceitful  and  desperately 
wicked. 

Man  is  a  fool. — He  can,  indeed,  measure  the 
earth,  and  almost  count  the  stars  :  he  abounds 
in  arts  and  inventions,  in  science  and  policy ; 
and  shall  he  then  be  called  a  fool !  The 
ancient  heathens,  the  inhabitants  of  Egypt, 
Greece,  and  Rome,  were  eminent  for  thiskinel 
of  wisdom.     They  are  to  this  day  studied  as 


181 


(1.)  ON  MAN  IN  HIS  FALLEN  ESTATE. 


[let.  XXXII7. 


models  by  those  who  aim  to  excel  in  liistory, 
poetry,  paiiitinf^,  arcliitccture,  and  other  ex- 
ertions of  human  {renins,  which  are  suited  to 
polish  the  manners  without  improving  the 
heart;  but  their  most  admired  philosophers, 
legislators,  log-icians,  orators,  and  artists,  were 
as  destitute,  as  infants  or  idiots,  of  tliat  know- 
ledcre  which  alone  deserves  the  name  of  true 
wisdom.  Professing-  themselves  to  be  wise, 
they  became  fools.  Ignorant  and  regardless 
of  God,  yet  conscious  of  their  weakness  and 
of  their  dependence  upon  a  power  above  their 
own,  and  stimulated  by  an  inward  principle 
of  fear,  of  which  they  knew  neither  the  ori- 
gin nor  right  application,  they  worshipped 
the  creature  instead  of  the  Creator;  yea, 
placed  their  trust  in  stocks  and  stones,  in  the 
work  of  men's  hands,  in  nonentities  and  chi- 
meras. An  acquaintance  with  their  mytho- 
logy, or  system  of  religious  fables,  passes  with 
us  for  a  considerable  brancli  of  learning,  be- 
cause it  is  drawn  from  ancient  books  written 
in  languages  not  known  to  the  vulgar ;  but, 
in  point  of  certainty  or  truth,  we  might  re- 
ceive as  much  satisfaction  from  a  collection  of 
dreams,  or  from  the  ravings  of  lunatics.  If, 
therefore,  we  admit  these  admired  sages  as  a 
tolerable  specimen  of  mankind,  must  we  not 
confess  that  man  in  his  best  estate,  while  un- 
instructed  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  is  a  fool  1 
But  are  we  wuser  than  they  ]  Not  in  the 
least,  till  the  grace  of  God  makes  us  so.  Our 
superior  advantages  only  show  our  folly  in  a 
more  striking  light.  Why  do  we  account  any 
persons  foolish  I  A  fool  has  no  sound  judg- 
ment: he  is  governed  wholly  by  appearances, 
and  would  prefer  a  fine  coat  to  the  writings 
of  a  large  estate :  he  pays  no  regard  to  con- 
sequences. Fools  have  sometimes  hurt  or 
killed  their  best  friends,  and  thought  that  they 
did  no  harm.  A  fool  cannot  reason,  there- 
fore arguments  are  lost  upon  him.  At  one 
time,  if  tied  with  a  straw,  he  dares  not  stir; 
at  another  time,  perhaps,  he  can  hardly  be 
persuaded  to  move,  though  the  house  were  on 
fire.  Are  these  the  characteristics  of  a  fool? 
Then  there  is  no  fool  like  the  sinner,  who 
prefers  the  toys  of  earth  to  the  happiness  of 
heaven;  who  is  held  in  bondage  by  the  fool- 
ish customs  of  the  world,  and  is  more  afraid 
of  the  breath  of  man  than  of  the  wrath  of 
God. 

Again,  man  in  his  natural  state  is  a  beast, 
yea,  below  the  beasts  that  perish.  In  two 
things  he  strongly  resembles  them ;  in  looking 
no  higher  than  to  sensual  gratifications,  and 
in  that  selfishness  of  spirit  which  prompts  him 
to  propose  himself  and  his  own  interest  as  his 
proper  and  highest  end.  But  in  many  re- 
spects he  sinks  sadly  beneath  them.  Unna- 
tural lusts,  and  the  want  of  natural  affection 
towards  their  offspring,  are  abominations  not 
to  be  found  among  the  brute  creation.  What 
shall  we  say  of  mothers  destroying  their 
children  with  their  own  hands,  or  of  the  hor- 


rid act  of  self-murder !  Men  are  worse  than* 
beasts,  likewise,  in  their  obstinacy ;  they  will 
not  be  warned.  If  a  beast  escapes  from  a 
trap,  he  will  be  cautious  how  he  goes  neai 
it  again,  and  in  vain  is  the  net  spread  in  the 
sight  of  any  bird:  but  man,  though  he  be  of- 
ten reproved;  hardens  his  neck ;  he  rushes 
upon  his  ruin  with  his  eyes  open,  and  can- 
defy  God  to  his  face,  and  dare  damnation. 

Once  more,  let  us  observe  how  man  re- 
sembles the  devil.     There  are  spiritual  sins, 
and  from  these  in  their  height  the  scriptures 
teach  us  to  judge  of  Satan's  character.  Every 
feature  in  this  description  is  strong  in  man  ; 
so  that  what  our  Lord  said  to  the  Jews  is  of 
general  application,  "  Ye  are  of  your  father 
the  devil,  and  the  lust  of  your  father  that  you 
will  do."     Man  resembles  Satan   in   pride. 
This  stupid  wicked  creature  values  himself 
upon  his  wisdom,  power,  and  virtue,  and  will 
talk  of  being  saved  by  his  good  works:  though, 
if  he  can,  Satan  himself  need  not  despair 
He  resembles  him  in  malice ;  and  this  diabo- 
lical disposition   often   proceeds  to  murder, 
and  would  daily,  if  the  Lord  did  not  restrain 
it.     He  derives  from  Satan  the  hateful  spirit 
of  envy :  he  is  often  tormented  beyond  ex- 
pression, by  beholding  the  prosperity  of  his 
neighbours;  and  proportionably  pleased  with 
their  calamities,  though  he  gains  no  other- 
advantage  from  them  than  the  gratification:, 
of  this  rancorous  principle.     He  bears  the 
image  likewise  of  Satan  in  his  cruelty.  This- 
evil  is  bound  up  in  the  heart  even  of  a  child. 
A  disposition  to  take  pleasure  in  giving  pain 
to  others  appears  very  early.     Children,  if 
left  to  themselves,  soon  feel  a  gratification  in. 
torturing  insects  and  animals.    What  misery 
does  the  wanton  cruelty  of  men  inflict  upon 
cocks,  dogs,  bulls,  bears,  and  other  creatures, 
which,  they  seem  to  think,  were  formed  for- 
no  other  end  than  to  feast  their  savage  spirits 
with  their  torments !     If  we  form  our  judg- 
ment of  men,  when  they  seem  most  pleased,, 
and  have  neither  anger  nor  resentment  to 
plead  in  their  excuse,  it  is  too  evident,  even 
from  the  nature  of  their  amusements,  whose 
they  are,  and  whom  they  serve ;  and  they  are 
the  worst  of  enemies  to  each  other.     Think 
of  the  horrors  of  war,  the  rage  of  duellists,, 
of  the  murders  and  assassinations  with  which 
the  world  is  filled,  and   then   say,   "  Lord, 
what    is    man!"      Farther,    if   deceit    and- 
treachery  belong  to  Satan's  character,  then^ 
surely  man  resembles  him.     Is  not  the  uni- 
versal observation  and  complaint  of  all  ages 
an  affecting  comment   upon   the   prophet's 
words,  "  Trust  ye  not  in  a  friend,  put  not 
confidence  in  a  guide,  keep  the  doors  of  thy 
mouth  from  her  that  lieth  in  thy  bosom,  for 
they  hunt  every  man  his  brother  with  a  net!'* 
How  many  have  at  this  moment  cause  to  say 
with  David,  "  The  words  of  his  mouth  were 
smoother  than   butter,  but  war  was  in  his 
heart:  his  words  were  soft:er  tlian  oil,  yet 


LTT.  XXXIV.] 


(2.)  ON  MAN  IN  HIS  FALLKN  KSTATR 


195 


wpro  thoy  drawn  swortls  I"  Afjaiii,  liko 
SutHM,  men  aro  oajjor  in  t«Mnptinij  others  to 
sin.  Not  C()nt«M»t  to  ilunin  themselves,  they 
euiploy  all  their  arts  and  intliienee  to  draw 
as  many  as  tliey  can  with  them  into  the  same 
(h>stru<'lion.  j^^tly,  in  direct  opjx>sition  to 
(nxl  and  «T(x>dness,  in  contemptnons  enmity 
to  tlio  j^ospel  of  his  <,''raee,  and  a  bitter  per- 
seeutinor  spirit  ajjainst  those -who  proless  it, 
Satan  himselt'  can  liardly  exceed  them. 
Herein,  indeed,  they  are  his  aijfents  and  will- 
inij  servants;  and  becanse  the  bU'ssed  Gcul 
is  himseh*  ont  of  their  reach,  they  labour  to 
show  their  despite  to  him  in  the  persons  of 
his  people. 

I  have  drawn  but  a  sketch,  a  few  outlines, 
of  the  picture  of  fallen  man.  To  jrive  an 
exact  copy  of  him,  to  charnfe  every  teature 
with  its  full  afjf^ravation  of  horror,  and  to 
paint  him  as  he  is,  would  bo  impossible. 
Enoufrh  has  been  observed  to  illustrate  the 
propriety  of  the  e.xclamation,  "  Lord,  what 
is  man  1"  Perhaps  some  of  my  readers  may 
attempt  to  deny  or  e.xtenuate  the  charfro, 
and  may  plead  that  I  have  not  been  describ- 
inor  mankind,  but  some  of  the  most  abandoned 
of  the  species,  who  hardly  deserve  the  name 
of  men.  But  I  have  already  provided  against 
this  exception.  It  is  human  nature  I  de- 
scribe ;  and  the  vilest  and  most  profligate  in- 
dividuals cannot  sin  beyond  the  powers  and 
limits  of  that  nature  which  they  possess  in 
common  with  the  more  mild  and  moderate. 
Though  there  may  be  a  difference  in  the 
fruitfulness  of  trees,  yet  the  production  of 
one  apple  decides  the  nature  of  the  tree  upon 
which  it  grew,  as  certainly  as  if  it  had  pro- 
duced a  thousand ;  so  in  the  present  case, 
should  it  be  allowed  that  these  enormities 
cannot  be  found  in  all  persons,  it  would  be  a 
sufficient  confirmation  of  what  I  have  ad- 
vanced, if  they  can  be  found  in  any ;  unless 
it  could  be  likewise  proved,  that  those  who 
appeared  more  wricked  than  others  wore  of 
a  different  species  from  the  rest.  But  I  need 
not  make  this  concession  ;  they  must  be  in- 
sensible indeed,  who  do  not  feel  something 
within  them  so  very  contrary  to  our  common 
notions  of  goodness,  as  would  perhaps  make 
them  rather  submit  to  be  banished  from  hu- 
man society,  than  to  be  compelled  bona  fide 
to  disclose  to  their  fellow-creatures  every 
thought  and  desire  which  arises  in  their 
nearts. 

Many  useful  reflections  may  be  drawn 
fnan  this  nnpleasing  subject.  We  cannot 
at  present  conceive  how  much  we  owe  to 
the  guardian  care  of  divine  providence,  that 
any  of  us  are  preserved  in  peace  and  safety 
for  a  single  day,  in  such  a  world  as  this 
Live  where  we  will,  we  have  those  near  us, 
who,  both  by  nature,  and  by  the  power  which 
Satan  ftis  over  them,  are  capable  of  the  most 
atrocious  crimes.  But  he  whom  they  know 
not,  restrains  tliem,  so  that  they  cannot  do 
2A 


the  things  that  they  would.  When  )\'-  -<<^ 
pend.s  the  restraint,  they  act  immr'l 
then  we  hear  of  murders,  rup"s,  and  out ; 
But  did  not  the  Lord  reign  with  a  htrong- 
hand,  such  evils  would  be  perpetrated  every 
hour,  and  no  one  would  be  .«afe  in  liic  house 
or  in  the  field.  His  ordinance  of  civil  go- 
vernment is  one  great  means  of  preservmg 
the  j)eace  of  society;  but  this  is  in  many 
cases  inadecjuate.  'riie  heart  of  man,  when 
fully  bent  upon  evil,  will  not  be  intimidated 
or  sfopt  by  gibbets  or  racks. 

How  wonderful  is  the  love  of  Cod  in  giv- 
ing his  Son  to  die  for  such  wretches!  And 
iiow  strong  and  absolute  is  the  necessity  of 
a  new  birth  if  we  would  be  happy  !  Can 
beasts  and  devils  inherit  tjie  kingdom  of 
Cod  !  The  due  consideration  of  this  subject 
is  likewise  needful,  to  preserve  believers  in 
an  humble,  thankful,  watchful  frame  of  spirit. 
Such  we  once  were,  and  such,  with  respect 
to  the  natural  principle  remaining  in  us, 
which  the  apostle  calls  the  flesh,  or  the  old 
man,  we  still  are.  The  propensities  of  fallen 
nature  are  not  eradicated  in  the  children  of 
Cod,  though  by  grace  they  are  made  parta- 
kers of  a  new  principle,  wliich  enables  them, 
in  the  Lord's  strength,  to  resist  and  mortify 
the  body  of  sin,  so  that  it  cannot  reign  in 
them.  Yet  they  are  liable  to  sad  surprisals; 
and  the  histories  of  Aaron,  David,  Solomon, 
and  Peter,  are  left  on  record,  to  teach  us 
what  evil  is  latent  in  the  hearts  of  the  best 
men,  and  what  they  are  capable  of  doing,  if 
lefl  but  a  little  to  themselves.  "  Lord,  what 
is  man  !" — I  am,  &:c. 


LETTER  XXXIV. 

(2.)  On  Man  in  his  Fallen  Estate, 

"  Lord,  what  is  man !" 

DEAR  SIR, — The  nature  of  fallen  man 
agrees  to  the  description  the  apostle  has 
given  us  of  his  boasted  wisdom  :  it  is  earthly, 
sensual,  devilish.  I  have  attempted  some 
general  delineation  of  it  in  the  preceding 
letter;  but  the  height  of  its  malignity  can- 
not be  properly  estimated,  unless  we  con- 
sider its  actings  with  respect  to  the  light  of 
the  gospel.  The  Jews  were  extremely 
wicked  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's  appearance 
upon  earth ;  yet  he  said  of  them,  "  If  I  had 
not  come  and  spoken  to  you,  ye  had  not  had 
sin  ;*'  that  is,  as  the  light  and  power  of  his 
ministry  deprived  them  of  all  excuse  for  con- 
tinuing in  sin,  so  it  proved  the  occasion  of 
showing  their  wickedness  in  the  most  aggra- 
vated manner;  and  all  their  other  sins  were 
but  faint  proofs  of  the  true  state  of  their 
hearts,  if  compared  with  the  discovery  they 
made  of  themselves,  by  their  pertinacious 


186 


(2.)  ON  MAN  IN  HIS  FALLEN  ESTATE. 


[let.  XXXIV. 


opposition  to  him.  In  this  sense,  what  the 
apostle  lias  observed  of  the  law  of  Moses, 
may  be  applied  to  the  orospel  of  Christ:  it 
entered,  that  sin  mig-ht  abound.  If  we  would 
estimate  the  utmost  exertions  of  human  de- 
pravity, and  the  strongest  effects  it  is  capa- 
ble of  producing-,  we  must  select  our  instar- 
ces  from  the  conduct  of  those  to  whom  the 
gospel  is  known.  The  Indians,  who  roast 
their  enemies  alive,  give  sufficient  proof  that 
man  is  barbarous  to  his  own  kind;  which 
may  likewise  be  easily  demonstrated  with- 
out go'\ng  so  far  from  home ;  but  the  preach- 
ing of  the  gospel  discovers  the  enmity  of  the 
heart  against  God,  in  ways  and  degrees,  of 
which  the  unenlightened  savages  and  hea- 
thens are  not  capable. 

By  the  gospel,  I  now  mean,  not  merely 
the  doctrine  of  salvation,  as  it  lies  in  the  holy 
scriptures,  but  that  public  and  authoritative 
dispensation  of  this  doctrine  which  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  has  committed  to  his  true  minis- 
ters, who,  having  been  themselves,  by  the 
power  of  his  grace,  brought  out  of  darkness 
into  marvellous  light,  are,  by  his  Holy  Spirit, 
qualified  and  sent  forth  to  declare  to  their 
fellow-sinners  what  they  have  seen,  and  felt, 
and  tasted,  of  the  word  of  life.  Their  com- 
mission is,  to  exalt  the  Lord  alone,  to  stain 
the  pride  of  all  human  glory.  They  are  to 
set  forth  the  evil  and  demerit  of  sin,  the 
strictness,  spirituality,  and  sanction  of  the 
law  of  God,  the  total  apostacy  of  mankind; 
and  from  these  premises  to  demonstrate  the 
utter  impossibility  of  a  sinner's  escaping  con- 
demnation by  any  works  or  endeavours  of 
his  own ;  and  then  to  proclaim  a  full  and  free 
salvation  from  sin  and  wrath,  by  faith  in  the 
name,  blood,  obedience,  and  mediation  of 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh;  together  with  a 
denunciation  of  eternal  misery  to  all  who 
shall  finally  reject  the  testimony  which  God 
has  given  of  his  Son.  Though  these  several 
branches  of  the  will  of  God  respecting  sin- 
ners, and  other  truths  in  connexion  with 
them,  are  plainly  revealed,  and  repeatedly 
inculcated  in  the  Bible,  and  though  the  Bible 
is  to  be  found  in  almost  every  house,  yet  we 
see,  in  fact,  it  is  as  a  sealed  book,  little  read, 
little  understood,  and,  therefore,  but  little 
regarded,  except  in  those  places  which  the 
Lord  is  pleased  to  favour  with  ministers  who 
can  confirm  them  from  their  own  experience ; 
and  who,  by  a  sense  of  his  constraining  love, 
and  the  worth  of  souls,  are  animated  to  make 
the  faithful  discharge  of  their  ministry  the 
one  great  business  of  their  lives;  who  aim 
not  to  possess  the  wealth,  but  to  promote  the 
welfare,  of  their  hearers,  are  equally  regard- 
less of  the  frowns  or  smiles  of  the  world,  and 
count  not  their  lives  dear,  so  that  they  may 
be  wise  and  successful  in  winning  souls  to 
Christ. 

When  the  gospel,  in  this  sense  of  the 
word,  first  comes  to  a  place,  though  the  peo- 


ple are  going  on  in  sin,  they  may  be  said  tc 
sin  ignorantly ;  they  have  not  yet  been 
warned  of  their  danger.  Some  are  drinking 
down  iniquity  like  water ;  others  more  soberly 
burying  themselves  alive  in  the  cares  and 
business  of  the  world;  others  find  a  little 
time  for  what  they  call  religious  duties, 
which  they  persevere  in,  though  they  are 
utter  strangers  to  the  nature  or  the  pleasure 
of  spiritual  worship;  partly,  as  thereby  they 
think  to  bargain  with  God,  and  to  make 
amends  for  such  sins  as  they  do  not  choose 
to  relinquish;  and  partly  because  it  gratifies 
their  pride  and  afibrds  them  (as  they  think) 
some  ground  for  saying,  "  God,  I  thank  thee, 
I  am  not  as  other  men."  The  preached  gos- 
pel declares  the  vanity  and  danger  of  these 
several  ways  which  sinners  choose  to  walk 
in.  It  declares  and  demonstrates,  that,  dif- 
ferent as  they  appear  from  each  other,  they 
are  equally  remote  from  the  path  of  safety 
and  peace,  and  all  tend  to  the  same  point, 
the  destruction  of  those  who  persist  in  them. 
At  the  same  time,  it  provides  against  that 
despair  into  which  men  would  be  otherwise 
plunged,  when  convinced  of  their  sins,  by 
revealing  the  immense  love  of  God,  the  glory 
and  grace  of  Christ,  and  inviting  all  to  come 
to  him,  that  they  may  obtain  pardon,  life, 
and  happiness.  In  a  word,  it  shows  the  pit 
of  hell  under  men's  feet,  and  opens  the  gate, 
and  points  out  the  way  to  heaven.  Let  us 
now  briefly  observe  the  effects  it  produces 
in  those  who  do  not  receive  it  as  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation.  These  effects  are 
various,  as  tempers  and  circumstances  vary ; 
but  they  may  all  lead  us  to  adopt  the  psalm- 
ist's exclamation,  "  Lord,  what  is  man  !" 

Many  who  have  heard  the  gospel  once  or 
a  few  times,  will  hear  it  no  more;  it  awakens 
their  scorn,  their  hatred,  and  rage.  They  pour 
contempt  upon  the  wisdom  of  God,  despise 
his  goodness,  defy  his  power;  and  their  very 
looks  express  the  spirit  of  the  rebellious  Jews, 
who  told  the  prophet  Jeremiah  to  his  face, 
"  As  to  the  word  which  thou  hast  spoken  to  us 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  we  will  not  hearken 
to  thee  at  all."  The  ministers  who  preach 
it  are  accounted  men  that  turn  the  world  up- 
side down ;  and  the  people  who  receive  it, 
fools  or  hypocrites.  The  word  of  the  Lord 
is  a  burden  to  them,  and  they  hate  it  with  a 
perfect  hatred.  How  strongly  is  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  natural  heart  manifested,  by  the 
confusion  which  often  takes  place  in  families, 
where  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  awaken  one  or 
two  in  a  house,  while  tlie  rest  remain  in  their 
sins !  To  profess,  or  even  to  be  suspected  of 
an  attachment  to  the  gospel  of  Christ,  is  fre- 
quently considered  and  treated  as  the  worst 
of  crimes,  sufficient  to  cancel  the  strongest 
obligations  of  relation  or  friendship.  Parents 
upon  such  a  provocation,  will  hate  thf  ir  chil- 
dren, and  children  ridicule  their  parents. 
Many  find,  agreeably  to  our  Lord  s  declare 


LIT.  XXXI V.J 


(2.)  ON  MAN  IN  HIS  FALLEN  ESTATE. 


187 


tion,  that  from  tlic  time  a  wnse  of  his  love 
enjra<;iHl  their  hourts  to  K>vt»  hiiu  ajfiiin,  their 
worst  toes  have  been  those  of  their  own 
hous(«hoKl ;  and  that  tliey  who  expressed  the 
{^reulest  love  uiitl  tenderness  lor  iheni  before 
their  conversion,  can  now  hardly  boar  to  see 
thetn. 

The  bnlk  of  a  people  will  perhaps  continue 
to  hear,  at  least  now  and  then  ;  and  to  those 
who  do,  the  Spirit  of  Cienl  usually,  at  one  time 
or  other,  bears  testimony  to  the  truth.  Their 
consciences  are  struck,  and  for  a  season  they 
believe  and  tremble.  But  what  is  the  con- 
sequence ?  No  man  who  has  taken  poison 
seeks  more  earnestly  or  speedily  for  an  an- 
tidote, than  lliose  do  for  somethinuf  to  stifle 
and  smother  their  convictions.  They  run  to 
company,  to  drink,  to  any  tliin^-,  for  relief 
atjainst  the  unwelcome  hitrusion  of  serious 
thouo^hts;  and  when  they  succeed,  and  reco- 
ver their  former  inditfcrence,  they  rejoice,  as 
if  they  had  escaped  some  great  danger.  The 
next  step  is,  to  ridicule  their  own  convic- 
tions ;  and  ne.\t  to  that,  if  they  see  any  of  their 
acquaintance  under  the  like  impressions,  to 
use  every  art,  and  strain  every  nerve,  that 
they  may  render  them  as  obstinate  as  them- 
selves. For  this  purpose,  they  watch  as  a 
fowler  for  the  bird,  flatter  or  revile,  tempt  or 
threaten;  and  if  they  can  prevail,  and  are  the 
occasion  of  hardening  any  in  their  sins,  they 
rejoice  and  triumph,  as  if  they  accounted  it 
their  interest  and  their  glory  to  ruin  the  souls 
of  their  fellow-creatures. 

By  frequent  hearing,  they  receive  more 
light.  They  are  compelled  to  know,  whether 
they  will  or  not,  that  the  wrath  of  God  hangs 
over  the  cliildren  of  disobedience.  They  carry 
a  sting  in  their  consciences,  and  at  times  feel 
themselves  most  miserable,  and  cannot  but 
wish  they  had  never  been  born,  or  that  they 
had  been  dogs  or  toads,  rather  than  rational 
creatures.  Yet  they  harden  themselves  still 
more.  They  affect  to  be  happy  and  at  ease, 
and  force  themselves  to  wear  a  smile,  when 
anguish  preys  upon  their  hearts.  They 
blaspheme  the  way  of  truth,  watch  for  the 
faults  of  professors,  and,  with  a  malicious 
joy,  publish  and  aggravate  them.  They  see, 
perhaps,  how  the  wicked  die,'  but  are  not 
alarmed ;  they  see  the  righteous  die,  but  are 
not  moved.  Neither  providences  nor  ordi- 
nances, mercies  nor  judgments,  can  stop 
them;  for  they  are  determined  to  go  on, 
and  perish  with  their  eyes  open,  rather  than 
submit  to  the  gospel. 

But  they  do  not  always  openly  reject  the 
gospel-truths.  Some  who  profess  to  approve 
and  receive  them,  do  thereby  discover  the 
evils  of  the  heart  of  man  if  possible  in  a  yet 
stronger  light.  They  make  Christ  the  minis- 
ter of  sin,  and  turn  his  grace  into  licentious- 
ness. Like  Judas,  they  say.  Hail  Master ! 
and  betray  him.  This  is  the  highest  pitch 
of  iniquity.     They  pervert  all  the  doctrines 


of  tlio  gosp«d.  Fn)m  election  they  draw  an 
excuse  for  conlinuujg  in  their  evil  ways; 
and  cotjtend  for  sjilvation  without  works,  Ikn 
rause  they  love  not  obedience.  Tln*y  extol 
the  righteousne.ss  of  CJirist,  but  hold  it  in  op- 
jK)sition  to  persorjal  holiness.  In  a  word,  lie- 
cause  they  hear  that  (io<l  is  g«KKl,  they  de- 
termine to  persist  in  evil.  "  lx)rd  what  id 
man  !" 

Thus  wilful  and  impenitent  sinners  go  on 
from  bad  to  worse,  deceiving  and  being  de- 
ceived. The  word  which  they  despise,  be- 
comes to  them  a  savour  of  death  unto  death. 
They  take  different  courses,  but  all  are  tra- 
velling down  to  the  pit;  and,  unless  sove- 
reign mercy  interpose,  will  soon  sink  to  rise 
no  more.  The  final  event  is  usually  twofold. 
Many,  after  they  have  been  more  or  less 
shaken  by  tiie  word,  settle  in  formality.  If 
hearing  would  supply  the  place  of  faith,  love 
and  obedience,  they  would  do  well ;  but  by 
degrees  they  become  sermon-pnx)f  The 
truths  which  once  struck  them,  lose  their 
power  by  being  often  heard  ;  and  thus  mul- 
titudes live  and  die  in  darkness,  though  the 
light  has  long  shone  around  them.  Others 
are  more  openly  given  up  to  a  reprobate  mind. 
Contempt  of  the  gospel  makes  infidels,  deists, 
and  atheists.  They  are  filled  with  a  spirit 
of  delusion  to  believe  a  lie.  These  are  scof- 
fers, walking  after  their  own  lusts;  for 
where  the  principles  of  religion  are  given 
up,  the  conduct  will  be  vile  and  abominable. 
Such  persons  sport  themselves  with  their 
own  deceivings,  and  strongly  prove  the  truth 
of  the  gospel,  while  they  dispute  against  it. 
We  often  find  that  people  of  this  cast  have 
formerly  been  the  subjects  of  convictions; 
but  when  the  evil  spirit  has  seemed  to  de- 
part for  a  season,  and  returns  again,  the  last 
state  of  that  person  is  worse  than  the  first. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  some  of  my  read- 
ers may  meet  with  their  own  characters  un- 
der one  or  other  of  the  views  I  have  given 
of  the  desperate  wickedness  of  the  heart,  in 
its  actings  against  the  truth.  May  the  Spirit 
of  God  constrain  them  to  read  with  attention. 
Your  case  is  dangerous,  but  I  would  hope  not 
utterly  desperate.  Jesus  is  mighty  to  save. 
His  grace  can  pardon  the  most  aggravated 
offences,  and  subdue  the  most  inveterate 
habits  of  sin.  The  gospel  you  have  hitherto 
slighted,  resisted,  or  opposed,  is  still  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation.  The  blood  of 
Jesus,  upon  which  you  have  hitherto  tram- 
pled, speaks  better  things  than  the  blood  of 
Abel,  and  is  of  virtue  to  cleanse  those  whose 
sins  are  scarlet  and  crimson,  and  to  make 
them  white  as  snow.  As  yet  you  are  spared ; 
but  it  is  high  time  to  stop,  to  throw  down 
your  arms  of  rebellion,  and  humble  your- 
selves at  his  feet.  If  you  do,  you  may  yet 
escape;  but  if  not,  know  assuredly  tha 
wrath  is  coming  upon  you  to  the  utterniost: 
and  you  will  shortly  find,  to  your  unspeak- 


188 


ON  SOME  BLEMISHES. 


able  dismay,  that  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall 
into  the  iiands  of  the  livinir  God. — 1  am,  diic. 


LETTER  XXXV. 

WItatsoevcr  thimrs  are  lovely,  whatsoever 
thuti>s  are  of  pood  report, — think  on 
these  things.     PJiil.  iv.  8. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  precept  wliich  I  have 
chosen  for  my  motto  is  applicable  to  many 
particulars,  which  are  but  seldom  and  occa- 
sionally mentioned  from  the  pulpit.  There 
are  improprieties  of  conduct,  which,  though 
usually  considered  as  foibles  that  hardly  de- 
serve a  censure,  are  properly  sinful ;  for 
thoug-h  some  of  tiiom  may  not  seem  to  violate 
any  express  command  of  scripture,  yet  they 
are  contrary  to  that  accuracy  and  circum- 
spection which  become  our  profession.  A 
christian,  by  the  tenor  of  his  high  calling,  is 
bound  to  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  evil ; 
and  his  deportment  should  not  only  be  up- 
right as  to  his  leading  principles,  but  amiable 
and  engaging,  and  as  i'ree  as  possible  from 
every  inconsistence  and  blemish.  The  cha- 
racters of  some  valuable  persons  are  clouded ; 
and  the  influence  they  might  otherwise  have, 
greatly  counteracted  by  comparatively  small 
faults ;  yet  faults  they  certainly  are ;  and  it 
would  be  well  if  they  could  be-  made  so  sen- 
sible of  them,  and  of  their  ill  effects,  as  that 
they  might  earnestly  watch  and  strive,  and 
pray  against  them.  I  know  not  how  to  ex- 
plain myself  better  than  by  attempting  the 
outlines  of  a  few  portraits,  to  each  of  which 
I  apprehend  some  strong  resemblances  may 
be  found  in  real  life.  I  do  not  wish  to  set 
my  readers  to  work  to  find  out  such  resem- 
blances among  their  neighbours;  but  would 
advise  them  to  examine  carefully,  whether 
they  cannot,  in  one  or  other  of  them,  dis- 
cover some  traces  of  their  own  features. 
And  though  I  speak  of  men  only,  counter- 
parts to  the  several  characters,  may,  doubt- 
less, be  found  here  and  there  among  the  wo- 
men :  for  the  imperfections  and  evils  of  a 
fallen  nature,  are  equally  entailed  upon  both 
sexes. 

AusTERUS  is  a  solid  and  exemplary  chris- 
tian. He  has  a  deep,  extensive,  and  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  divine  things.  Inflexi- 
bly and  invariably  true  to  his  principles,  he 
stems  with  a  noble  singularity  the  torrent  of 
the  world,  and  can  neither  be  bribed  nor  in- 
timidated from  the  path  of  duty.  He  is  a 
rough  diamond  of  great  intrinsic  value,  and 
would  sparkle,  with  a  distinguished  lustre, 
if  he  were  more  polished.  But  though  the 
word  of  God  is  his  daily  study,  and  he  prizes 
the  precepts,  as  well  as  the  promises,  more 
than  thousands  of  gold  and  silver,  there  is  one 
precept  he  seems  to  have  overlooked :  I  mean 


[let.  XXXV. 

that  of  the  apostle,  be  courteous.  Instead  d 
that  gentleness  and  condescension  which 
will  always  be  expected  from  a  professed  fol- 
lower of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus;  there  is 
a  harshness  in  his  manner,  which  makes 
him  more  admired  that  beloved;  and  they 
who  truly  love  him,  often  feel  more  con- 
straint than  pleasure  when  in  his  company. 
His  intimate  friends  are  satisfied  that  he  is 
no  stranger  to  true  humility  of  heart:  but 
these  are  few.  By  others  he  is  thought 
proud,  dogmatic,  and  self-important;  nor  can 
I  this  prejudice  against  him  be  easily  removed, 
until  he  can  lay  aside  that  cynical  air  which 
he  has  unhappily  contracted. 

HuMANUs  is  generous  and  benevolent. 
His  feelings  are  lively,  and  his  expressions 
of  them  strong.  No  one  is  more  distant  from 
sordid  views,  or  less  influenced  by  a  selfish 
spirit.  His  heart  bums  with  love  to  Jesus, 
and  he  is  ready  to  receive,  with  open  arms, 
all  who  love  his  Saviour.  Yet,  with  an  up- 
right and  friendly  spirit,  which  entitles  him 
to  the  love  and  esteem  of  all  who  know 
him,  he  has  not  every  thing  we  would  wish 
in  a  friend.  In  some  respects,  though  not  in 
the  most  criminal  sense,  he  bridleth  not  his 
tongue.  Should  you,  without  witness  or 
writing,  intrust  him  with  untold  gold,  you 
would  run  no  risk  of  loss;  but  if  you  intrust 
him  with  a  secret,  you  thereby  put  it  in  the 
possession  of  the  public.  Not  that  he  would 
wilfully  betray  you,  but  it  is  his  infirmity. 
He  knows  not  how  to  keep  a  secret ;  it  es- 
capes from  him  before  he  is  aware.  So,  like- 
wise, as  to  matters  of  fact :  in  things  which 
are  of  great  importance,  and  where  he  is 
sufficiently  informed,  no  man  has  a  stricter 
regard  to  truth ;  but  in  the  smaller  concerns 
of  common  life,  whether  it  be  from  credulity, 
or  from  a  strange  and  blameable  inadvertency, 
he  frequently  grieves  and  surprises  those  who 
know  his  real  character,  by  saying  the  thing 
that  is  not.  Thus  they  to  whom  he  opens 
his  very  heart,  dare  not  make  him  returns  of 
equal  confidence  ;  and  they  who,  in  some 
cases,  w^ould  venture  their  lives  upon  his 
word,  in  others  are  afraid  of  telling  a  story 
after  him.  How  lamentable  are  such  blem- 
ishes in  such  a  person. 

Prudens,  though  not  of  a  generous  natural 
temper,  is  a  partaker  of  that  grace  which 
opens  the  heart,  and  inspires  a  disposition  to 
love  and  to  good  works.  He  bestows  not 
his  alms  to  be  seen  of  men :  but  they  who 
have  the  best  opportunities  of  knowing  what 
he  does  for  the  relief  of  others,  and  of  com- 
paring it  with  his  ability,  can  acquit  him  in 
good  measure  of  the  charge  which  another 
part  of  his  conduct  exposes  him  to.  For 
Prudens  is  a  great  economist;  and  though 
he  would  not  willingly  wrong  or  injure  any 
person,  yet  the  meanness  to  which  he  will 
submit,  either  to  save  or  gain  a  penny,  in 
what  he  accounts  an  honest  way,  are  a  great 


LET.  XXXV.] 


IN  CHRISTIAN  CIIARACTKIia 


180 


jiscrodit  to  his  profession.  II«»  is  punctual 
in  fultillin<;  his  on;iriiLjtMiuMits ;  but  cxoimhI- 
in^^ly  h:irtl,  strict,  nnd  suspii-ious  in  milking 
his  Inirjjiiins.  And  in  liis  dross,  and  every 
article  of  his  personal  concerns,  ho  is  con- 
tent to  be  so  much  below  the  station  in 
which  the  providence  ofCJod  has  placed  him, 
that  to  tiiose  who  are  not  accjuainted  with 
his  private  benet'.ictions  to  the  jKM)r,  he  a[v 
pears  under  the  hateful  character  of  a  miser, 
and  to  bo  ^^overned  by  that  love  of  money 
which  tlie  scriptures  declare  to  be  the  root 
of  all  evil,  and  inconsistent  with  the  true 
lovo  of  (lO.l  and  of  the  saints. 

VoLvriLis  is  sutliciently  exact  in  pcrform- 
infif  his  promises  in  such  instances  as  he 
thinks  of  real  importance.  If  he  bids  a  per- 
Fon  depend  upon  his  assistance  he  will  not 
disappoint  his  expectations.  Perhaps  he  is 
equally  sincere  in  all  his  promises  at  the  time 
of  making"  them  ;  but  for  want  of  method  in 
the  management  of  his  atlliirs,  he  is  always 
in  a  hurry,  always  too  late,  and  has  al- 
ways some  engagement  upon  his  hands 
with  which  it  is  impossible  ho  can  comply. 
Yet  he  goes  on  in  this  way,  exposing  himself 
and  others  to  continual  disappointments.  He 
accepts,  without  a  thought,  proposals  which 
are  incompatible  with  each  otiier,  and  will 
perhaps  undertake  to-be  at  two  or  three  dif- 
ferent and  distant  places  at  the  same  hour. 
This  has  been  so  long  his  practice  that  no- 
body now  expects  him  till  they  see  him.  In 
other  respects  he  is  a  good  sort  of  man  ;  but 
this  want  of  punctuality,  which  runs  through 
his  whole  deportment,  puts  every  thing  out 
of  course  in  which  he  is  concerned,  abroad 
and  at  home.  Volatilis  excuses  himself  as 
well  as  he  can,  and  chiefly  by  alleging,  that 
the  things  in  which  he  fails  are  of  no  great 
consequence.  But  he  would  do  well  to  re- 
member, that  truth  is  a  sacred  thing,  and 
ought  not  to  be  violated  in  the  smallest  mat- 
ters, without  an  unforeseen  and  unavoidable 
prevention.  Such  a  trifling  turn  of  spirit 
lessens  the  weight  of  a  person's  character, 
though  he  makes  no  pretensions  to  religion, 
and  is  still  a  greater  blemish  in  a  professor. 

Cessator  is  not  chargeable  with  being 
buried  in  the  cares  and  business  of  the  pre- 
sent life,  to  the  neglect  of  the  one  thing  need- 
ful; but  he  greatly  neglects  the  duties  of  his 
station.  Had  he  been  sent  into  the  world 
only  to  read,  pray,  hear  sermons,  and  join  in 
religious  conversation,  he  might  pass  for  an 
eminent  Christian.  But  though  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  that  his  aboimdiag  in  these  exercises 
€pring3  from  a  heart-attachment  to  divine 
things,  his  conduct  evidences  that  his  judg- 
ment is  weak,  and  his  views  of  his  christian 
calling  are  very  narrow  and  defective.  He 
doss  not  consider  that  waiting  upon  God  in 
the  public  and  private  ordinances,  is  designed, 
not  to  excuse  us  from  a  discharge  of  the  du- 
ties of  civil  life,  but  to  instruct,  strengthen, 


and  qualify  us  for  their  performnnco.  Ills 
atiiiirs  are  in  di.s<jrdor,  ond  hi.s  furnily  con- 
nexions are  lik«dy  to  sutfor  by  liiK  indolenco. 
I Ic  thanks  (Jod  that  he  is  not  worldly-minded  ; 
but  ho  is  an  idle  and  unfailiiful  meinlM'r  of 
society,  and  causes  the  way  of  truth  to  be 
evil  si)oken  of.  Of  such  the  aj)ostle  has  de- 
termined, that  "  if  any  man  will  not  work, 
neither  should  he  eat." 

Cl'riouh  is  upright  and  unblamable  in  hi:J 
general  de|)ortment,  and  no  .strani^'or  to  the 
experiences  of  a  true  christian.  His  conver- 
sation upon  these  subjects  isoilen  satisfactory 
and  edifying.  He  would  be  a  much  more 
agreeable  companion,  were  it  not  for  an  im- 
pertinent desire  of  knowing  every  bcxly's 
business,  and  the  grounds  of  every  hint  that 
is  occasionally  dropped  in  discourse  where 
he  is  present.  This  puts  him  Ujwn  asking  a 
multiplicity  of  needless  and  imi)roper  ques- 
tions, and  obliges  those  who  know  him,  to 
be  continually  upon  their  guard,  and  to  treat 
him  with  reserve.  He  catechises  even 
strangers,  and  is  unwilling  to  part  with  them 
till  he  is  punctually  informed  of  all  their 
connexions,  employments,  and  designs.  For 
this  idle  curiosity  he  is  marked  and  avoided 
as  a  busybody ;  and  they  who  have  the  best 
opinion  of  him  cannot  but  wonder,  that  a 
man  who  appears  to  have  so  many  better 
things  to  employ  his  thoughts,  should  find 
leisure  to  amuse  himself  with  what  does  not 
at  all  concern  liim.  Were  it  not  for  the 
rules  of  civility  he  would  be  affronted  every 
day :  and  if  he  would  attend  to  the  cold  and 
evasive  answers  he  receives  to  his  inquiries, 
or  even  to  the  looks  with  which  they  are  ac- 
companied, he  might  learn,  that,  though  he 
means  no  harm,  he  appears  to  a  great  disad- 
vantage, and  that  this  prying  disposition  is 
very  unpleasing-. 

QuERULus  wastes  much  of  his  precious 
time  in  declaiming  against  the  management 
of  public  affairs ;  though  he  has  neither  ac- 
cess to  the  springs  which  move  the  wheels 
of  government,  nor  influence  either  to  ac- 
celerate or  retard  their  motions.  Our  na- 
tional concerns  are  no  more  affected  by  the 
remonstrances  of  Querulus,  than  the  hea- 
venly bodies  are  by  the  disputes  of  astrono- 
mers. While  the  newspapers  are  the  chief 
sources  of  his  intelligence,  and  his  situation 
precludes  him  from  being  a  competent  judge, 
either  of  matters  of  fact,  or  matters  of  right, 
why  should  Querulus  trouble  himself  with 
politics !  This  would  be  a  weakness,  if  we 
consider  him  only  as  a  member  of  society; 
but  if  we  consider  him  as  a  christian,  it  is 
worse  than  weakness  ;  ife  is  a  sinful  confor- 
mity to  the  men  of  the  world,  who  look  no 
farther  than  to  second  causes,  and  forget  that 
the  Lord  rei^-ns.  If  a  christian  be  placed  in 
a  public  sphere  of  action,  he  should  undoubt- 
edly be  faithful  to  his  calling,  and  endeavour, 
by  all  lawful  methods,  to  transmit  our  privi- 


100 


TO  A  GAY  FRIEND,  «kc. 


[let.  xxxvl 


.eges  to  posterity  ;  but  it  would  be  better  for 
Querulus  to  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead. 
There  are  peoj)le  enough  to  make  a  noise 
about  political  matters,  who  know  not  how 
to  employ  their  time  to  better  purpose.  Our 
Lord's  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world ;  and 
most  of  liis  people  may  do  their  country  much 
more  esscnti^il  service  by  pleading  lor  it  in 
prayer,  tiian  by  finding  fault  with  things 
which  they  have  no  power  to  alter.  If  Que- 
rulus had  opportunity  of  spending  a  few 
months  under  some  of  the  governments  upon 
the  continent,  I  may  indeed  say,  under  any 
of  them,  he  would  probably  bring  home  with 
him  a  more  grateful  sense  of  the  Lord's  good- 
ness to  him,  in  appointing  his  lot  in  Britain. 
As  it  is,  his  zeal  is  not  only  unprofitable  to 
others,  but  hurtful  to  himself  It  imbitters 
his  spirit,  it  diverts  his  thoughts  from  things 
of  greater  importance,  and  prevents  him  from 
feeling  the  value  of  those  blessings,  civil  and 
religious,  which  lie  actiially  possesses ;  and 
could  he,  as  he  wishes,  prevail  on  many  to 
act  in  the  same  spirit,  the  governing  powers 
might  be  irritated  to  take  every  opportunity 
of  abridging  that  religious  liberty  which  we 
are  favoured  with,  above  all  the  nations  upon 
earth.  Let  me  remind  Querulus,  that  the 
hour  is  approaching,  when  many  things, 
which  at  present  too  much  engross  his 
thoughts  and  inflame  his  passions,  will  appear 
as  foreign  to  him,  as  what  is  now  transact- 
ing among  the  Tartars  or  Chinese. 

Other  improprieties  of  conduct,  which  les- 
sen the  influence  and  spot  the  profession  of- 
Bome  who  wish  well  to  the  cause  of  Christ, 
might  be  enumerated,  but  these  may  suflice 
for  a  specimen. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  XXXVI. 

To  a  Gay  Friend,  on  his  Recovery  from 
Illness. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  suppose  you  will  receive 
many  congratulations  on  your  recovery  from 
your  late  dangerous  illness ;  most  of  them, 
perhaps,  more  sprightly  and  better  turned, 
but  none,  I  persuade  myself,  more  sincere 
and  affectionate  than  mine.  I  beg  3'ou  Avould 
prepare  yourself  by  this  good  opinion  of  me, 
before  you  read  further;  and  let  the  reality 
of  my  regard  excuse  what  you  may  dislike 
in  my  manner  of  expressing  it. 

When  a  person  is  returned  from  a  doubt- 
ful, distant  voyao^e^  we  are  naturally  led  to 
inquire  into  the  incidents  he  has  met  with, 
and  the  discoveries  he  lias  made.  Indulge 
me  in  a  curiosity  of  this  kind,  especially  as 
my  affection  gives  me  an  interest  and  con- 
cern in  the  event.  You  have  been,  my 
friend,  upon  the  brink,  the  very  edge  of  an 
eternal  state ;  but  God  has  restored  you  back 


to  the  world  again.  Did  you  meet  with,  01 
have  you  brought  back,  nothing  new  1  Did 
nothing  occur  to  stop  or  turn  your  usual 
train  of  thought?  Were  your  apprehensions 
of  invisible  things  exactly  the  same  in  the 
height  of  your  disorder,  when  you  were  cut 
off'  from  the  world  and  all  its  engagements, 
as  when  you  were  in  perfect  health,  and  in 
the  highest  enjoyment  of  your  own  inclina- 
tions'! If  you  answer  me,  "Yes,  all  things 
are  just  the  same  as  formerly,  the  ditference 
between  sickness  and  health  only  excepted  ;'* 
I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  reply.  I  can  only  sigh 
and  wonder:  sigh,  that  it  should  be  thus 
with  any,  that  it  should  be  thus  with  you, 
whom  I  dearly  love ;  and  wonder,  since  this 
unhappy  case,  strange  as  it  seems  in  one 
view,  is  yet  so  frequent,  why  it  was  not  al- 
ways thus  with  myself;  for  long  and  often 
it  was  just  so.  Many  a  time,  when  sickness 
had  brought  me,  as  we  say,  to  death's  door,  I 
was  as  easy  and  insensible  as  the  sailor,  who, 
in  the  height  of  a  storm,  should  presume  to 
sleep  upon  the  top  of  the  mast,  quite  re- 
gardless that  the  next  tossing  wave  might 
plunge  him  into  the  raging  ocean,  beyond 
all  possibility  of  relief  But  at  length  a  day 
came,  which,  though  the  most  terrible  day  I 
ever  saw,  I  can  now  look  back  upon  with 
thankfulness  and  pleasure ;  I  say,  the  time 
came,  when,  in  such  a  helpless  extremity, 
and  under  the  expectation  of  immediate 
death,  it  pleased  God  to  command  the  vail 
from  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  things  in  some 
measure  as  they  really  were.  Imagine 
with  yourself,  a  person  trembling  upon  the 
point  of  a  dreadful  precipice,  a  powerful  and 
inexorable  enemy  eager  to  push  him  down, 
and  an  assemblage  of  all  that  is  horrible  wait- 
ing at  the  bottom  for  his  fall ;  even  this  will 
give  you  but  a  faint  representation  of  the 
state  of  my  mind  at  that  time.  Believe  me, 
it  was  not  a  whim,  or  a  dream,  which  changed 
my  sentiments  and  conduct,  but  a  powerful 
conviction,  which  will  not  admit  the  least 
doubt ;  an  evidence  which,  like  that  I  have 
of  my  own  existence,  I  cannot  call  in  ques- 
tion, without  contradicting  all  my  senses. 
And  though  my  case  was  in  some  respects 
uncommon,  yet  something  like  it  is  known 
by  one  and  another  every  day ;  and  I  have 
myself  conversed  with  many,  who,  after  a 
course  of  years  spent  in  defending  deistical 
principles,  or  indulging  libertine  practices, 
when  they  have  thought  themselves  con- 
firmed in  their  schemes  by  the  cool  assent 
of  what  they  then  deemed  impartial  reason, 
iiave  been  like  me,  brought  to  glory  in  the 
cross  of  Christ,  and  to  live  by  that  faith  which 
they  had  before  slighted  and  opposed.  By 
these  instances,  I  know  that  nothing  is  too 
hard  for  the  Almighty.  The  same  power 
which  humbled  me,  can  undoubtedly  bring- 
down the  most  haughty  infidel  upon  earth. 
And  as  I  likewise  knew,  that,  to  show  his 


LET.  XXXVII.] 


ON  CHRISTIAN  EXPERIENCE. 


191 


power,  ho  is  oHimi  plrasod  to  niako  use  of 
weak  instriuiuMits,  I  am  t-ncouraf^'cd,  nutwith- 
staiuliii«jf  tlu'  apparent  dilliculty  of  succocd- 
ins,  to  warn  tlioso,  over  whom  tritMidship  «)r 
aift'ction  jnvos  mo  any  inthionco,  of  tlio  evil 
and  the  danjjer  of  a  course  of  lite  formed  u|>- 
on  the  prevailinjx  maxims  of  the  worhl.  So 
far  as  I  neglect  this,  I  am  unfaithful  in  my 
professions,  hoth  to  Gotl  and  man. 

I  shall  not  at  present  tronhleyou  in  an  ar- 
punentative  way.  If  by  dint  of  reason inj^ 
1  could  etVoct  some  chan<]^e  in  your  notions, 
my  ar«^umonts,  unless  applied  hy  a  superior 
jK)wer,  wi>uld  still  leave  your  heart  un- 
chaiifjed  and  untouched.  A  man  may  give 
his  assent  to  the  orospel,  and  be  able  to  de- 
fend it  ajrainst  others,  and  yet  not  have  iiis 
own  spirit  truly  influenced  by  it.  This 
thought  I  shall  leave  with  you,  that  if  your 
scheme  be  not  true  to  a  demonstration,  it 
must  necessarily  be  false ;  for  the  issue  is 
too  important  to  make  a  doubt  on  the  danger- 
ous side  tolerable.  If  the  christian  could 
possibly  be  mistaken,  he  is  still  upon  equal 
terms  with  those  who  pronounce  him  to  be 
go ;  but  if  the  deist  be  wrong  (tliat  is,  if  we 
are  in  the  right,)  the  conseo.uence  to  him 
must  be  unavoidable  and  intolerable.  This, 
you  will  say,  is  a  trite  argun^.ent :  I  own  it ; 
but,  beaten  as  it  is,  it  will  never  be  worn  out 
or  answered. 

Permit  me  to  remind  you  that  the  points  in 
debate  between  us  are  already  settled  in  them- 
selves, and  that  our  talking  cannot  alter  or 
affect  the  nature  of  things,  for  they  will  be  as 
they  are,  whatever,  apprehensions  we  may 
form  of  them ;  and  remember,  likewise,  that 
we  must  all,  each  one  for  himself,  experience 
on  which  side  the  truth  lies.  I  used  a  wrong 
word  when  I  spoke  of  your  recovery:  my  dear 
friend,  look  upon  it  only  as  a  reprieve,  for  you 
carry  the  sentence  of  death  about  with  you 
still,  and  unless  you  should  be  cutoff  (which 
God  in  his  mercy  forbid  !)  by  a  sudden  stroke, 
you  will  as  surely  lie  upon  a  deathbed  as  you 
have  been  now  raised  from  a  bed  of  sickness; 
and  remember  likewise  (how  can  I  bear  to 
write  it !)  that  should  you  neglect  my  admo- 
nitions, they  will,  notwithstanding,  have  an 
effect  upon  you,  though  not  such  an  effect  as  I 
could  wish :  they  will  render  you  more  inex- 
cusable. I  have  delivered  my  own  soul  by 
faithfully  warning :  but  if  you  will  not  ex- 
amine the  matter  with  that  seriousness  it 
calls  for;  if  you  will  not  look  up  to  God,  the 
former  of  your  body  and  the  preserver  of  your 
spirit,  for  direction  and  assistance  how  to 
please  him;  if  you  will  have  your  reading 
and  conversation  only  on  one  side  of  the 
question  ;  if  you  determine  to  let  afflictions 
and  dangers,  mercies  and  deliverances,  all 
pass  without  reflection  and  improvement ;  if 
you  will  spend  your  life  as  though  you 
thought  you  were  sent  into  the  world  only 
to  eat,  sleep,  and  play,  and,  after  a  course 


of  yearH,  be  extinguihhed  like  the  snuff  of  a 
candle; — why,  then,  you  nnist  nbnh;  tho 
(•onse(pienccM.  Hut  assuredly,  wK»n»r  or 
later,  (JikI  will  meet  you.  My  hearty  daily 
prayer  is,  that  it  may  he  in  a  way  of  nuTcy, 
an<l  that  you  may  be  added  to  tin;  mmd)<;r 
of  the  trophies  of  his  invincible  grace. — I 
am,  &ic. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 

Some  Points  of  Christian  Experience  Cou' 
sidered. 

TO  A  FRIEND. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  trust  the  difference  of  our 
sentiments  since  we  are  agreed  in  the  one 
thing  needful,  will  no  more  interrupt  our 
union  ana  fellowship  than  the  difference  of 
our  features  or  the  tone  of  our  voices.  I 
wish  you  to  believe  that  I  would  be  no  advo- 
cate for  carelessness  or  formality.  I  hope  my 
conscience  bears  me  witness  that,  besides 
trusting  in  the  letter  of  scripture,  I  likewise 
desire  an  increase  of  that  inward  and  com- 
fortable sense  of  divine  things,  in  which  I 
believe  you  are  happy  ;  and  that  I  wish  not 
only  to  be  a  subject  of  the  kingdom  of  Jesus, 
but  likewise  to  have  that  kingdom  power- 
fully set  up  in  my  heart,  which  consists  of 
righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Indeed  I  see  not  how  these  can  be 
distinguished,  or  what  ground  I  could  have 
to  think  myself  a  subject  of  his  kingdom,  un- 
less I  earnestly  desired  to  have  that  kingdom 
in  all  its  branches  and  blessings  flourishing 
in  my  soul.  I  do  not  know  that  I  live  in  the 
neglect  of  any  means  appointed  of  God  for 
my  growth  in  these  blessings,  or  willingly 
allow  myself  in  what  is  inconsistent  with 
them:  I  think  my  heart  is  habitually  in  the 
pursuit  of  them,  and  that  there  is  seldom  an 
hour  in  any  day  when  lively  communion 
with  my  God,  in  Christ,  is  not  present  to  my 
view  as  the  chief  good.  To  this  purpose, 
throuo-h  grace,  I  can  venture  to  express 
myself  to  man,  though  still  it  is  true,  when 
I  come  before  the  J^ord,  notwithstanding  the 
diligence  and  circumspection  I  would  aim 
at,  I  see  myself  a  poor  inconsistent  creature, 
that  my  strength  is  perfect  weakness,  and 
all  I  have  is  sin.  I  confess  I  am  afraid  of 
fixing  the  criterion  of  a  work  of  grace  too 
high,  lest  the  mourners  in  Zion  should  be 
discouraged ;  because  I  find  it  is  the  will  of 
God  that  such  should  not  be  discouraged,  but 
comforted,  and  because  it  appears  that  the 
scriptural  marks  have  respect  rather  to  de- 
sires, if  real,  than  to  attainments,  or  at  least 
to  those  attainments  which  are  often  possess- 
ed by  persons  who  are  kept  very  short  of  sen 
sible  comforts,  Matt.  v.  3 — 9,  Luke  xviii.  12, 
13,  1  Pet.  ii.  7. 


192 


ON  CHRISTIAN  EXPERIENCE. 


[let.  XXXVIL 


The  points  between  you  and  me  seem  chiefly 
the  following :  1.  When  miy  a  person  be  pro- 
perly denominated  a  believer  1  2.  What  are 
the  proper  evidences  and  necessary  concomi- 
tants of  a  lively,  thrivinfj  frame  of  spirit? 
3.  Whether  such  a  det^rree  of  faithfulness  to 
li^ht  received  as  is  consistent  with  the  rem- 
nant of  a  depraved  nature  in  our  present  state, 
will  certainly  and  always  preserve  our  souls 
from  declensions  and  winter-seasons  ?  4.  Whe- 
ther that  gracious  humility  which  arises  from 
a  due  sense  of  our  own  vileness  and  of  the 
riches  of  divine  grace  be  ordinarily  attainable 
without  some  mortifying  experience  of  the 
deceitfulness  and  desperate  wickedness  of  our 
own  hearts  ?  A  few  lines  upon  each  of  these 
particulars  will,  I  think,  take  in  the  chief 
parts  of  your  letter. 

1.  We  differ  something  with  respect  to  what 
constitutes  a  believer.  I  own  nothing  has  sur- 
prised me  more,  in  the  course  of  our  friendly 
debate,  than  your  supposing  that  a  person 
should  date  his  conversion  and  his  commen- 
cing a  believer  from  the  time  of  his  receiving 
the  gospel-truths  with  that  clearness  and  pow- 
er as  to  produce  in  him  an  abiding  assurance. 
The  apostle,  in  Eph.  i.  13,  makes  a  plain  dis- 
tinction between  believing  and  being  sealed 
with  the  Holy  Spirit  of  promise.  By  the  ex- 
perience and  observation  of  many  years,  I 
have  been  more  and  more  persuaded,  that  to 
represent  assurance  as  being  of  the  essence 
of  faith,  is  not  agreeable  to  scripture,  which, 
in  many  places,  either  expressly  asserts  or 
strongly  intimates  the  contrary,  John  i.  50, 
and  XX.  29,  Rom.  x.  9,  1  John  v.  1.  Who- 
ever is  not  a  believer  must  be  an  unbeliever; 
there  can  be  no  medium.  Either  there  are 
many  believers  who  have  not  assurance,  or 
else  there  are  many  unbelievers  who  love 
the  Lord  Jesus,  hate  sin,  are  poor  in  spirit, 
and  adorn  the  doctrine  of  the  gospel  by 
their  temper  and  conversation ;  and  I  doubt 
not  but  those  who  now  have  assurance,  had 
before  they  attained  it,  a  something  which 
wrought  by  love,  and  overcame  the  world. 
I  know  no  principle  capable  of  these  effects 
but  faith,  which  though  at  first  it  be  like  a 
grain  of  mustard-seed,  is  the  seed  of  God : 
though  it  be  faint,  it  is  genume,  as  the  dawn- 
ing of  liTfht  is  of  the  same  nature  with  that 
which  flows  from  the  noon-day  sun.  I  al- 
low that,  while  faith  is  weak,  there  may  be 
little  solid  comfort,  if  by  that  expression  abi- 
ding comtort  be  meant.  Faith  gives  safety 
and  spiritual  life ;  abiding  peace  and  esta- 
blishment follow  the  seaiinsf  of  the  Spirit. 
But  though  an  infant  has  not  the  strength, 
activity,  and  understanding,  which  he  will 
attain  when  he  arrives  to  the  age  of  man- 
hood, ho  is  as  fully  possessed  of  a  principle 
of  life  while  he  is  an  infant  as  at  any  time 
afterwards. 

2.  We  seem  to  differ  likewise  as  to  the 
marks  of  a  lively,  thriving  spirit ;  at  least  if 


any  are  supposed  to  be  better  or  surer  thai^ 
those  to  which  our  Lord  has  promised  blessed- 
ness, Matt.  V.  3 — 9.  lie  has  said,  "  Blessed 
are  tiiey  that  mourn ;"'  but  he  has  not  said, 
More  blessed  are  they  that  are  comforted. 
They  are,  to  be  sure,  more  happy  at  present; 
but  their  blessedness  consists  not  in  their  pre- 
sent comforts,  but  in  those  perceptions  of  gos- 
pel-truths which  form  them  to  that  contrite 
spirit  in  which  God  delighteth,  Isa.  Ivii.  18. 
and  which  make  them  capable  of  divine 
comforts,  and  spiritual  hungering  and  thirst- 
ing after  them.  Perhaps  we  do  not  argue 
ad  idem;  we  may  mean  different  things.  I 
would  not  represent  myself  as  a  stranger  to 
peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  the 
midst  of  all  my  conflicts  I  have  a  heartfelt 
satisfaction  from  the  gospel,  which  nothing 
else  could  give.  But  I  mean,  though  this  be 
with  me  as  an  abiding  principle,  it  rarely  af- 
fords me  what  I  think  you  intend  when  you 
speak  of  sensible  comforts.  I  cannot  feel 
that  warmth  of  heart,  that  glowing  of  love, 
which  the  knowledge  of  such  a  Saviour  should 
inspire.  I  account  it  my  sin,  and  I  feel  it 
my  burden  that  I  cannot  And  when  I  truly 
do  this,  when  I  abhor  myself  for  my  stupidi- 
ty, mourn  over  it,  and  humbly  look  up  to  the 
Lord  for  relief  against  it,  I  judge  my  soul  to 
be  at  such  times  as  much  al-ive  to  God  as  it 
would  be  if  he  saw  fit  to  increase  my  com- 
fort. Let  me  always  either  rejoice  in  him 
or  mourn  after  him :  I  would  leave  the  al- 
ternative to  him,  who  knows  best  how  to 
suit  his  dispensations  to  my  state  ;  and  I 
trust  he  knows  that  I  do  not  say  this  because 
I  set  a  small  value  upon  his  presence.  As  to 
the  experience  of  the  apostles,  I  believe  they 
were  patterns  to  all  succeeding  believers : 
but,  with  some  regard  to  the  several  trials 
and  services  to  which  we  may  be  called  in  this 
world,  he  distributes  severally  to  all  his  peo- 
ple according  to  his  own  will,  yet  with  a  wise 
and  gracious  accommodation  to  the  circum- 
stances and  situations  of  each.  The  apostle 
Paul  connects  the  abounding  of  his  consola- 
tions with  the  abounding  of  his  afflictions, 
and  with  the  state  of  the  people  to  whom  he 
preached,  2  Cor.  i.  4 — 7 ;  and  if,  instead  of 
preaching  the  gospel  from  Jerusalem  to  Illy- 
ricum  in  the  face  of  persecution,  he  had  lived 
in  a  land  of  liberty,  and  been  confined  to  a 
parochial  cure,  for  aught  I  know,  his  cup 
might  not  have  run  over  so  often.  Succeed- 
ing ministers  of  the  gospel,  when  called  to 
very  laborious  and  painful  services,  have,  for 
the  like  reasons,  been  often  favoured  with  a 
double  portion  of  that  joy  which  makes  hard 
tkings  easy  and  bitter  things  sweet ;  and,  in 
general,  all  the  Lord's  people  who  walk  hum- 
bly before  him,  may  expect  that  in,  or  after 
seasons  of  great  trial,  and  in  proportion  to 
their  pressures,  he  will  favour  them  with  pe- 
culiar comforts.  It  is  in  this  way,  he,  in  a 
great  measure,  fulfils  his  promise  of  making 


LET.  XXXV  XI.] 


tlioir  stronirth  equal  to  tluMr  day ;  and  I  oni 
enfthlod  to  trust  him  in  this  uiatler,  that  it' 
he  shouhl,  nt  any  tiino,  soi'  tU  to  rail  mv  to 
a  more  ditVu-uU  and  (hmjjerous  sphere  of  Hor- 
vice,  or  Kvul  nie  into  the  t'unmreof alHiilion, 
he  wouhl,  if  he  sjiw  it  needt'ul,  sup|K)rt  and 
refresh  nie  hy  such  nianif»'stations  of  his 
pU)ry  and  love,  as  1  know  but  little  of  at 
present.  In  a  word,  an  humble,  dependent 
frame  of  spirit,  perseverance  in  the  use  of 
appointed  nutans,  care  to  avt)id  all  occasions 
of  sin,  an  endeavour  to  plorify  (jtxl  in  our 
callinfjs,  and  an  eye  to  Jesus  as  our  all  in 
all; — these  thinirs  are  to  me  sure  indica- 
tions that  the  soul  is  rip^ht,  that  the  Lord 
is  present,  and  that  cjrace  is  thrivino^  and 
in  exercise,  whether  sensible  consolations 
abound  or  not. 

3.  1  propose  the  third  question,  conccrn- 
insT  such  a  degree  of  faitiifulness  to  li<?ht  re- 
ceived, as  is  consistent  with  the  remnants  of 
a  depraved  nature,  because  I  apprehend  one 
effect  of  indwelling  sin  is,  to  render  it  mo- 
rally impossible  tor  us  to  be  entirely  faithful 
to  that  light  and  power  which  God  has  given 
us.  It  may  sound  like  a  contradiction,  to 
say  we  cannot  do  what  we  can  do  ;  but  there 
are  many  enigmas  in  a  believer's  experience, 
at  least  in  mine  ;  and  I  never  expect  to  meet 
the  man  that  knows  his  own  heart,  that  will 
say  he  is  always  faithful,  diligent,  and  obedi- 
ent, to  the  full  extent  of  his  ability  ;  I  rather 
expect  he  would  confess  with  me,  that  he 
feels  a  need  of  more  ability,  and  fresh  sup- 
plies of  grace,  to  enable  him  to  make  a  better 
improvement  of  what  he  had  already  re- 
ceived. If  some,  as  you  suppose,  in  their 
dullest  frames  can  read  the  Bible,  go  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  mourn  (as  they  ought) 
over  what  is  amiss,  I  must  say  for  myself,  I 
caji,  and  I  cannot.  Without  doubt  I  can  take 
the  Bible  in  my  hand,  and  force  myself  to 
read  it ;  I  can  kneel  down,  and  I  can  see  I 
ought  to  mourn ;  but  to  understand  and  at- 
tend to  what  1  read,  to  engage  my  heart  in 
prayer,  or  to  be  duly  humbled  under  the 
sense  of  so  dark  and  dissipated  a  state  of 
mind ;  these  things,  at  some  seasons,  I  can 
no  more  do  than  raise  the  dead,  and  yet  I 
cannot  plead  positive  inability ;  I  am  satis- 
fied that  what  prevents  me  is  my  sin,  but  it 
is  the  sin  of  my  nature,  the  sin  that  dwelleth 
in  me :  and  I  expect  it  w^ill  be  thus  with  me 
at  times,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  till  this 
body  of  sin  shall  be  wholly  destroyed.  Yet 
I  believe  the  Lord  is  with  me,  even  when 
he  seems  to  be  absent,  otherwise  my  corrup- 
tions, at  such  seasons,  might  easily  prevail 
to  betray  me  into  open  or  allowed  sin, 
which,  blessed  be  the  grace  and  care  of  my 
good  Shepherd,  is  not  the  case.  I  know  not 
if  I  rightly  understand  the  expression,  "  We 
may  humbly  hope,  that  those  things  we  fall 
into,  which  are  not  in  our  power  to  prevent, 
will  not  be  set  to  our  account."  The  least 
2B 


ON  CHRISTIAN  EXPERIENCE. 


103 


of  the  evijjf  f  foci,  and  which  Hcom  mo«t  in- 
voluntary, if  Bet  to  my  account,  would  ruin 
me;  ami  I  trust,  that  even  my  wornt  <levia- 
lions  shall  not  appear  against  m«',  hcrau.so  I 
um  a  heli«>v(>r  in  Jesus;  and  1  know,  and  am 
sure,  that  I  do  not  wish  to  continue  in  bin 
that  grace  luay  alM)und.  My  conscience 
bears  me  witness,  that  I  would  not  desire 
the  rule  of  duty  to  he  narnjwed  or  a(;conmio- 
dated  to  my  imperfections  in  a  single  in- 
stance. If  the  expression  only  means,  that 
these  unavoidable  ellectsofour  evil  nature 
should  not  break  our  peace  of  conscience,  or 
discourage  us  in  our  apj)roaches  to  God,  I  am 
of  the  same  mind  ;  through  mercy  I  have 
seldom  any  more  doubt  of  my  acceptance  in 
the  Beloved,  when  in  a  dark  frame,  than 
when  I  am  most  favoured  with  liberty. 

4.  Whether  true  evangelical  humility,  and 
an  enlarged  view  of  the  grace  of  God  in 
Qirist,  triumpliing  over  all  obstacles,  be  or- 
dinarily attainable  without  an  experience  of 
declensions,  backslidings,  and  repeated  for- 
giveness, is  the  last  question  I  shall  consider. 
I  dare  say  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  be- 
lieve, that  I  would  not  advise  any  one  to  run 
into  sin  in  order  to  get  a  knowledge  of  his 
own  heart.  David  broke  his  bones  thereby ; 
he  obtained  an  aflecting  proof  of  his  inability 
of  standing  in  his  own  strength,  and  of  the 
skill  and  goodness  of  his  Physician  who 
healed  him ;  yet  no  man  in  his  wits  would 
break  his  bones  for  the  sake  of  making  ex- 
periments, if  he  were  ever  so  sure  they 
would  be  well  set  again.  You  tliink  that  a 
believer  is  never  more  humble  in  his  own 
eyes,  or  admires  Jesus  more  than  when  he 
is  filled  with  joy  and  peace.  I  readily  allows 
that  the  present  impressions  of  divine  love 
are  humbling :  however,  the  direct  tendency 
of  gracious  consolations  in  themselves  is  one 
thing  ;  what  evils  they  may  afterwards  occa- 
sion through  the  desperate  depravity  of  our 
hearts,  is  another.  We  have  a  memorable 
case  in  point  to  explain  my  meaning.  The 
apostle  Paul's  recollection  of  his  course  while 
in  a  natural  state,  and  the  singular  manner 
of  his  conversion,  w^ere  evidently  suited  to 
make  him  an  humble  christian,  and  he  was 
so.  By  an  especial  favour  of  the  Lord,  he 
was  afterwards  taken  up  into  the  third 
heaven  ;  what  he  saw  or  heard  there  he  has 
not  told  us,  but  surely  he  met  with  nothing 
that  could  have  a  tendency  to  make  him 
proud  ;  doubtless  he  saw  Jesus  in  his  glory, 
and  the  humble  spiritual  w^orship  of  heaven; 
a  sight  wiiich  we  might  deem  sufficient  to 
make  him  walk  in  self-abasement  all  the 
days  of  his  life  :  but  Paul,  though  an  eminent 
saint,  was  still  liable  to  the  effects  of  indwell- 
ing sin ;  he  was  in  danger  of  being  exalted 
through  the  abundance  of  revelations,  and 
the  Lord,  his  wise  and  gracious  keeper,  saw 
fit,  in  order  to  prevent  it,  that  a  messenger 
from  Satan  should  be  given  him  to  buffet 


194 


ON  RELIGION  AS  NECESSARY  TO 


[let.  xxxvin. 


him.  Pride  is  so  subtle,  that  it  can  g^ather 
Btreng-th,  even  from  those  gracious  manifes- 
tations whicli  seem  directly  calculated  to 
mortify  it;  so  danjjferous,  that  a  messenger 
from  Satan  Jiimsclf  may  be  esteemed  a 
mercy,  if  over-ruled  and  sanctified  by  the 
I^rd,  to  make  or  keep  us  more  humble : 
therefore,  thoujnrh  we  can  never  be  too  ear- 
nest in  striving  against  sin,  too  watchful  in 
abstaining  from  all  appearance  of  evil,  and 
though  they  who  wait  upon  the  Lord  may 
comfortably  hope,  that  he  will  preserve  them 
from  such  things  as  would  dishonour  their 
profession  in  the  sight  of  men,  yet  I  appre- 
hend they  who  appear  most  to  adorn  the  gos- 
pel in  their  outward  conversation,  are  consci- 
ous of  many  things  between  the  Lord  and 
their  own  souls,  which  covers  them  with 
shame,  and  that  his  tenderness  and  mercy  to 
them,  notwithstanding  their  pcrverseness, 
constrains  them  with  admiration  to  adopt  the 
language  of  Micah,  "Who  is  a  God  like 
unto  thee,  that  pardoneth  iniquity,  and  pass- 
eth  by  the  transgression  of  the  remnant  of 
his  heritage !"  and  I  believe  likewise,  that, 
without  such  striking  and  repeated  proofs  of 
what  is  in  their  hearts,  they  would  not  so 
feelingly  enter  into  the  spirit  of  Job's  con- 
fession, "  Behold,  I  am  vile  !"  nor  would  they 
have  such  a  lively  sense  of  their  obligations 
to  the  merciful  care  and  faithfulness  of  their 
great  Shepherd,  or  of  their  entire  and  abso- 
lute dependence  upon  him,  for  wisdom,  right- 
eousness, sanctification,  and  redemption.  I 
find  these  considerations  useful  and  necessary 
to  reconcile  me  to  my  lot.  The  Lord  knows 
what  I  need,  and  what  I  can  bear :  gladly 
would  I  receive,  earnestly  would  I  desire, 
more  of  comforts  while  here  ;  but  if  I  mourn 
now,  I  hope  to  be  comforted  in  heaven.  In 
the  mean  time  it  is  more  immediately  neces- 
sary for  me,  both  as  a  christian  and  a  minis- 
ter, that  I  should  be  humbled ;  the  Lord's 
will  be  done.  I  cannot  pretend  to  determine 
what  ministers,  or  what  body  of  people  come 
nearest  the  character  of  the  primitive  times, 
hut  in  my  judgment  they  are  the  happiest 
who  have  the  lowest  thoughts  of  themselves, 
and  in  whose  eyes  Jesus  is  most  glorious  and 
precious. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXVIIL 

That  True  RcUfrion  is  necessary,  in  order 
to  the  best  Enjoyment  of  the  Pleasures 
of  the  present  Life. 

TO  A  GAY  FRIEXD. 

DEAR  SIR, — Though  I  truly  love  you,  and 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  of  the  reality  of  your 
friendship  to  me  ;  yet  I  cannot  but  apprehend, 
that    notwitlistandinff  our  mutual  regard, 


and  my  frequent  attempts  to  be  witty,  if  I 
could,  for  your  diversion,  there  is  a  some- 
thing in  most  of  my  letters  (which  I  cannot,, 
dare  not,  wholly  suppress,)  that  disgusts  and 
wearies  you,  and  makes  you  less  inclined  to 
keep  up  a  frequent  intercourse  than  you 
would  otherwise  be.  Rather  than  lose  you 
quite,  I  will  in  general  spare  you  as  much 
as  I  can ;  but  at  present  you  must  bear  with 
me,  and  allow  me  full  scope.  You  have  given 
me  a  challenge,  which  I  know  not  how  to 
pass  over ;  and  since  you  so  far  justify  my 
preaching,  as  to  condescend  to  preach  (in 
your  way)  yourself,  permit  me,  for  this  time, 
to  preach  again,  and  to  take  some  passages 
in  your  letter  for  my  text. 

In  the  present  debate,  I  will  accept  your 
compliment,  and  suppose  myself  to  be,  as  you 
say,  a  man  of  sense.  You  allow,  then,  that 
all  the  sense  is  not  on  your  side.  This,  in- 
deed, you  cannot  deny ;  for  whatever  becomes 
of  me,  it  is  needless  to  tell  you,  that  Hale, 
Boyle,  and  other  great  names  I  could  men- 
tion, were  men  of  as  great  penetration  and 
judgment,  had  as  good  opportunities,  and 
took  as  much  pains  to  be  informed  of  the 
truth,  as  any  of  the  advocates  for  infidelity 
can  pretend  to.  And  you  cannot,  with  any 
modesty  or  consistence,  absolutely  determine,, 
that  they  had  not  as  good  grounds  for  think- 
ing themselves  right,  as  you  can  have  for 
concluding  they  were  wrong. 

But  declining  the  advantage  of  human  au- 
thority, I  am  content  the  point  should  rest  be- 
tween you  and  me.  And  here  I  beg  you  to^ 
observe,  that  I  have  one  evident  advantage 
over  you  in  judging,  namely,  that  I  have  ex- 
perienced the  good  and  evil  on  both  sides,  and 
you  only  on  one.  If  you  were  to  send  me  an  ■ 
inventory  of  your  pleasures,  how  charmingly 
your  time  runs  on,  and  how  dexterously  it  is- 
divided  between  the  coffee-house,  play-house, 
the  card-table,  and  tavern,  with  intervals  of 
balls,  concerts,  &c. ;  I  could  answ^er,  that  most 
of  these  I  have  tried,  and  tried  again,  and  know 
the  utmost  they  can  yield,  and  have  seen 
enough  of  the  rest,  most  heartily  to  despise 
them  all.  Setting  religion  entirely  out  of  the 
question,  I  profess  I  had  rather  be  a  worm  to 
crawl  upon  the  ground,  than  to  bear  the  name 
of  Man  upon  the  poor  terms  of  whiling  away 
my  life  in  an  insipid  round  of  such  insignificant 
and  unmanly  trifles.  I  will  return  your  own 
expression, — I  believe  you  to  be  a  person  of 
sense ;  but  alas !  how  do  you  prostitute  your 
talents  and  capacity ;  how  far  do  you  act  be- 
low yourself,  if  you  know  no  higher  purpose 
of  life  than  these  childish  dissipations,  toge- 
ther with  the  more  serious  business  of  rising 
early  and  sitting  up  late,  to  amass  money, 
that  you  may  be  able  to  enlarge  your  ex- 
penses! I  am  sure,  while  I  lived  in  these 
things,  I  found  them  unsatisfying  and  empty 
to  the  last  degree;  and  the  only  advantage 
they  afforded  (miserable  are  they  who  are 


LIT.  XXXTIII. 


TllE  ENJOYMENT  OP  LIFE. 


106 


Ibrcctl  U)  doom  it  nn  advantiiijo)  was,  that 
ihey  «>rton  n'li<'Vt'(l  me  frotii  llu'  trouble  and 
burden  of  tliinkinj;.  If  you  liavo  any  othrr 
pleasures  than  these,  they  are  such  as  must  he 
evil  and  ineonvcMiient,  even  ujVMi  your  own 

1)lan ;  and,  therefore,  my  triendship  will  not  al- 
ow me  to  brin;x  them  into  the  account.  I  am 
willinjj  to  hope  you  do  not  stoop  still  lower 
in  pursuit  of  satisfaction.  Thus  tar  we  stand 
upon  even  jjround.  Vou  know  all  that  a 
life  of  pleasure  can  give,  and  I  know  it  like- 
wise. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  I  should  attempt  to 
explain  to  you  the  source  and  streams  of  my 
best  pleasures,  such  as  a  comfortable  assu- 
rance of  the  pardon  of  my  sins,  an  habitual 
communion  with  the  God  who  made  heaven 
and  earth,  a  calm  reliance  on  the  divine  pro- 
vidence, the  cheerinof  prospect  of  a  better  life 
in  a  better  world,  with  the  pleasinsi-  foretastes 
of  heaven  in  my  own  soul;  should  I,  or  could 
I,  tell  you  the  pleasure  I  often  find  in  read- 
ing the  scriptures,  in  the  exercise  of  prayer, 
and  in  that  sort  of  preaching  and  conversa- 
tion which  you  despise ;  I  doubt  not  but  you 
would  think  as  meanly  of  my  happiness  as  I 
do  of  yours.  But  here  lies  the  difierence,  my 
dear  friend,  you  condemn  that  which  you 
have  never  tried.  You  know  no  more  of  these 
things  than  a  blind  man  does  of  colours ;  and, 
notwithstanding  all  your  flourishes,  I  defy 
you  to  be  at  all  times  able  to  satisfy  yourself, 
that  things  may  not  possibly  be  as  I  have  re- 
presented them. 

Besides,  what  do  I  lose  upon  my  plan,  that 
should  make  me  so  worthy  of  your  pity  1 
Have  you  a  quicker  relish  in  the  prudent  use 
of  temporal  comforts  ?  Do  you  think  I  do 
not  eat  my  food  with  as  much  pleasure  as  you 
can  do,  though  perhaps,  with  less  cost  and 
variety  ?  Is  your  sleep  sounder  than  mine? 
Have  not  I  as  much  satisfaction  in  social  life? 
It  is  true,  to  join  much  with  the  gay  flutter- 
ing tribe,  who  spend  their  days  in  laugh  and 
sing-song,  is  equally  contrary  to  my  duty  and 
inclination.  But  I  have  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance as  well  as  you.  Among  the  many  who 
favour  me  with  Iheir  esteem  and  friendship, 
there  are  some  who  are  persons  of  sense, 
learning,  wit,  and  (what,  perhaps,  may  weigh 
as  much  with  you)  of  fortune  and  distinction. 
And  if  you  should  say,  "Ay,  but  they  are 
all  enthusiasts  like  yourself,"  you  would  say 
nothing  to  the  purpose,  since,  upon  your 
maxim,  that  "  happiness  is  according  to  opi- 
nion," it  cannot  be  an  objection,  but  the  con- 
trary, to  have  my  acquaintance  to  my  own 
taste.  Thus  much  for  the  brighter  side  of 
your  situation ;  or,  let  me  add  one  thing  more. 
1  know  you  have  thoughts  of  marriage ;  do 
you  think,  if  you  should  enter  into  this  rela- 
tion, your  principles  are  calculated  to  make 
you  more  happy  in  it  than  I  am  ?  You  are 
well  acquainted  with  our  family-life.  Do 
you  propose  to  know  more  of  the  peace  and 


heartfelt  joy  of  domentic  union  than  I  have 
known,  und  (-ontiniie  to  know  to  iIhh  hour? 
I  wish  you  may  ecpial  us;  und  if  you  <!<»,  we 
shall  still  he  as  before,  but  u()on  even  ground. 
I  need  not  turn  deist,  to  enjoy  the  be.st  and 
the  most  that  this  life  can  aflord. 

But  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  the  present 
life  is  not  made  up  of  pleasureable  iruiflent.s 
ordy.  Pain,  sickness,  losses,  disappointments, 
injuries,  and  aftronts  with  men,  will  more  or 
less,  at  one  time  or  other  be  our  lot.  And 
can  you  bear  these  trials  better  than  I  J  You 
will  not  pretend  to  it.  Let  me  appeal  to 
yourself:  J  low  often  do  you  toss  and  disquiet 
yourself,  like  a  wild  bull  in  a  net,  when 
things  cross  your  expectations  !  As  your 
thoughts  are  more  engrossed  by  what  you 
see,  you  must  be  more  keenly  sensible  of 
what  you  feel.  You  cannot  view  these  trials 
as  appointed  by  a  wise  and  heavenly  Father, 
in  subservience  to  your  good :  you  cannot 
taste  the  sweetness  of  his  promises,  nor  feel 
the  secret  supports  of  his  strength,  in  an 
hour  of  affliction ;  you  cannot  so  cast  your 
burden  and  care  upon  him  as  to  find  a  sensi- 
ble relief  to  your  spirit  thereby ;  nor  can 
you  see  his  hand  engaged  and  employed  in 
effecting  your  deliverance.  Of  these  things 
you  know  no  more  than  of  the  art  of  flying,- 
but  I  seriously  assure  you,  and  I  believe  my 
testimony  will  go  farther  with  you  than  my 
judgment,  that  they  are  realities,  and  that 
I  have  found  them  to  be  so.  When  my 
worldly  concerns  have  been  most  thorny  and 
discouraging,  I  have  once  and  again  felt  the 
most  of  that  peace  which  the  world  can  nei- 
ther give  nor  take  away.  However,  I  may 
state  the  case  still  lower.  You  do  pretty 
well  among  your  friends ;  but  how  do  you 
like  being  alone  ?  Would  you  not  give 
something  for  that  happy  secret,  which  could 
enable  you  to  pass  a  rainy  day  pleasantly, 
without  the  assistance  of  business,  company, 
or  amusement  ?  W^ould  it  not  mortify  you 
greatly  to  travel  for  a  week  in  an  unfre- 
quented road,  where  you  should  meet  with 
no  lively  incidents  to  recruit  and  raise  your 
spirits  ]  Alas  !  what  a  poor  scheme  of  plea- 
sure is  yours,  that  will  not  support  an  inter- 
val of  reflection  ] 

What  you  have  heard  is  true :  I  have  a 
few  friends,  who  meet  at  my  house  once  a 
fortnight,  and  we  spend  an  hour  or  two  in 
worshipping  the  God  who  made  us.  And  can 
this  move  your  indignation  or  your  compas- 
sion ?  Does  it  show  a  much  nobler  spirit,  a 
more  refined  way  of  thinking,  to  live  altoge- 
ther without  God  in  the  world?  If  I  kept  a 
card-assembly  at  those  times,  it  would  not  dis- 
please you.  How  can  you,  as  a  person  of 
sense,  avoid  being  shocked  at  your  own  un- 
happy prejudice?  But  I  remember  how  it 
was  once  with  myself,  and  forbear  to  wonder. 
May  He  who  has  opened  my  eyes,  open  yours. 
He  only  can  do  it     I  do  not  expect  to  con- 


196 


A  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


[let.  XXXIX. 


vince  you  by  any  thin^r  I  can  say  as  of  my- 
Bolf;  but  if  lie  is  ploasod  to  mako  use  of  mo 
asliis  instrument,  then  you  will  bo  convinc(.'(l. 
How  should  I  then  rejoice!  I  should  re- 
joice to  be  useful  to  any  one,  but  especially 
to  you,  whom  I  dearly  love.  May  God  show 
you  your  true  self,  and  your  true  state ;  then 
you  will  attentively  listen  to  what  you  now 
disdain  to  hear  of,  his  goodness  in  providing 
redemption  and  pardon  for  the  chief  of  sinners, 
through  him  who  died  upon  the  cross  for  sins 
not  his  own.  Keep  this  letter  by  you  at  my 
request ;  and  when  you  write,  tell  me  that 
you  receive  it  in  good  part,  and  that  you  still 
believe  me  to  be,  &.c. 


LETTER  XXXIX. 
A  Word  in  Season. 

DEAR  SIR, — In  this  dark  and  declining  day, 
when  iniquity  abounds,  the  awful  tokens  of 
God's  displeasure  are  multiplying  around  us, 
and  too  many  professors,  not  duly  sensible  of 
the  real  cause  of  all  the  evils  we  either  feel 
or  have  reason  to  fear,  are  disputing,  instead 
of  praying,  may  the  Lord  bestow  upon  you, 
and  me,  and  upon  all  who  fear  his  name,  a 
spirit  suited  to  the  times  ;  that  the  words  of 
David,  "  I  beheld  the  transgressors,  and  was 
grieved,"  may  express  the  very  sensation  and 
frame  of  our  hearts.  Permit  me  to  keep  this 
expression  in  my  view  while  I  write,  though 
it  may  perhaps  give  my  letter  something  of 
the  air  of  a  sermon. 

The  Hebrew  word  answering  to  "I  was 
grieved,"  signifies  such  a  kind  of  grief  as  is 
mixed  with  dislike;  such  a  grief  as  a  believer 
must  feel  when  he  has  a  sense  of  his  own 
corruptions.  It  is  frequently  rendered  as  in 
Ezek.  XX.  43.  to  loathe :  "  You  shall  loathe 
yourselves  in  your  own  sight."  We  are  not 
required  strictly  to  hate  ourselves,  but  the 
evil  that  is  in  us.  So,  when  we  look  at  trans- 
gressors, we  are  not  to  hate  but  to  pity  them, 
mourn  over  them,  and  pray  for  them ;  nor 
have  we  any  right  to  boast  over  them ;  for  by 
by  nature,  and  of  ourselves,  we  are  no  better 
than  they.  But  their  sinfulness  should  cause 
a  dislike,  an  holy  indignation ;  as  it  is  re- 
corded of  our  Lord,  who  though  full  of  com- 
passion and  tenderness,  so  that  he  wept  over 
his  enemies,  and  prayed  for  his  actual  mur- 
derers, yet  looked  upon  transgressors  with 
anger,  being  grieved  for  the  hardness  of  their 
hearts. 

A  feelmg  of  this  kind  seems  essential  to 
that  new  nature  which  characterises  the 
children  of  God;  and,  where  it  is  not  in  iia- 
bitual  exercise,  it  is  a  sufficient  evidence 
that  the  soul,  if  truly  alive  to  God  at  all,  is 
at  least  in  a  lean  and  distempered  state. 
Who  can  avoid  being  grieved  and  hurt  by 


that  which  is  in  direct  opposition  to  what  he 
most  loves  ]  Believers  love  holiness,  and, 
unless  when  stupified  by  the  arts  of  Satan, 
can  hardly  bear  themselves  for  what  they 
lind  contrary  to  it  within  their  own  breasts, 
and  nmst  therefore,  of  course,  be  grieved 
with  the  sins  of  others.  Like  righteous  Lot, 
and  from  his  principles,  they  arc  "  vexed 
with  the  conversation  of  the  wicked."  Can 
they  who  reverence  the  name  of  God  be 
easy  and  unconcerned  when  they  hear  it 
blasphemed]  No:  their  ears  are  wounded 
and  their  hearts  are  pained.  Can  they  who 
are  followers  of  peace  and  purity  behold  un- 
moved the  riots,  licentiousness,  and  daring 
wickedness  of  those  who  have  cast  off  both 
shame  and  fear  ]  Can  they  who  have  bow- 
els of  mercy  and  compassion,  be  unafiected 
when  they  sec  the  iron  liand  of  oppression 
grinding  the  faces  of  the  poorl  Or  can 
any  who  love  the  songs  of  Zion,  help  being 
shocked  with  the  songs  of  drunkards  ]  I 
trust  there  are  many,  who,  upon  these  ac- 
counts are  daily  crying,  "  My  soul  is  among 
lions:"  "  Wo  is  me  that  I  dwell  in  JMeshcch !" 
"  O  gather  not  my  soul  with  sinners."  The 
thought  of  being  shut  up  forever  with  the 
ungodly  would  be  terrible  as  hell  to  a  gra- 
cious soul,  though  there  were  no  devouring 
fire,  no  keen  sense  of  the  wrath  of  God  to  be 
feared. 

They  are  grieved  likewise  upon  their 
Lord's  account,  for  they  have  obtained  a 
spark  of  zeal  for  his  honour  and  glory.  With 
Elijah,  they  are  "  very  jealous  for  the  Lord  of 
hosts."  They  feel  their  obligations  to  him, 
and  know  he  well  deserves  to  reign  in  every 
heart.  But  when,  on  the  contrary,  they  see 
almost  every  one  in  a  conspiracy  against 
him,  despising  him  to  his  face,  trampling 
upon  his  laws,  rejecting  his  authority,  and 
abusing  his  patience,  their  eyes  affect  their 
hearts.  What  man  of  sensibility  could  brook 
to  see  every  one  about  him  contriving  how 
to  affront  and  injure  the  person  whom  he 
most  loved  ]  Now  the  Lord  is  the  believer'a 
best  friend,  the  beloved  of  his  soul ;  and  there- 
fore he  is  grieved  and  troubled  when  he 
"  beholds  the  transgressors." 

This  emotion  is  likewise  heightened  by 
compassion  to  souls.  Grace  gives  some  view 
of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  dreadfulness  of  the 
wrath  of  God,  and  the  vast  importance  of  that 
word  eternity.  Thus  instructed  in  the  sanc- 
tuary of  God,  they  would  be  stocks  and  stones, 
were  they  capable  of  beholding  sinners  rush- 
ing upon  destruction  without  being  grieved 
for  them.  But  they  cannot  bear  it;  they 
cannot  but  give  and  repeat  a  faithful  warn- 
ing, though  they  have  little  reason  to  expect 
any  better  return  than  scorn  and  ill-treatment 
for  what  the  world  accounts  an  impertinent 
officiousness. 

But  who  then  are  believers?  Who  are 
thus  "  on  the  Lord's  side  ]"     If  tliese  senti 


J 


LIT.  XXXIX.] 


A  WORD  IN  SEASON. 


107 


uientdaro  common  anil  tuiIkmI  to  all  who  arc 
born  of  Liovl,  can  wo  nuik»'  no  alNilemont  ! 
Or  must  wo  unoliristian  i)orlui|w  iJio  «rroutor 
part  of  profe.siiors  ut  thi:i  timo  !  tor  it  is  too 
evitiont  that  ni;iny,  who  boar  tho  name  of 
^'oeipol  profo^'sor^!,  ilisoovor  but  liltlo  of  this 
concorn.  In  «ronoral,  I  think  thissuhjoct  af- 
fonis  no  impropor  tost  for  Uio  trial  of  our 
spirits.  Tlio  etlbctis  of  {j^nice,  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances, aro  uniform;  but  if  any,  who 
thmk  thomselvos  jxjssossors  of  it,  lool  no 
griof  lor  tho  alwumlhii,'  of  sin  antl  the  obsti- 
nacy of  sinnors,  thoy  ditibr  from  tlio  s;iints 
rocortlod  b».)th  ni  tho  OKI  and  Now  Tosta- 
niont,  and  it  will  be  their  wisdom  to  examine 
and  take  hooil  lost  tiioy  be  deceived.  It  is 
easy  to  call  Christ,  Ixird,  Lord  ;  but  a  crimi- 
nal lukewarmness  of  spirit,  where  his  cause, 
honour,  and  gospel  are  in  question,  will  one 
day  meet  with  an  awful  rebuke,  and  be 
treatotl,  ill  those  who  make  mention  of  his 
name,  as  hii^h  treason  against  his  person  and 
government. 

But  if  we  allow  that,  through  the  conta- 
gion of  the  times  and  the  power  of  Satan,  it 
is  possible  for  true  christians  to  sink  into  this 
inditlerence,  and  tor  the  wise,  as  well  as  the 
foolish  virgins,  to  sleep,  when  iliey  should 
be  watching  unto  prayer ;  even  these  have 
much  to  fear,  lest  they  should  largely  par- 
ticipate in  the  sullerings  which  the  provoca- 
tions they  connive  at  have  a  direct  tendency 
to  brmg  upon  a  sinful  people.  When  na- 
tional sins  draw  down  national  judgments, 
the  Lord  has  given  us  a  hope,  that  he  w'ill  fix 
a  mark  of  protection  upon  them  who  sigh 
and  mourn  in  secret  before  him,  for  the  evils 
which  they  are  unable  to  prevent.  To  these 
he  will  be  a  sanctuary ;  he  will  either  pre- 
serve them  unhurt  in  the  midst  of  surround- 
iog  calamities,  or  he  will  support  them  with 
•insolations  superior  to  all  their  troubles, 
when  the  hearts  of  others  are  shaken  like 
leaves  in  a  storm.  But  none  have  reason  to 
expect  to  be  thus  privileged,  who  have  not 
a  heart  given  them  to  lament  their  own  sins 
and  the  sins  of  those  among  whom  they  live. 

Surely  the  Lord  has  a  controversy  with 
this  land  ;  and  there  hardly  can  be  a  period 
assigned  in  the  annals  of  ages,  when  it  was 
more  expedient  or  seasonable  for  those  who 
fear  him  to  stir  up  each  other  to  humiliation 
and  prayer  than  at  present.  What  is  com- 
monly called  our  national  debt  is  swelled  to 
an  enormous  greatness.  It  may  be  quickly 
expressed  in  figures ;  but  a  person  must  be 
something  versed  in  calculation  to  form  a 
tolerable  idea  of  accumulated  millions.  But 
what  arithmetic  is  sufficient  to  compute  the 
immensity  of  our  national  debt  in  a  spiritual 
sense  ?  or,  in  other  words,  the  amount  of  our 
national  sins  I  The  spirit  of  infidelity,  which, 
for  a  time,  distinguished  comparatively  a 
few,  and,  like  a  river,  was  restrained  within 
narrow  bounds,  has  of  late  years  broken  down 


its  banks  and  dclugoii  tho  land.  Thix  wido- 
spromling  ovil  ha.s,  in  ininimorabh?  m^tlln<•f»«, 
as  might  ba  oxpoctod,  omljoldcnod  the  nulu- 
ral  heart  against  liie  foar  of  (iod,  hardened 
it  to  an  insensibility  of  moral  obligation,  and 
strengthened  its  prejudices  against  tho  j.mj**. 
\>v\.  'J'he  consequence  has  boon,  that  profli- 
gate wickedness  is  become  almost  as  univer- 
sal as  the  air  we  breathe,  and  is  jjractiscd 
with  little  more  reserve  or  secrecy  than  the 
tninsactions  of  common  businoKS,  except  in 
such  instances  as  would  subject  the  otlondor 
to  the  penalty  of  human  laws,  i)  tho  un- 
speakable patience  of  (jikI  I  The  multiplied 
instances  of  impiety,  blasphemy,  cruelty, 
adultery,  villany,  and'  abominations  not  to  be 
thought  of  witiiout  horror,  under  which  this 
land  groans,  are  only  known  to  him  who 
knoweth  all  things.  There  arc  few  sins 
which  imply  greater  contempt  of  (iod,  or  a 
more  obdurate  state  of  mind  in  the  otlender, 
than  perjury,  yet  the  guilt  of  it  is  ko  little 
regarded,  and  temptations  to  it  so  very  fre- 
quent, that  perhaps  I  do  not  go  too  far  in  sup- 
jx)sing  there  are  more  deliberate  acts  of  per- 
jury committed  amongst  us  than  among  all 
the  rest  of  mankind  taken  together.  Though 
some  of  the  Roman  poets  and  historians  have 
given  very  dark  pictures  of  the  times  they 
lived  in,  their  worst  descriptions  of  this  kind 
would  hardly  be  found  exaggerated  if  applied 
to  our  own.  But  what  are  the  sins  of  hea- 
thens, if  compared  with  the  like  evils  perpe- 
trated in  a  land  bearing  the  name  of  chris- 
tian, favoured  with  the  word  of  God,  the  light 
of  the  gospel,  and  enjoying  the  blessings  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty  and  peace  in  a 
higher  degree,  and  for  a  longer  continuance, 
than  was  aflbrded  to  any  people  of  whose 
history  we  have  heard  1 

The  state  of  the  churches  of  Christ  at  this 
time  afibrds  likewise  ample  cause  Ibr  hu- 
miliation and  grief.  The  formality,  confor- 
mity to  the  world,  the  want  of  love,  the 
intemperate,  and  unprofitable  contentions, 
which  prevail  among  us,  show^  how  faintly 
the  power  of  the  gospel  is  felt,  even  by  many 
who  profess  to  have  embraced  it.  The  true 
and  undefiled  doctrine  of  Jesus  is  not  only 
opposed  by  its  declared  enemies,  but  wounded 
and  dishonoured  in  the  house  of  its  friends. 
And  though  the  sins  of  those  who  avow  sub- 
jection to  the  institutions  of  Christ,  may  not 
have  so  gross  a  stamp  of  profligacy  and  im- 
morality, as  of  those  who  set  him  openly  at 
defiance ;  yet  they  have,  in  some  respects, 
an  aggravation,  of  which  the  others  are  not 
dapable  ;  as  being  committed  against  clearer 
light,  and  peculiar  acknowledged  obligations. 
From  the  consideration  of  both  taken  to- 
gether, who,  that  has  a  spark  of  seriousness 
and  attention,  and  that  has  learned  from 
scripture  and  history  the  sure  connexion  be- 
tween sin  and  trouble,  can  forbare  trembling" 
at  that  alarming  question,  so  otlen  propose*] 


198 


TO  PROFESSORS  IN  TRADE. 


[let.  XL. 


to  the  consciences  of  unjrrateful  Israel  of 
old,  "SImll  not  I  visit  for  these  thinf^s?  saith 
the  Lord :  and  shall  not  my  soul  be  avennfcd 
on  such  a  nation  as  this  ]"  especially  wlien 
we  see  the  dispensations  of  God's  j)rovidence 
60  awfully  corresponding  with  the  Ihreaten- 
ings  in  liis  word. 

How  much  is  it  to  be  desired,  then,  that 
all  who  truly  fear  the  Lord,  instead  of  wast- 
ing their  time  in  useless  squabbles,  may 
unite  in  earnest  prayer  ;  and,  witii  deep  com- 
punction of  iieart,  bemoan  tliosc  evils,  wliich, 
unless  repented  of  and  forsaken,  may  bring 
upon  us,  as  a  people,  such  distress  as  neither 
we  nor  our  lathers  have  known  !  If  he  is 
pleased  tiius  to  give  us  a  heart  to  seek  him, 
he  will  yet  be  found  of  us ;  but  if  when  his 
hand  is  lifted  up,  we  cannot,  or  will  not  see, 
nor  regard  the  signs  of  the  times,  there  is 
great  reason  to  fear,  that  our  case  is  deplora- 
ble indeed. 

A  few,  however,  there  will  be,  who  will 
lay  these  things  suitably  to  heart ;  and  whom 
the  Lord  will  favour  and  spare,  as  a  man 
spareth  his  only  son  that  serveth  him.  That 
you  and  I  may  be  of  this  happy  number,  is 
the  sincere  prayer  of,  &c. 


LETTER  XL. 
A  Word  to  Professors  in  Trade. 

DEAR  SIR, — It  is  suspected,  or  rather  itJs' 
too  certainly  known,  that,  among  those  wdio 
are  deemed  gospel-professors,  there  are  some 
persons  who  allow  themselves  in  the  practice 
of  dealing  in  prohibited,  uncustomed,  or,  as 
the  common  phrase  is,  smuggled  goods,  to 
the  prejudice  of  the  public  revenue,  and  the 
detriment  of  the  fair  trader. 

The  decisions  of  the  word  of  God  upon  this 
point,  are  so  plain  and  determinate,  that  it  is 
rather  difficult  to  conceive  how  a  sincere 
mind  can  either  overlook  or  mistake  them. 
The  same  authority  which  forbids  us  to  com- 
mit adultery,  or  murder,  requires  us  to  "  ren- 
der unto  Cesar  tlie  things  that  are  Cesar's ;" 
to  render  unto  all  their  dues:  tribute  to  whom 
tribute,  custom  to  whom  custom.  These  pre- 
cepts enjoin  no  more  than  what  the  common 
sense  of  mankind  pronounces  to  be  due  from 
subjects  and  members  of  society,  to  the  go- 
vernments they  live  under,  and  by  which 
they  are  protected.  But  the  obligation  is 
greatly  enforced  upon  those  wiio  acknow- 
ledge themselves  the  disciples  of  Christ,  since 
he  has  been  pleased  to  make  their  compli- 
ance herein  a  part  of  the  obedience  they 
owe  to  himself  And  it  is  plain,  tliat  these 
injunctions  are  universal  and  binding,  under 
all  civil  governments,  as  such ;  for  none  can 
justly  suppose  that  tributes  exacted  by  the 
Roman  emperors,  (under  whose  dominion  the 


first  christians  lived)  such  as  Tiberius  or 
Nero,  had  the  sanction  of  our  I>ord  and  his 
apostles  on  account  of  their  peculiar  equity. 

The  vending  smuggled  goods,  or  the  buy- 
ing them,  if  known  to  be  so,  is  likewise  in- 
jurious to  the  fair  trader,  who  conscientiously 
paying  the  prescribed  duties,  cannot  afford 
to  sell  so  cheap  as  the  smuggler:  and  there- 
fore, must  expect  the  fewer  customers.  In  this 
view,  it  offends  the  royal  law,  of  "  doing  to 
others  as  we  would  they  should  do  unto  us." 
Tlie  force  of  this  argument  may  be  easily 
felt  by  any  one  who  will  honestly  make  the 
case  his  own.  Without  any  nice  reasoning, 
people  may  know  in  a  moment,  that  they 
should  not  like  to  be  put  to  this  disadvantage. 
It  is,  therefore,  unjust,  (i.  e.  sinful,  and  utterly 
unbecoming  a  professor  of  religion)  to  pur- 
chase smuggled  goods,  even  in  small  quanti- 
ties, and  for  family-use.  As  for  those  who, 
being  in  trade  themselves,  make  this  practice 
a  branch  of  their  business,  and,  under  the 
semblance  of  a  fair  reputation,  are  doing 
things  in  secret,  which  they  would  tremble 
to  have  discovered,  being  afraid  of  the  ex- 
chequer, though  not  of  God,  I  can  only  pray, 
that  God  may  give  them  repentance;  for  it 
is  a  work  cf  darkness,  and  needs  it.  Trans- 
actions of  this  kind  cannot  be  carried  on  for 
a  course  of  time,  without  such  a  series  and 
complication  of  fraud  and  meanness,*  and, 
for  the  most  part,  of  perjury  likewise,  as 
W'ould  be  scandalous,  not  only  in  a  professed 
christian,  but  in  an  avowed  infidel. 

It  should  be  observed  likewise,  that  there 
is  hardly  any  set  of  men  more  lost  to  society, 
or  in  a  situation  more  dangerous  to  them- 
selves and  others,  than  the  people  who  are 
called  smugglers.  Frequent  fightings,  and 
sometimes  murder  itself,  are  the  consequence 
of  their  illicit  commerce.  Their  money  is 
ill  gotten,  and  it  is  generally  ill  spent.  They 
are  greatly  to  be  pitied.  The  employment 
they  are  accustomed  to,  has  a  direct  tendency 
to  deprive  them  of  character,  and  the  privi- 
leges of  social  life,  and  to  harden  their  hearts, 
and  stupify  their  consciences,  in  the  ways  of 
sin.  But  for  whom  are  they  risking  their 
lives,  and  ruining  their  souls]  I  would 
hope,  reader,  not  for  you,  if  you  account  your- 
self a  christian.  If  you,  for  the  sake  of  gain, 
encourage  or  assist  them,  by  br.ying  or  sell- 
ing their  goods,  you  are  so  far  responsible  for 
the  consequences.  You  encourage  them  in 
sin  ;  you  expose  them  to  mischief.  And  have 
you  so  learned  Christ  1  Is  this  the  testimony 
you  give  of  the  uprightness  of  your  hearts 
and  ways  1  Is  it  thus  you  show  your  com- 
passion for  the  souls  of  men  ?  Ah  !  shake 
your  hands  from  gain  so  dearly  earned- 
Think  not  to  support  the  cause  of  God  with 
such  gain  ;  he  hates  robbery  for  bumt-offer- 


♦  Dr  Johnson,  defininff  a  smusjfflcr,  says,  he  is  "a 
wretch  who  iniporta  or  exports  goods  without  payment 
of  Uie  customs." 


XLI.] 


ON  THE  MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS. 


100 


mij.  Think  it  not  lawful,  or  Kiifc,  to  put  «i 
furtliiu^  of  it  into  your  troiisiiry,  l«'st  it 
H»'rrt'tly  oommuiiicalo  a  moth  and  a  tnirso  to 
nil  that  you  possess  ;  for  it  is  the  price?  of 
1)1o<h1,  tht»  1)1o(h1  of  souls.  If  you  aro  indood 
a  child  of  (ukI,  and  will  jx'rsist  in  this  path 
atb^r  a(hnonitii>n  roooiviHl,  h«'  assurod  yoursin 
will  tind  you  out.  If  the  Lord  loves  you,  he 
will  not  sutler  you  to  pra^jper  in  your  perverse- 
noss.  You  may  rather  expect,  that  na  a 
little  dainaijfed  corn  is  sutllcient  to  spoil  a 
whole  heap  to  which  it  is  laid,  so  money, 
thus  obtained,  will  deprive  you  of  the  blessing 
and  comfort  you  mi«jfht  otherwise  expect  from 
your  lawful  acipiisitions. 

If  you  are  determined  to  persist  in  opposi- 
tion to  scripture,  to  law,  to  ccjuity  and  hu- 
manity, you  have,  doubtless,  as  1  suppose  you 
a  protessor,  some  plea  or  excuse  with  which 
you  attempt  to  justify  yourself  and  to  keep 
your  conscience  quiet.  See  to  it,  that  it  be 
such  a  one  as  will  bear  the  examination  of  a 
dyins:  hour.  Y'ou  will  not  surely  plead  that 
•'  thiniTs  are  come  to  such  a  pass,  there  is  no 
carryino;  on  business  upon  other  terms  to  ad- 
vantaoi'e!"  Will  the  practice  of  the  world, 
who  knew  not  Christ,  be  a  proper  precedent 
for  you  who  call  yourself  by  his  name  ?  That 
cannot  be,  since  his  command  is,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  follow  a  multitude  to  do  evil,"  That  the 
truth  and  power  of  his  grace  may  be  mani- 
fested, he  is  pleased  to  put  his  servants  into 
such  situations,  that  they  must  forego  some 
seeming  advantages,  and  suffer  some  seem- 
ing hardships,  in  their  worldly  connexions, 
if  they  will  approve  themselves  faithful  to 
him,  and  live  in  the  exercise  of  a  good  con- 
science. He  promises,  that  his  grace  shall 
be  sufficient  for  them.  It  is  the  blessing  of 
the  Lord  that  maketh  rich  ;  and,  for  want  of 
this,  we  see  many  rise  early,  take  late  rest, 
and  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness,  to  no  pur- 
pose. And  I  believe,  integrity  and  diligence 
in  business,  with  a  humble  dependence  upon 
his  providence,  are  the  best  methods  of 
thriving  even  in  temporals.  However,  they 
who  lose  for  him  are  in  no  danger  of  losing 
by  him.  They  may  be  confident  of  so  much 
as  he  sees  best  for  them  ;  and  they  shall  have 
his  peace  and  blessing  with  it.  But  if,  when 
you  are  placed  in  a  state  of  trial,  the  love  of 
the  world  is  so  powerful  in  your  heart,  that 
you  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  enrich- 
ing yourself  by  unlawful  means,  you  have 
great  reason  to  fear  you  have  not  his  Spirit, 
and  are  therefore  none  of  his. — I  am,  (Sec. 


LETTER  XLL 

On  the  Ministry  of  Angels. 

DEAR  SIR, — The  saints  on   earth,  though 
exposed  to  many  sufferings,  and  assaulted 


by  many  eneniieH,  are  n»  Bate  ns  the  xnint* 
in  glory.  Th(>y  have  been  eniihled,  in  tlio 
day  of  (iod's  |K)wer  to  couuiiit  themwlvcM  to 
the  care  of  Jesus,  tin;  great  Hhepherd,  who 
is  faithful  to  his  trust,  and  able  to  save;  thein 
to  the  uttermost.  His  eye  is  always  u[K)n 
them,  his  (everlasting  arms  are  undernf^oth 
them,  and  no  |H)wer,  or  policy,  can  Kcparate 
them  from  his  love. 

The  aixtstle,  in  the  nanw  and  behalf  of  the 
church  militant,  having  taken  a  leisurely  and 
distinct  survey  of  all  the  ditliciilties  and  op- 
position they  can  |)ossibly  meet  with,  in  life 
or  in  death,  from  the  visible  or  invisible 
worlds,  triumphs  in  an  assurance,  that  none 
of  these  things  singly,  nor  all  of  them  to- 
gether, shall  prevail ;  but  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, believers  shall  be  made  conquerors, 
yea,  more  than  conquerors,  through  him  who 
has  loved  them. 

In  the  course  of  his  enumeration  of  the 
real  and  supposed  dangers  to  which  the  peo- 
ple of  Christ  are  exposed,  he  particularly 
mentions,  angels,  principalities,  and  powers, 
intimating  to  us  a  subject  of  great  impor- 
tance, though  too  seldom  and  too  faintly  at- 
tended to  by  us ;  I  mean  the  part  which  the 
inhabitants  of  the  unseen  world  take  in  our 
concerns.  Angel  is  a  general  name  ;  the 
terms,  pincipalities  and  |)owers,  and  else- 
where, thrones  and  dominions,  apply  to  them, 
we  shall  not,  perhaps,  clearly  understand, 
till  we  mingle  with  the  world  of  spirits. 
These  different  names  seem,  however,  to 
imply  that  some  difference  of  degree,  and 
possibly  some  subordination  of  rule,  obtains 
among  them.  But  they  shall  not  be  able 
either  singly  or  collectively  to  separate  be- 
lievers from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus. 

The  general  distribution  of  angels,  princi- 
palities, and  powers,  is  into  good  and  evil. 
They  were  all  created  glorious  and  excellent 
creatures ;  for  nothing  but  good  could  origi- 
nally proceed  from  God,  the  fountain  of  good- 
ness. But  some  of  them  "  kept  not  their 
first  estate."  Sin  dispelled  them  of  their 
glory,  and  changed  them  from  angels  of  light 
into  powers  of  darkness.  And  though  they 
have  a  permissive  liberty,  subservient  to  the 
limitations  and  designs  of  divine  wisdom,  to 
influence  the  minds,  and  to  interfere  in  the 
affairs  of  mankind  ;  yet  they  are  confined  in 
chains  of  darkness  which  they  cannot  break, 
and  are  reserved  to  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day. 

There  are  likewise  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  elect  and  good  angels.  Rev,  iii.  11. 
who  were  preserved  by  sovereign  grace,  and 
are  now  establirshed  (together  with  believers) 
in  Christ  Jesus,  the  great  head  of  the  whole 
family  of  God,  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  From 
these,  we  may  be  sure,  believers  have  no- 
thing to  fear.  They  are  our  brethren  and  fel- 
low-servants.    They  join  in  the  song  of  tho 


200 


ON  TIIE  MINISTRY  OF  ANGELS. 


redeemed  before  tlie  tlirone ;  and  rejoice  in 
the  conversion  of  a  sinner  upon  earth.  We 
cannot  include  the^^e  in  the  apostle's  chal- 
lenge, any  farther  than  by  way  of  supposi- 
tion ;  as  lie  expresses  himself  upon  another 
occasion,  Gal.  i.  8.  it  is  not  possible  that  an 
angel  from  heaven  should  preach,  if  he  came 
to  preach  any  other  <jospel  than  that  wliich 
is  revealed  in  scripture ;  but  if  such  a  thing 
could  be  supposcil,  we  ought  not  to  re- 
gard him.  So  it  is  not  to  be  thought  that 
the  elect  angels  of  God  should  wish  to  hinder 
the  salvation  of  a  sinner.  But  if  you  con- 
ceive for  a  moment,  that  any,  or  all  of  them 
could  form  such  a  design,  they  would  not  be 
able  to  succeed  ;  tor  they  are  all  subject  to  him 
who  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins 
in  his  own  blood.  So  far,  however,  are  the  holy 
angels  from  designing  us  harm,  that  they  are 
greatly  instrumental  in  promoting  our  good. 
They  are  "  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister  to  the  heirs  of  salvation  ;"  and  they 
rejoice  in  the  service,  and  account  it  their 
honour  to  be  thus  employed. 

I  propose,  in  this  paper,  briefly  to  consider 
the  ministry  of  good  angels ;  and  may,  per- 
haps, hereafter  offer  a  lew  thoughts  on  the 
influence  and  interference  of  evil  angels, 
who  are  continually  labouring  to  disturb 
and  trouble  those  whom  they  are  not  per- 
mitted to  destroy.  And  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  amuse  the  reader  with  new  and  strange 
conjectures  upon  these  subjects,  or  to  intrude 
into  those  things  which  are  not  revealed,  but 
shall  confine  myself  to  the  express  declara- 
tions of  the  word  of  God. 

The  great  God  works  all  in  all,  in  both 
worlds.  It  is  he  who  filleth  the  earth  witli 
good  things,-  causes  the  grass  to  grow  for 
the  cattle,  and  provides  corn  for  the  food  of 
man.  But  in  thus  spreading  a  table  for  us 
he  makes  use  of  instruments.  He  commands 
his  sun  to  shine  and  his  rain  to  descend.  So 
he  is  the  life,  strength,  and  comfort  of  the 
renewed  soul.  All  the  streams  of  grace 
flow  from  Christ  tlie  fountain.  But,  from 
the  analogy  observable  in  his  v.'orks,  we  might 
reasonably  suppose,  that,  on  many  occasions, 
he  is  pleased  to  use  means  and  instruments, 
and  particularly  the  ministry  of  his  angels, 
to  communicate  good  to  his  children.  Scrip- 
ture expressly  confirms  this  inference,  and 
leaves  it  no  longer  a  point  of  mere  conjec- 
ture. He  gives  his  angels  charge  over  them, 
and  they  encamp  round  about  them  that  fear 
him.  In  this  way  lionour  is  given  to  Jesus, 
as  the  Lord  both  of  angels  and  men  ;  and  a 
sweet  intercourse  is  kept  up  between  the 
different  parts  of  the  household  of  God.  That 
angels  have  been  thus  employed  in  fact,  is 
plain  from  the  history  both  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testament.  They  have  often  made 
themselves  visible  when  sent  to  declare  the 
will  of  God ;  as  to  Jacob,  Elijah,  and  David. 
Gabriel  appeared  to  Zacharias  and   Mary; 


[let.  xu. 

and  a  multitude  joined  in  ascribing  "  glory 
to  God  in  the  highest"  when  they  brought  to 
the  shepherds  the  joyful  news  of  a  Saviour's 
birth.  An  angel  delivered  Peter  from  prison, 
and  comforted  Paul  when  tossed  by  a  tem- 
pest upon  the  sea.  How  far  the  visible 
ministrations  of  angels  is  continued  in  these 
days  is  not  eatjy  to  determine.  Many  per- 
sons have  been  imposed  upon  by  Satan, 
through  such  expectations ;  and  it  is  not  safe 
to  look  for  extraordinary  things ;  yet  I  do 
not  knew  that  we  have  warrant  from  scrip- 
ture to  limit  the  Lord,  so  far  as  to  aflirm  that 
he  doth  not,  nor  ever  will,  upon  any  occa- 
sion, permit  his  angels  to  be  seen  by  men, 
as  in  former  times.  The  apostle,  pressing 
believers  to  exercise  hospitality,  uses  this 
argument,  that  "  thereby  some  liave  enter- 
tained angels  unawares ;"  which  would 
hardly  seem  to  be  a  pertinent  motive,  if  it 
Vy'ere  absolutely  certain  that  angels  would 
never  offer  themselves  as  visitants  to  the  ser- 
vants of  God  in  future  times  as  they  had  former- 
ly done.  But,  waving  speculations  as  to  their 
visible  appearance,  it  is  sufficient  to  know 
that  they  are  really,  though  invisibly,  near 
us,  and  mindful  of  us. 

]May  we  not  receive  assistance  from  the 
angels  in  our  spiritual  warfare  1  That  evil 
angels  have  an  influence  and  power  to  distress 
and  disquiet  us,  is  well  known  to  exercised 
souls;  and  it  seems  quite  reasonable  to  believe 
that  the  good  angels  are  as  willing  and  as 
able  to  communicate  helpful  and  encouraging 
impressions.  As  it  is  not  always  easy  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  temptations  of  Satan 
and  the  workings  of  our  own  evil  hearts;  so  it 
may  be  equally  or  more  difficult  to  distinguish 
these  assistances  from  the  efi'ects  of  gracious 
principles  abiding  in  us,  or  from  the  leadings 
and  motions  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  Nor  need 
we  be  anxious  about  it.  We  cannot  err  in 
ascribing  all  to  the  Lord.  Yet  there  is  some- 
thing clieering  in  the  thought  that  we  are  ac- 
companied and  surrounded  by  these  blessed 
spirits,  who  have  both  inclination  and  ability 
to  relieve,  strengthen,  and  admonish  us,  in 
ways  which  we  cannot  fully  understand. 
Who  can  tell  how  often,  and  how  seasonably 
a  promise,  a  caution,  a  direction,  from  or 
agreeable  to  the  word  of  God,  is  darted  upon 
our  minds  by  these  kind  messengers  of  our 
Father's  love  ? 

We  may  warrantably  think  they  are  em- 
ployed in  restraining,  over-ruling,  and  con- 
troiing  the  designs  of  Satiin  and  his  angels. 
The  power,  malice,  and  subtilty  of  our  enemy 
are  very  great.  We  may  learn  what  he 
would  do  to  us  all,  if  he  could,  from  the  in- 
stance of  Job.  But  the  Lord  rebukes  him, 
and  that  most  probably  by  the  ministry  of 
unfallen  angels,  who  are  said  to  encamp 
round  his  people  to  deliver  them;  and  doubt- 
less their  care  is  especially  employed  where 
the  greatest  danger  lies.     Much  to  this  pur* 


.,.] 


ON  TlIK  MINISTRY  OP  ANGKLS. 


201 


pose  s(MMii.s  to  bo  implied  in  tlio  following  pas- 
flOfifes,  Dim.  x.  I'Ay  Ilev.  xii.  7,  Jude  9. 

riiey  are  witnesses  to  the  sullerin;^  and 
to  tlie  worship  of  his  people,  1  Cor.  iv.  i). 
Thouifh  they  do  not  show  themselves  to  us 
as  heretofore  to  Peter  or  Paul,  they  are  still 
near  aiul  attentive,  are  interested  in  the  con- 
flicts and  rejoice  in  the  victories  of  a  jxx)r 
believer.  Tliey  are  present  likewise  in  our 
solemn  assemblies;  thtTofore  the  ajxistle 
char^fes  Timothy,  us  "  Hefore  the  elect  an- 
«rels,"  and  seems  to  refer  to  them  in  1  Cor. 
xi.  10.  This  reflection  should  enliven  and 
regulate  our  thoujjhts  when  we  come  to- 
gether; for,  thouijh  the  presence  of  our  I^rd 
and  Saviour  is  the  ofreat  consideration,  yet 
this  likewise  may,  in  its  proper  place,  have 
some  influence  to  com^wse  our  behaviour, 
Heb.  xii.  2^. 

The  ministry  of  angels  preserves  us  from 
innumerable  dangers  and  alarms  which  await 
us  in  our  daily  path.  This  is  expressly 
taught  in  Psalm  xci.  Wiien  we  receive  lit- 
tle or  no  harm  from  a  tall,  or  wlicn  a  sudden 
motion  of  our  minds  leads  us  to  avoid  a  dan- 
ger which  we  were  not  aware  of,  perhaps 
the  angels  of  God  have  been  the  means  of 
our  preservation;  nay,  it  may  be  owing  to 
their  good  offices  that  we  ever  perform  a 
journey  in  safety,  or  are  preserved  from  the 
evils  we  arc  liable  to  when  sleeping  upon 
our  beds,  and  incapable  of  taking  any  care  of 
ourselves. 

Finally  they  are  appointed  to  attend  the 
saints  in  their  last  hours,  and,  in  a  manner 
beyond  our  present  apprehension,  to  keep  off 
the  powers  of  darkness,  and  bear  tlie  children, 
of  God  safely  home  to  their  Father's  house, 
Luke  xvi,  22. 

The  limits  of  a  sheet  will  not  admit  of  en- 
largement upon  these  particulars.  Tiic  sub- 
ject is  pleading  and  comfortable,  and  well 
suited  to  encourage  believers  under  two  very 
common  trials. 

1.  We  are  often  cast  dowTi  to  think  how 
few  there  are  w-ho  worship  God  in  spirit  and 
in  truth,  and  are  ready  to  complain,  with 
Elijah,  that  we  are  almost  left  to  serve  him 
alone.  But  Jesus  is  not  slighted  and  despised 
in  yonder  world  as  he  is  in  this.  If,  like  the 
servant  of  Elisha,  our  eyes  were  supernatu- 
rally  opened  to  take  a  glance  within  the  vail, 
what  a  glorious  and  astonishing  prospect 
would  the  innumerable  host  of  angels  afford 
us !  Then  we  should  be  convinced  that,  far 
from  being  alone,  there  are  unspeakably 
2  C 


more  fjr  u.s  than  against  i\n.  Faith  nnppli<»i» 
the  want  of  sight,  is  the  evidence  of  tliniyn 
not  seen,  and,  u[K)n  the  authority  of  tin-  unrd 
of  (i(xl,  is  as  w»'ll  satisfii.'d  (*f  thi-ir  exixIriH-e 
and  employment  as  if  tia-y  were  actually  la 
our  view. 

Again,  2.  Many  of  the  liOrd'H  people  aro 
tempted  to  think  them.selves  neglecti'd  by 
their  fellow-christians  because  tln'y  ar<!  jKHir, 
a  «liscouragement  for  whicji  there  is  often 
too  nuich  occasion  given.  But,  fxjor  beliuvcr, 
be  not  greatly  (listres.sed  u]xm  this  accoimt. 
If  your  brethren  upon  earth  are  too  prone  to 
sliglit  you,  your  heavenly  friends  are  not  so 
proud  and  t(>olish.  The  angels  will  attend 
and  assist  you,  tiiough  you  live  in  a  jxjor 
mud-walled  cottage,  as  willingly  as  if  you 
were  lodged  in  the  palace  of  a  king.  They 
are  not  atfected,  one  way  or  the  other,  with 
those  trivial  distinctions  which  are  so  apt  to 
bias  the  judgment  and  regartl  of  mortals. 

May  we  take  a  pattern  from  the  angels ! 
Their  whole  desire  is  to  fulfil  the  will  of  G(xl, 
and  they  account  no  service  mean  in  which 
he  is  pleased  to  employ  them,  otherwi>e, 
great  and  holy  as  they  are,  they  might  dis- 
dain to  wait  upon  sinful  worms.  Our  vanity 
prompts  us  to  aim  at  sometiiing  great,  and 
to  wish  for  such  services  as  might  make  us 
known,  talked  of,  and  regarded.  But  a  child 
of  God,  if  in  the  way  of  duty,  and  in  the  place 
which  the  Lord's  pro\  idence  has  allotted  him, 
is  well  employed,  though  he  should  have  no 
higher  service  than  to  sweep  the  streets, 
provided  he  does  it  humbly,  thankfully,  and 
heartily,  as  to  the  Lord.  An  angel  so  placed 
could  do  no  more. 

This  paper  will  doubtless  fall  into  the 
hands  of  some  who  are  not  believers,  but  are 
spending  their  days  in  sin.  With  a  word  to 
such  as  these,  I  would  conclude.  To  you 
this  is  but  a  dark  subject.  You  have  reason 
to  be  alarmed  ;  for,  be  assured,  the  whole 
host  of  heaven  is  against  you,  while  they 
consider  you  in  a  state  of  rebellion  against 
their  Lord.  They  burn  with  an  holy  zeal 
to  avenge  his  cause,  and  only  wait  his  com- 
mand to  smite  you  as  one  of  them  smote 
Ilerocl,  for  not  giving  glory  to  God.  Pray 
for  faith  and  repentance.  If  you  believe 
in  Jesus,  and  turn  from  your  evil  ways, 
the  angels  will  love  you,  rejoice  over 
you,  watch  over  you,  fight  for  you,  and  at 
last  convey  you  into  his  glorious  presence. 
— I  am,  &c. 

March  5,  1777. 


CARDIPHONIA; 

at, 

THE  UTTERANCE  OF  THE  HEART 


IN  THE  COURSE  07 


A  REAL  CORRESPONDENCE. 


Haec  res  et  jungit,  juiictos  et  seivat  amicos.— iibr.  Lib.  i.  Sat.  3. 

As  in  water  face  ansvvereth  to  face,  so  the  heart  of  man  to  man.— Prm.  zxviu  11 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


LETTER  I. 

March— 1765. 

MY  LORD, — I  remember,  when  I  once  had 
the  pleasure  of  waiting  on  you,  you  were 
pleased  to  begin  an  interesting  conversation, 
which,  to  my  concern,  was  soon  interrupted. 
The  subject  was  concernino-  the  causes,  na- 
ture, and  marks  of  a  decline  in  grace ;  how  it 
happens  that  we  loose  that  warm  impression 
of  divine  things,  which  in  some  favoured  mo- 
ments we  think  it  almost  impossible  to  for- 
get ;  how  far  this  change  of  frame  is  consist- 
ent with  a  spiritual  growth  in  other  respects ; 
how  to  form  a  comparative  judgment  of  our 
proficiency  upon  the  whole ;  and  by  what 
steps  the  losses  we  sustain  from  our  neces- 
sary connexion  with  a  sinful  nature  and  a 
fiinful  world  may  be  retrieved  from  time  to 
time.  I  beg  your  Lordship's  permission  to 
fill  up  the  paper  with  a  view  to  these  inqui- 
ries. I  do  not  mean  to  offer  a  laboured  essay 
on  them,  but  such  thouglits  as  shall  occur 
while  the  pen  is  in  my  hand. 

The  awakened  soul  (especially  when,  after 
a  season  of  distress  and  terror,  it  begins  to 
taste  that  the  Lord  is  gracious)  finds  itself 
as  in  a  new  world.  No  change  in  outward 
life  can  be  so  sensible,  so  affecting.  No 
wonder,  then,  that,  at  such  a  time,  little  else 
can  be  thought  of  The  transition  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  from  a  sense  of  wrath  to  a  liope 
of  glory,  is  the  greatest  that  can  be  imagined, 
.and  is  often  times  as  sudden  as  wonderful. 
Hence  the  general  characteristics  of  young 
eonverts  are  zeal  and  love.  Like  Israel  at 
202 


the  Red  Sea,  they  have  just  seen  the  won- 
derful works  of  the  Lord,  and  they  cannot 
but  sing  his  praise  ;  they  are  deeply  affected 
with  the  danger  they  have  lately  escaped, 
and  with  the  case  of  multitudes  around  them, 
who  are  secure  and  careless  in  the  same 
alarming  situation ;  and  a  sense  of  their  own 
mercies,  and  a  compassion  for  the  souls  of 
others,  is  so  transporting,  that  they  can 
hardly  forbear  preaching  to  every  one  they 
meet. 

This  emotion  is  highly  just  and  reason- 
able, with  respect  to  the  causes  from  whence 
it  springs ;  and  it  is  doubtless  a  proof,  not 
only  of  the  imperfection,  but  the  depravity 
of  our  nature,  that  we  are  not  always  thus 
affected.  Yet  it  is  not  entirely  genuine.  If 
we  examine  this  character  closely,  which 
seems,  at  first  sight,  a  pattern  and  a  reproof 
to  christians  of  longer  standing,  we  shall,  for 
the  most  part,  find  it  attended  with  consider- 
able defects. 

1.  Such  persons  are  very  weak  in  faith., 
Their  confidence  arises  rather  from  the] 
lively  impressions  of  joy  within,  than  from  a] 
distinct  and  clear  apprehension  of  the  worl 
of  God  in  Christ.  The  comforts  which  are! 
intended  as  cordials,  to  animate  them  against! 
the  opposition  of  an  unbelieving  world,  theyj 
mistake  and  rest  in  as  the  proper  evidence 
of  their  hope.  And  hence  it  comes  to  pa 
that  when  the  Lord  vnries  his  dispensations 
and  hides  his  face,  they  are  soon  trouble 
and  at  their  wits  end. 

2.  They  who  are  in  this  state  of  t^eir  fii 
love,  are  seldom  free  from  soraethinof  of 


I.KT.  I.] 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOIJLEMAN. 


203 


r (Mi8()riiu:s  spirit.  Tlioy  have  nol  yet  felt  all 
ftio  tieceittuliu'ss  of  tlu'ir  own  lieurLs;  Ihoy 
art'  not  well  aeinuiinted  with  the  devieew  or 
tiMuptiitions  of  Satan;  and  therefore  know 
nol  how  to  syni|)athi/.e  or  make  allowances 
where  ullowaniM\s  are  noei'ssjiry  and  due, 
and  can  hardly  hear  with  any  who  do  not 
discover  the  t^anie  earnestness  as  theinselv(\'<. 
3.  They  are  likewise  more  or  less  under 
the  influence  of  self-rij,'-hteousness  and  self- 
will.  They  mean  well;  hut  not  l)ein«r  as  yet 
well  acquainted  with  the  spiritual  meaninnr 
and  proper  use  of  the  law,  nor  estahlishcd  in 
the  life  of  faith,  a  part  (otlentimes  a  very 
considerahle  part)  of  their  zeal  spends  it.sojf 
in  externals  and  non-essentials,  prompts  them 
to  practise  what  is  not  connuanded,  to  re- 
frain from  what  is  lawful,  and  to  observe 
various  and  needless  austerities  and  sinii^u- 
larities,  as  their  tempers  and  circumstances 
differ. 

However,  with  all  their  faults,  methinks 
there  is  somethinfr  very  beautiful  and  enga- 
ging- in  the  honest  veiiemence  of  a  youncp 
convert.  Some  cold  and  rigid  judges  are 
ready  to  reject  these  promising  appearances 
on  account  of  incidental  blemishes.  But 
would  a  gardener  throw  away  a  fine  nec- 
tarine, because  it  is  green,  and  has  not  yet 
attained  all  that  beauty  and  flavour  which  a 
few  more  showers  and  suns  will  impart: 
Perhaps  it  will  hold,  for  the  most  part,  in 
grace  as  in  nature ;  some  exceptions  there 
are :  if  there  is  not  some  fire  in  youth,  we 
can  hardly  expect  a  proper  warmth  in  old 
age. 

But  the  great  and  good  Husbandman 
watches  over  what  his  own  hand  has  planted, 
and  carries  on  his  work  by  a  variety  of  dif- 
ferent, and  even  contrary  dispensations. 
While  their  mountain  stands  thus  strong, 
they  think  they  shall  never  be  moved ;  but 
at  length  they  find  a  change.  Sometimes 
it  comes  on  by  insensible  degrees.  That 
part  of  their  affection,  which  was  purely  natu- 
ral, will  abate,  of  course,  when  the  power  of 
novelty  ceases ;  they  will  begin,  in  some  in- 
stances, to  perceive  their  own  indiscretions ; 
and  an  endeavour  to  correct  the  excesses  of 
imprudent  zeal  will  oflen  draw  them  towards 
the  contrary  extreme  of  remissness :  the 
evils  of  their  hearts,  which,  though  over- 
powered, were  not  eradicated,  will  revive 
again :  the  enemy  will  watch  his  occasions 
to  meet  them  with  suitable  temptations ;  and 
as  it  is  the  Lord's  design  that  they  should 
experimentally  learn  and  feel  their  own 
weakness,  he  will,  in  some  instances,  be  per- 
mitted to  succeed.  When  guilt  is  thus 
brought  upon  the  conscience,  the  heart 
grows  hard,  the  hands  feeble,  and  the  knees 
weak  ;  then  confidence  is  shaken,  the  spirit 
of  prayer  interrupted,  the  armour  gone,  and 
thus  things  grow  worse  and  worse,  till  the 
liOrd  is  pleased  to  interpose ;  for  though  we 


can  fall  of  ourRclves,  wo  cannot  rine  without 
his  lielp.  Indeed,  every  hin,  in  i!h  (»wn  na- 
ture, has  a  tendency  toward.s  a  final  n|)Ohtury ; 
but  there  is  a  provision  in  the  covj-nant  of 
grace,  and  the  l^)rd,  in  his  own  time,  returns 
to  convince,  humble,  jwirdon,  comfort,  and 
renew  the  soul.  He  touches  the  rock  and 
the  wafers  flow.  By  repeated  experiments 
and  exercises  of  this  sort  (for  this  wisdom 
is  seldom  ac(|uired  by  one  or  a  few  lessons,) 
we  begin  at  length  to  learn  that  we  arc 
nothing,  have  nothing,  can  do  nothing  but 
sin.  And  thus  we  are  gradually  prei)ared 
to  live  more  out  of  ourselves,  and  to  derive 
all  our  sufficiency  of  every  kind  from  Jesus, 
the  fountain  of  grace.  We  learn  to  tread 
more  warily,  to  trust  less  to  our  own 
strength,  to  have  lower  thoughts  of  our- 
selves, and  higher  thoughts  of  him  ;  in  which 
two  last  particulars,  I  apprehend,  what  tiie 
scriptures  mean  by  a  growth  of  grace  does 
properly  consist.  Both  are  increasing  in  the 
lively  christian,  every  day  show  him  more 
of  his  ow'n  heart,  and  more  of  tiie  power,  suf^ 
ficiency,  compassion,  and  grace  of  his  ador- 
able Redeemer ;  but  neither  will  be  complete 
till  we  get  to  heaven. 

I  apprehend,  therefore,  that  though  we 
find  an  abatement  of  that  sensible  warmth 
of  affection  which  we  felt  at  first  setting  out; 
yet,  if  our  views  are  more  evangelical,  our 
judgment  more  ripened,  our  hearts  more  ha- 
bitually humbled  under  a  sense  of  inward 
depravity,  our  tempers  more  softened  into 
sympathy  and  tenderness ;  if  our  prevailing 
desires  are  spiritual,  and  we  practically  es- 
teem the  precepts,  ordinances,  and  people  of 
God ;  we  may  warrantably  conclude,  that  his 
good  work  of  grace  in  us  is,  upon  the  whole, 
on  the  increase. 

But  still  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  an  in- 
crease of  knowledge  and  experience  should 
be  so  generally  atitended  with  a  decline  of 
fervour.  If  it  was  not  for  what  has  passed 
in  my  own  heart,  I  should  be  ready  to  think 
it  impossible.  But  this  very  circumstance 
gives  me  a  still  more  emphatical  conviction 
of  my  owm  vileness  and  depravity.  The  want 
of  humiliation  humbles  me,  and  my  very  in- 
difference rouses  and  awakens  me  to  earnest- 
ness. There  are,  however,  seasons  of  re- 
freshment, ineffable  glances  of  light  and 
power  upon  the  soul,  which,  as  they  are  de- 
rived from  clearer  displays  of  divine  grace, 
if  not  so  tumultuous  as  the  first  joys,  are 
more  penetrating,  transforming,  and  animat- 
ino-.  A  glance  of  these,  when  compared 
with  our  sluggish  stupidity  when  they  are 
withheld,  weans  the  heart  from  this  wretched 
state  of  sin  and  temptation,  and  makes  the 
thoughts  of  death  and  eternity  desirable. 
Then  this  conflict  shall  cease:  I  shall  sui 
and  wander  no  more,  see  him  as  he  is,  and 
be  like  him  forever. 
If  the  question  is,  How  are  these  bright 


ao4 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[LET.  II. 


moments  to  bo  prolonged,  renewed,  or  re- 
trieved ?  We  are  directed  to  faith  and  dili- 
gence. A  careful  use  of  the  appointed  means 
of  g'race,  a  watchful  endeavour  to  avoid  the 
occa-sions  and  appearances  of  evil,  and  es- 
pecially assiduity  in  secret  prayer,  v.'ill  brin^f 
as  much  as  tlio  l^ord  sees  <rood  for  us.  He 
knows  best  why  we  are  not  to  be  trusted 
with  them  continually.  Here  we  are  to 
Malk  by  faith,  to  be  exercised  and  tried;  by 
and  by  we  shall  be  crowned,  and  the  desires 
he  has  g-iven  sliall  be  abundantly  satislied. — 
I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  II. 

April  — 176Q. 
MY  LORD, — I  shall  embrace  your  permis- 
sion to  fill  my  paper. — As  to  subject,  that 
which  has  been  a  frequent  theme  of  my  lieart 
of  late,  I  shall  venture  to  lay  before  your 
Lordship :  I  mean  the  remarkable  and  hum- 
bling difference  which  I  suppose  all  who 
know  themselves  may  observe,  between 
their  acquired  and  their  experimental  know- 
ledge, or,  in  other  words,  between  their  judg- 
ment and  their  practice.  To  hear  a  believer 
speak  his  apprehensions  of  the  evil  of  sin, 
the  vanity  of  the  world,  the  love  of  Christ, 
the  beauty  of  holiness,  or  the  importance  of 
eternity,  who  would  not  suppose  him  proof 
against  temptation !  To  hear  with  what 
strong  arguments  he  can  recommend  watch- 
fulness, prayer,  forbearance,  and  submission, 
when  he  is  teaching  or  advising  others,  who 
would  not  suppose  but  he  could  also  teach 
himselt^,  and  influence  his  own  conduct  ?  Yet, 
alas!  quam  dispar  sibi I  The  person  who 
rose  from  his  knees,  before  he  left  his  cham- 
ber, a  poor,  injigent,  fallible,  dependant  crea- 
ture, who  saw  and  acknowledged  that  he 
was  unworthy  to  breathe  the  air,  or  to  see 
the  light,  may  meet  with  many  occasions, 
before  the  day  is  closed,  to  discover  the  cor- 
ruptions of  his  heart,  and  to  show  how  weak 
and  faint  his  bc-ot  principles  and  clearest  con- 
victions are  in  tiieir  actual  exercise.  And 
in  this  view,  how  vain  is  man !  what  a  contra- 
diction is  a  believer  to  himself!  He  is  called 
a  believer  emphatically,  because  he  cordially 
assents  to  the  word  of  God  ;  but,  alas  !  how 
often  unworthy  of  the  name !  If  I  was  to  de- 
scribe him  from  the  scripture-character,  I 
should  say,  he  is  one  whose  heart  is  athirst 
for  God,  for  his  glory,  his  image,  his  presence ; 
his  affections  are  fixed  upon  an  unseen  Sa- 
viour; his  treasures,  and  consequently  his 
thoughts,  are  on  high,  beyond  the  bounds  of 
sense.  Having  experienced  much  forgive- 
ness, he  is  full  of  bowels  of  mercy  to  all 
around ;  and  having  been  often  deceived  by 
his  own  heart,  he  dares  trust  -t  no  more,  but 
lives  by  faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  for  wisdom, 


righteousness,  and  sanctification,  and  derives 
from  him  grace  tor  grace ;  sensible  that  with- 
out him  he  has  not  sufficiency  even  to  think 
a  good  thought  In  short,  he  is  dead  to  the 
world,  to  sin,  to  self,  but  alive  to  God,  and 
lively  in  his  service.  Prayer  is  his  breath, 
the  word  of  God  his  food,  and  the  ordinances 
more  precious  to  him  than  the  light  of  the 
sun.  Such  is  a  believer — in  his  judgment 
and  prevailing  desires. 

But  was  I  to  describe  him  from  experience, 
especially  at  some  times,  how  different  would 
the  picture  be  !  Though  he  knows  that  com- 
munion with  God  is  his  highest  privilege, 
he  too  seldom  finds  it  so;  on  the  contrary,  if 
duty,  conscience,  and  necessity,  did  not  com- 
pel, he  w'ould  leave  the  throne  of  grace  un- 
visited  from  day  to  day.  He  takes  up  the 
Bible,  conscious  that  it  is  the  fountain  of  life 
and  true  comfort ;  yet,  perhaps,  while  he  is 
making  the  reflection,  he  feels  a  secret  dis- 
taste, which  prompts  him  to  lay  it  down,  and 
give  his  preference  to  a  newspaper.  He 
needs  not  to  be  told  of  the  vanity  and  un- 
certainty of  all  beneath  the  sun ;  and  yet  is 
almost  as  much  elated  or  cast  down  by  a 
trifle,  as  those  who  have  their  portion  in  this 
world.  He'  believes  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  his  good,  and  that  the  most 
high  God  appoints,  adjusts,  and  over-rules  all 
his  concerns ;  yet  he  feels  the  risings  of  fear, 
anxiety,  and  displeasure,  as  though  the  con- 
trary was  true.  He  owns  himself  ignorant, 
and  liable  to  be  deceived  by  a  thousand  falla- 
cies; yet  is  eai^ily  betrayed  into  positive- 
ness  and  self-conceit.  He  feels  himself  an 
unprofitable,  unfaithful,  unthankful  servant, 
and  therefore  blushes  to  harbour  a  thought 
of  desiring  the  esteem  and  commendations 
of  men ;  yet  he  cannot  suppress  it.  Finally 
(for  I  must  observe  some  bounds,)  on  account 
of  these,  and  many  other  inconsistencies,  he 
is  struck  dumb  before  tlie  Lord,  stripped  of 
every  hope  and  plea,  but  what  is  provided  in 
the  "free  grace  of  God,  and  yet  his  heart  is 
continually  leaning  and  returning  to  a  cove- 
nant of  works. 

Two  questions  naturally  arise  from  such 
a  view  of  ourselves.  First,  How  can  these 
things  be,  or  why  are  they  permitted  ]  Since 
the  Lord  hates  sin,  teaches  his  people  to  hate 
it,  and  cry  against  it,  and  has  promised  to 
hear  their  prayers,  how  is  it  that  they  go 
tlius  burdened  ?  Surely  if  he  could  not  or 
would  not  over-rule  evil  for  good,  he  would 
not  permit  it  to  continue.  By  these  exer- 
cises he  teaches  us  more  truly  to  know-  and 
feel  the  utter  depravity  and  corruption  of  our 
whole  nature,  that  we  are  indeed  defiled  in 
every  part.  His  method  of  salvation  is  like- 
wise hereby  exceedingly  endeared  to  us ;  we 
seo.  that  it  is  and  must  be  of  grace,  wholly 
of  grace ;  and  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  his  perfect  righteousness,  is  and  must  be 
our  all  in  all.     His  power  likewise  in  main- 


LET.  III.] 


LETTKRS  TO  A  NORLKMAN. 


206 


tainin<j  his  own  work,  notwilhstandinff  our 
infirmitios,  tfMiiptutioiiH,  and  viwiuwa,  is 
hereby  displuyt'd  in  lh(*  eletirest  lijjht,  his 
utrenijth  is  nuuiifesttHl  in  our  wealiiie.><s. 
Sutan  likewise  is  more  reinarkiibly  tlisjij)- 
ponitod  unil  put  to  shanie,  when  lie  finds 
bounds  set  to  his  ra<je  anil  iK)lity,  beyond 
which  he  cannot  pass ;  and  ihat  those  in 
whom  he  finds  tcK>  nuich  to  work  upon,  and 
over  wiioin  he  so  ot\en  prevails  tor  a  season, 
escape  at  hist  out  of  his  liands.  lie  casts 
them  down,  but  they  are  raised  ai^ain ;  he 
wounds  them,  but  they  are  healed ;  he  ob- 
tains his  desire  to  sitt  them  as  wheat,  but 
the  prayer  of  their  jifreat  Advocate  prevails 
for  the  maintenance  of  their  faith.  Farther, 
by  what  believers  feel  in  themselves  they 
learn  by  degrees  iiow  to  warn,  pity,  and  bear 
with  others.  A  soft,  patient,  and  compassion- 
ate spirit,  and  a  readiness  and  skill  in  com- 
forting those  who  are  cast  down,  is  not  per- 
haps attainable  in  any  other  way.  And 
lastly,  I  believe  nothing  more  habitually  re- 
conciles a  child  of  God  to  the  thought  of  death, 
than  the  weansomcness  of  this  warl'are. 
Death  is  unwelcome  to  nature:  but  then, 
and  not  till  then,  the  conriict  will  cease. 
Then  we  shall  sin  no  more.  The  flesh,  with 
all  its  attendant  evils,  will  be  laid  in  the 
grave :  then  the  soul,  which  lias  been  par- 
laker  of  a  new  and  heavenly  birth,  shall  be 
freed  from  every  incumbrance,  and  stand 
perfect  in  the  Redeemer's  righteousness  be- 
fore God  in  glory. 

But  though  these  evils  cannot  be  wholly 
removed,  it  is  worth  while  to  enquire.  Se- 
condly, How  they  may  be  mitigated.  This 
we  are  encouraged  to  hope  for.  The  word 
of  God  directs  and  animates  to  a  growth  in 
grace.  And  though  we  can  do  notliing  spi- 
ritually of  ourselves,  yet  there  is  a  part  as- 
signed us.  We  cannot  conquer  the  obstacles 
in  our  way  by  our  own  strength,  yet  we  can 
give  way  to  them ;  and  if  we  do,  it  is  our 
sin,  and  will  be  our  sorrow.  The  disputes 
concerning  inherent  power  in  the  creature, 
have  been  carried  to  inconvenient  lengths ; 
for  my  own  part,  I  think  it  safest  to  use 
spiritual  language.  The  apostles  exhort  us, 
to  give  all  diligence,  to  resist  the  devil,  to 
purge  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  the 
flesh  and  spirit,  to  give  ourselves  to  reading, 
meditation,  and  prayer,  to  watch,  to  put  on 
the  whole  armour  of  God,  and  to  abstain 
from  all  appearance  of  evil.  Faithfulness 
to  light  received,  and  a  sincere  endeavour 
to  conform  to  the  means  prescribed  in  the 
word  of  God,  with  an  humble  application  to 
the  blood  of  sprinkling,  and  the  promised 
Spirit,  will  undoubtedly  be  answered  by  in- 
creasing measures  of  light,  faith,  strength, 
and  comfort :  and  we  shall  know,  if  we  fol- 
low on  to  know  the  Lord. 

I  need  not  tell  your  Lordship  that  I  am  an 
extempore  writer.    I  dropt  the  consideration 


of  whojn  I  wa.s  addressings  from  the  fint 
paragraph ;  but  1  now  n.'turn,  and  riulnhcribe 
my.self,  witli  the  greatest  deference,  6lc. 


ij:tter  III. 

April  — \770. 

MY  LORD, — I  have  a  desire  to  fill  the  pa- 
per, and  must  therefore  betake  myself  to  tho 
expedient  I  lately  mentioned.  (Jllorious 
things  are  s})oken  of  the  city  of  Got),  or  (as 
I  suppose)  the  state  of  glory,  in  Rev.  xxi. 
from  V(»rse  10  ad  fine m.  'J'he  description 
is  doubtless  mystical,  and,  perhaps,  nothing 
short  of  a  happy  experience  and  participation 
will  furnish  an  adequate  exposition.  One 
expression,  in  particular,  has,  I  believe,  puz- 
zled wiser  heads  than  mine  to  explain.  "The 
street  of  the  city  was  pure  gold,  as  it  were 
transparent  glass."  The  construction  like- 
wise in  the  Greek  is  difficult.  Some  render 
it  pure  a;old  trajisparcjit  as  glass:  this  is 
the  sense,  but  then  it  should  be  neuter,  ^'-^••'ii, 
to  agree  with  ze^T'o^.  if  our  reading  is  right, 
we  must  understand  it  either  of  gold  pure, 
bright,  and  perspicuous  as  the  finest  trans- 
parent glass^  (for  all  glass  is  not  transparent,) 
or  else,  as  two  distinct  comparisons,  splendid 
and  durable  as  the  purest  gold,  clear  and 
transparent  as  the  finest  glass.  In  that  happy 
world  tlie  beauties  and  advantages  wliicli 
here  are  divided  and  incompatible,  will  unite 
and  agree.  Our  glass  is  clear,  but  brittle; 
our  gold  is  shining  and  solid,  but  it  is  opaque, 
and  discovers  only  a  surface.  And  thus  it 
is  with  our  minds.  The  powers  of  the  ima- 
gination are  lively  and  extensive,  but  tran- 
sient and  uncertain.  The  powers  of  the  un- 
derstanding are  more  solid  and  regular,  but 
at  the  same  time  more  slow  and  limited,  and 
confined  to  the  outside  properties  of  the  few 
objects  around  us.  But  when  we  arrive 
within  the  vail,  the  perfections  of  the  glass 
and  the  gold  will  be  combined,  and  the  im- 
perfections of  each  will  entirely  cease.  Tlien 
we  shall  know  more  than  we  can  now  ima- 
gine. The  glass  will  be  all  gold.  And  then 
we  shall  apprehend  truth  in  its  relations 
and  consequences;  not  (as  at  present)  by 
that  tedious  and  fallible  process  which  we 
call  reasoning,  but  by  a  single  glance  of 
thought,  as  the  sight  pierces  in  an  instant 
through  the  largest  transparent  bodies.  The 
gold  will  be  all  glass. 

I  do  not  offer  this  as  the  sense  of  the  pas- 
sage, but  as  a  thought  which  once  occurred 
to  me  while  reading  it.  I  daily  groan  under 
a  desultory,  ungovernable  imagmation,  and  a 
palpable  darkness  of  understanding,  which 
oreatly  impede  me  in  my  attempts  to  con- 
template the  truths  of  God.  Perhaps  these 
complaints,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  are 
common  to  all  our  fallen  race,  and  exhibit 


206 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  rv. 


mournful  proofs  that  our  nature  is  essentially 
depraved.  The  jrrace  of  God  affords  some 
assistance  for  correctinsf  tlie  wildness  of  the 
fancy,  and  enlarging-  the  capacity  of  the 
mind :  yet  the  cure  at  present  is  but  pallia- 
tive; but  ere  long  it  shall  be  perfect,  and  our 
complaints  shall  cease  for  ever.  Now  it 
costs  us  much  pains  to  acquire  a  pittance  of 
solid  and  useful  knowledge ;  and  the  ideas 
we  have  collected  are  far  from  being  at  the 
disposal  of  judgment,  and,  like  men  in  a 
crowd,  are  perpetually  clashing  and  inter- 
fering with  each  other.  But  it  will  not  be 
so,  when  we  are  completely  freed  from  the 
effects  of  sin.  Confusion  and  darkness  will 
not  follow  us  into  the  world  where  light  and 
order  reign.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  our 
knowledge  will  be  perfect,  and  our  posses- 
sion of  it  uninterrupted  and  secure. 

Since  the  radical  powers  of  the  soul  are 
thus  enfeebled  and  disordered,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  the  best  of  men,  and  un- 
der their  highest  attainments,  have  found 
cause  to  make  the  acknowledgement  of  the 
apostle,  "  When  I  would  do  good,  evil  is 
present  with  me."  But,  blessed  be  God, 
though  we  must  feel  hourly  cause  for  shame 
and  humiliation  for  what  we  are  in  ourselves, 
we  have  cause  to  rejoice  continually  in 
Christ  Jesus,  who,  as  he  is  revealed  to  us 
under  the  various  names,  characters,  rela- 
tions, and  offices,  which  he  bears  in  the  scrip- 
tures, holds  out  to  our  faith  a  balm  for  every 
wound,  a  cordial  for  every  discouragement, 
and  a  sufficient  answer  to  every  objection 
which  sin  or  Satan  can  suggest  against  our 
peace.  If  we  are  guilty,  he  is  our  righteous- 
ness ;  if  we  are  sick,  he  is  our  infallible  phy- 
sician ;  if  we  are  weak,  helpless,  and  defence- 
less, he  is  the  compassionate  and  faithful 
shepherd,  who  has  taken  charge  of  us,  and 
will  not  suffer  any  thing  to  disappoint  our 
hopes,  or  to  separate  us  from  his  love.  He 
knows  our  frame,  he  remembers  that  we  are 
but  dust,  and  has  engaged  to  guide  us  by  his 
counsel,  support  us  by  his  power,  and  at 
length  to  receive  us  to  his  glory,  that  we 
may  be  with  him  for  ever. — I  am  with  the 
greatest  deference,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

February  —  1772. 
MY  LORD, — I  have  been  sitting,  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  with  my  pen  in  my  hand, 
and  my  finger  upon  my  upper  lip,  contriving 
how  1  should  begin  my  letter.  A  detail  of 
the  confused,  incoherent  thoughts  which 
have  successively  passed  through  my  mind, 
would  have  more  than  filled  the  sheet ;  but 
your  Lordship's  patience,  and  even  your 
charity  for  the  writer,  would  have  been  tried 
to  the  uttermost,  if  I  could  iiave  penned  them 


all  down.  At  length  my  suspense  remindea 
me  of  the  apostle's  words.  Gal.  v.  17,  "  Ye 
cannot  do  the  things  that  ye  would."  This 
is  an  humbling,  but  a  just  account  of  a  chris- 
tian's attainments  in  the  present  life,  and  is 
equally  applicable  to  the  strongest  and  to  the 
weakest.  The  weakest  need  not  say  less, 
the  strongest  will  hardly  venture  to  say 
more.  The  Lord  has  given  his  people  a  de- 
sire and  will  aiming  at  great  things:  with- 
out this  they  would  be  unworthy  the  name 
of  christians;  tut  they  cannot  do  as  they 
would.  Their  best  desires  are  weak  and  in- 
effectual, not  absolutely  so  (for  he  who  works 
in  them  to  will,  enables  them  in  a  measure 
to  do  likewise,)  but  in  comparison  with  the 
mark  at  which  they  aim.  So  that  while 
they  have  great  cause  to  be  thankful  for  the 
desire  he  has  given  them,  and  for  the  degree 
in  which  it  is  answered,  they  have  equal 
reason  to  be  ashamed  and  abased  under  a 
sense  of  their  continual  defects,  and  the  evil 
mixtures  which  taint  and  debase  their  best 
endeavours.  It  would  be  easy  to  make  out 
a  long  list  of  particulars  which  a  believer 
would  do  if  he  could,  but  in  which,  from  first 
to  last,  he  finds  a  mortifying  inability.  Per- 
mit me  to  mention  a  few,  which  I  need  not 
transcribe  from  books,  for  they  are  always 
present  to  my  mind. 

He  would  willingly  enjoy  God  in  prayer. 
He  knows  that  prayer  is  his  duly ;  but,  in 
his  judgment,  he  considers  it  likewise  as  his 
greatest  honour  and  privilege.  In  this  light 
he  can  recommend  it  to  others,  and  can  tell 
them  of  the  wonderful  condescension  of  the 
great  God,  who  humbles  himself  to  behold 
the  things  that  are  in  heaven,  that  he  should 
stoop  so  much  lower,  to  afford  his  gracious 
ear  to  the  supplications  of  sinful  worms  upon 
earth.  He  can  bid  them  expect  a  pleasure  in 
waiting  upon  the  Lord,  different  in  kind,  and 
greater  in  degree,  than  all  that  the  world  can 
afford.  By  prayer,  he  can  say,  You  have 
liberty  to  cast  all  your  cares  upon  him  that 
careth  for  you.  By  one  hour's  intunate  ac- 
cess to  the  throne  of  grace,  where  the  Lord 
causes  his  glory  to  pass  before  the  soul  that 
seeks  him,  you  may  acquire  more  true  spi- 
ritual knowledge  and  comfort,  than  by  a  day 
or  a  week's  converse  with  the  best  of  men,  or 
the  most  studious  perusal  of  many  folios :  and 
in  this  light  he  would  consider  it  and  inrprove 
it  for  himself  But,  alas !  how  seldom  can 
he  do  as  he  would  !  How  oflen  does  he  find 
this  privilege  a  mere  task,  which  he  would 
be  glad  of  a  just  excuse  to  omit !  and  the 
chief  pleasure  he  derives  from  the  perform- 
ance is  ta  think  that  his  task  is  finished  :  he 
has  been  drawing  near  to  God  with  his  lips, 
while  his  heart  was  far  from  him.  Surely 
this  is  not  doing  as  he  would,  when  (to  lx)r- 
row  the  expression  of  an  old  woman  here)  he 
is  dragged  before  God  like  a  slave,  and  comes 
away  like  a  thief. 


LET.  v.] 


LETTKRS  TO  A  NOnLEMAN. 


307 


The  liko  mny  bo  said  ofnvuliiin:  the  scrifv 
turos}.  lit'  bt'lievos  tluMii  to  Im'  tlio  word  of 
Gotl ;  ho  lulmirrs  tln»  wisdom  and  {|ruco  of 
the  doctrines,  tin*  luvinty  oftlu*  pnHTpts,  tho 
richiK'ssimd  siiitiiMtMU'ssot'tlji'  proiiiisi's;  and 
tliorotbrt',  with  David,  he  aoconnts  it  protrr- 
able  to  tlioiisjiuds  ot"  ir')ld  and  silver,  and 
Bwootor  than  hon(\v  or  tho  honeycond).  \o\ 
whilo  ho  thus  thinks  of  it,  and  th'siros  that  it 
may  dwell  in  him  richly,  and  he  his  medita- 
tion ni«,'ht  and  day,  he  cannot  do  as  he  would. 
It  will  require  some  resolution  to  jxTsist  in 
reading  a  jKirtion  of  it  every  day ;  and  even 
then  his  heart  is  often  less  enjicanred  than 
when  reading:  a  pamphlet.     Here  a<,nun  his 

frivileiro   frequently  dwindles  into  a  task. 
lis  appetite  is  vitiated,  so  that  lie  has  but 
little  relish  for  the  fcKxl  of  iiis  soul. 

lie  would  willintifly  haveabidinfr,  admirin<T 
thoun^hts  of  the  person  and  love  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Ciirist.  Glad  is  he,  indeed,  of  those 
occasions  which  recall  the  iSaviour  to  his 
mind ;  and  with  this  view,  notwithstand- 
ing all  discouran-cinents,  ho  perseveres  in 
nttempting  to  pray  and  read,  and  waits 
upon  ordinances.  Yet  he  cannot  do  as  he 
would.  Whatever  claims  he  may  have  to 
the  exercise  of  oratitude  and  sensibility  to- 
wards his  fellow-creatures,  he  must  confess 
himself  mournfully  ungrateful  and  insensible 
towards  his  best  Friend  and  Benefactor. 
Ah !  what  trifles  are  capable  of  shutting 
Him  out  of  our  thoughts,  of  whom  we  say, 
he  is  the  beloved  of  our  souls,  who  loved  us, 
and  gave  himself  for  us,  and  whom  we  have 
deliberately  chosen  as  our  chief  good  and 
portion.  What  can  make  us  amends  for  the 
loss  we  suffer  here"?  Yet  surely  if  we  could 
we  would  set  him  always  before  us;  his 
love  should  be  the  delightful  theme  of  our 
hearts, 

From  mom  to  noon,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve. 

But  though  we  aim  at  this  good,  evil  is  pre- 
sent with  us ;  we  find  we  are  renewed  but 
in  part,  and  have  still  cause  to  plead  the 
Ixjrd's  promise,  to  take  away  the  heart  of 
stone,  and  give  us  a  heart  of  flesh. 

He  would  willingly  acquiesce  in  all  the 
dispensations  of  divine  providence.  He  be- 
lieves that  all  events  are  under  the  direction 
of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness,  and  shall 
surely  issue  in  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good 
of  those  who  fear  him.  He  doubts  not  but 
the  hairs  of  his  head  are  all  numbered ; — that 
the  blessings  of  every  kind  which  he  possesses 
were  bestowed  upon  him,  and  are  preserved 
to  him,  by  the  bounty  and  special  favour  of 
the  Lord  whom  he  serves ; — that  afflictions 
spring  not  out  of  the  ground,  but  are  fruits 
and  tokens  of  divine  love,  no  less  than  his 
comforts ; — that  there  is  a  need-be,  whenever 
for  a  season  he  is  in  heaviness.  Of  these 
principles  he  can  no  more  doubt  than  of  what 
he  sees  with  his  eyes,  and  there  are  seasons 


when  he  ihinkH  they  will  prove  Hufficicnt  to 
reconcile  him  to  tho  KJiarpcHt  Iriiiln.  Hut 
often  when  h«»  aims  to  apply  them  in  an  hour 
of  present  distn-ss,  ho  caiujot  do  what  ho 
would.  He  feels  a  law  in  his  nuMnbers  war- 
ring against  the  law  in  his  mind  ;  so  that,  in 
defiance  ot*  the  chnirest  convictions,  soring 
as  though  lit?  perceived  not,  he  is  ready  to 
complain,  murmur,  and  desjHjnd.  Alas!  how 
vain  is  man  in  his  b<>st  estate?  !  How  much 
weakness  and  inconsistency,  oven  in  those 
whose  hearts  are  right  with  the  Lord  !  And 
what  reason  have  wo  to  confess  that  we  are 
unworthy,  unj)roniable  servants! 

It  were  easy  to  enlarge  in  this  way,  would 
paper  and  time  permit.  But,  blessed  be  God 
wo  are  not  under  the  law,  but  under  grace : 
and  even  these  distressinir  effects  of  the  rem- 
nants of  indwelling  sin  are  over-ruled  for 
good.  By  these  e.\j)cricnces  the  believer  is 
weaned  more  from  self,  and  taught  more 
highly  to  j)ri/.e  and  more  absolutely  to  rely  on 
him,  who  is  appointed  unto  us  of  God,  wis- 
dom, righteousness,  sanctification,  and  re- 
demption. The  more  vile  we  are  in  our  own 
eyes,  the  more  precious  he  will  be  to  us;  and 
a  deep,  repeated  sense  of  the  evil  of  our  hearts 
is  necessary  to  preclude  all  boasting,  and  to 
make  us  willing  to  give  the  whole  glory  of 
our  salvation  where  it  is  due.  Again,  a  sense 
of  these  evils  will,  when  hardly  any  thing  else 
can  do  it,  reconcile  us  to  the  thoughts  of 
death,  yea  make  us  desirous  to  depart  that 
we  may  sin  no  more,  since  we  find  depravity 
so  deep  rooted  in  our  nature,  that,  like  the 
leprous  house,  the  whole  fabric  must  be 
taken  down  before  we  can  be  freed  from  its 
defilement.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  we 
shall  be  able  to  do  the  thing  that  we  would  : 
when  we  see  Jesus  we  shall  be  transformed 
into  his  image,  and  have  done  with  sin  and 
sorrow  for  ever. — I  am  with  great  defer- 
ence, &-C. 


LETTER  V. 

March  — 1772. 

MY  LORD, — I  think  my  last  letter  turned 
upon  the  apostle's  thought.  Gal.  v.  17,  "  Ye 
cannot  do  the  things  that  ye  would."  In  the 
parallel  place,  Rom.  vii.  19,  there  is  an- 
other clause  subjoined,  "The  evil  which  I 
would  not,  that  I  do."  This  added  to  the 
former,  would  complete  the  dark  side  of  my 
experience.  Permit  me  to  tell  your  Lord- 
ship a  little  part  (for  some  things  must  not, 
cannot  be  told,)  not  of  what  I  have  read,  but 
of  what  I  have  felt,  in  illustration  of  thia 
passage. 

I  would  not  be  the  sport  and  prey  of  wild, 
vain,  foolish,  and  worse  imaginations,  but  this 
evil  is  present  with  me:  my  heart  is  like  & 
city  without  walls  or  gate.    Notliing  so  false, 


208 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  t. 


so  frivolous,  so  absurd,  fo  impossible,  or  so 
horriil,  but  it  can  obtain  access,  and  that  at 
any  time,  or  in  any  place:  neither  the  study, 
the  pulpit,  nor  even  the  Lord's  table,  exempt 
me  Irom  their  intrusion.  I  sometimes  com- 
pare my  words  to  the  treble  of  an  instru- 
ment which  my  thoughts  accompany  with  a 
kind  of  bass,  or  rather  anti-bass,  in  which 
every  rule  of  harmony  is  broken,  every  pos- 
sible combination  of  discord  and  confusion  is 
introduced,  utterly  inconsistent  with,  and 
contradictory  to,  the  intended  melody.  Ah  ! 
what  music  would  my  praying  and  preaching 
often  make  in  the  ear  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
if  he  listened  to  them  as  they  are  mine  only! 
By  men,  the  upper  part  only  (if  I  may  so 
speak)  is  heard ;  and  small  cause  there  is  for 
self-gratulation,  if  they  should  happen  to 
commend,  when  conscience  tells  me  they 
would  be  struck  with  astonishment  and  ab- 
horrence could  they  hear  the  whole. 

But  if  this  awlal  effect  of  heart  depravity 
cannot  be  wholly  avoided  in  the  present  state 
of  human  nature,  yet  at  least  I  would  not  al- 
low and  indulge  it ;  yet  this  I  find  I  do.  In 
defiance  of  my  best  judgment  and  best  wishes, 
I  find  something  within  me  w^hich  cherishes 
and  cleaves  to  those  evils,  from  which  I  ought 
to  start  and  flee,  as  I  should  if  a  toad  or  a  ser- 
pent was  put  in  my  foo J  or  in  my  bed.  Ah ! 
how  vile  must  the  heart,  at  least  my  hear*,  be, 
that  can  hold  a  parley  with  such  abominations 
when  I  so  well  know  their  nature  and  tlieir 
tendency.  Surely  he  who  finds  himself  ca- 
pable of  this,  may,  without  the  least  aflbcta- 
tion  of  humility  (however  fair  his  outward 
conduct  appears,)  subscribe  himself  less  than 
the  least  of  all  saints,  and  of  sinners  the  very 
chief. 

I  would  not  be  influenced  by  a  principle 
of  self  on  any  occasion  ;  yet  this  evil  I  often 
do.  I  see  the  baseness  and  absurdity  of  such 
conduct  as  clearly  as  I  see  the  light  of  the 
day.  I  do  not  affect  to  be  thought  ten  feet 
high,  and  I  know  that  a  desire  of  being 
thought  wise  or  good  is  equally  contrary  to 
reason  and  truth.  I  should  be  grieved  or 
angry  if  my  fellow-creatures  supposed  I  had 
such  a  desire ;  and  therefore  I  fear  the  very 
principle  of  self,  of  which  I  complain,  has  a 
considerable  share  in  prom.pting  my  desires 
to  conceal  it.  The  pride  of  others  oflen  of- 
fends me,  and  makes  me  studious  to  hide  my 
own,  because  their  good  opinion  of  me  de- 
pends much  upon  their  own  perceiving  it. 
But  the  Lord  knows  how  this  dead  fly  taints 
and  spoils  my  best  services,  and  makes  them 
no  better  than  specious  sins. 

I  would  not  indulge  vain  reasonings  con- 
corning  the  counsels,  ways,  and  providence 
of  God,  yet  I  am  prone  to  do  it.  That  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  will  do  right,  is  to  me 
as  evident  and  necessary  as  that  two  and  two 
make  four     I  believe  that  he  has  a  sovereign 


right  to  do  what  he  will  with  his  own,  and 
that  his  sovereignty  is  but  another  name  for 
the  unlimited  exercise  of  wisdom  and  good- 
ness. But  my  reasonings  are  often  such  as 
if  I  had  never  heard  of  these  principles,  or 
had  formerly  renounced  them.  I  feel  the 
workings  of  a  presumptuous  spirit,  that 
would  account  for  every  thing,  and  venture 
to  dispute  whatever  it  cannot  comprehend. 
What  an  evil  is  this,  for  a  potsherd  of  the 
earth  to  contend  with  its  maker  !  I  do  not 
act  thus  towards  my  fellow-creatures  ;  I  do 
not  find  fault  with  the  decisions  of  a  judge, 
or  the  dispositions  of  a  general,  because, 
though  I  know  they  are  fallible,  yet  I  sup- 
pose they  are  wiser  in  their  respective  de- 
partments than  myself.  But  I  am  oflen 
ready  to  take  this  liberty  when  it  is  most 
unreasonable  and  inexcusable. 

I  would  not  cleave  to  a  covenant  of  works. 
It  should  seem  from  the  foregoing  particu- 
lars, and  many  others  which  I  could  mention, 
that  I  have  reasons  enow  to  deter  me  from 
this  :  yet  even  this  I  do.  Not  but  that  I  say, 
and  I  hope  from  my  heart,  "Enter  not  into 
judgment  w4th  thy  servant,  O  Lord."  I  em- 
brace it  as  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of 
all  acceptation,  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into 
the  world  to  save  sinners ;  and  it  is  the  main 
pleasure  and  business  of  my  life  to  set  forth 
the  necessity  and  all-sufficiency  of  the  Me- 
diator between  God  and  man,  and  to  make 
mention  of  his  righteousness,  even  of  his 
only.  But  here,  as  in  every  thing  else,  I 
find  a  vast  difference  between  my  judgment 
and  my  experience.  I  am  invited  to  take 
the  water  of  life  freely,  yet  I  am  often  dis- 
couraged, because  I  have  nothing  wherewith 
to  pay  for  it.  If  I  am  at  times  favoured  with 
some  liberty  from  the  above  mentioned  evils, 
it  rather  gives  me  a  more  favourable  opinion 
of  myself  than  increase  my  admiration  of  the 
Lord's  goodness  to  so  unworthy  a  creature ; 
and  when  the  returning  tide  of  my  corrup- 
tions convince  me  that  I  am  still  the  same, 
an  unbelieving  legal  spirit  would  urge  me 
to  conclude  that  the  Lord  is  changed  ;  at  least, 
I  feel  a  w^eariness  of  being  beholden  to  him 
for  such  continued  multiplied  forgiveness, 
and  I  fear  that  some  part  of  my  striving 
against  sin,  and  my  desires  after  an  increase 
of  sanctification  arise  from  a  secret  wish  that 
I  might  not  be  so  absolutely  and  entirely  in- 
debted to  him. 

Tliis,  my  Lord,  is  only  a  faint  sketch  of  mj 
heart,  but  it  is  taken  from  the  life :  it  would 
require  a  volume  ratlicr  than  a  letter  to  fill 
up  the  outlines.  But  I  believe  you  wmII  not 
regret  that  I  chuse  to  say  no  more  upon  such 
a  subject.  But  though  my  disease  is  griev- 
ous, it  is  not  desperate ;  I  have  a  gracious 
and  infallible  Physician.  I  shall  not  die, 
but  live,  and  declare  the  works  of  the  Lord. 
— I  remain,  my  Lord,  &c. 


LET.   VI. 


ij«:tters  to  a  nobleman. 


200 


ij:tter  VI. 

April  —  1772. 

MY  i.oKi), — My  two  last  Irttors  tiiriH*<l 
\\]MM)  a  iiiounil'iil  siil>it'ft,  tlif  (Irpriivity  Dl'tln? 
hfurt,  wliu-li  iiMjM'dcs  us  wluMi  we  would  do 
good,  iiiul  iH)llut('s  our  k^st  intrndtMl  s<Tvi<'«>H 
with  evil.  W'v  Imvo  cause,  ujx)n  this  account, 
to  po  st)rtly  all  our  days;  yet  wo  need  not 
sorrow  us  thot^e  who  have  no  iiope.  'J'ho 
Lord  has  provided  his  people  relief  under 
those  complaints,  nnd  teaclies  us  to  draw 
iniprovenient  frouj  them.  If  the  evils  we 
feel  were  not  capuhlc  of  hein<r  over-ruled  fl)r 
gtxxl,  he  would  not  permit  them  to  remain 
m  us.  Tiiis  we  may  infer  from  his  hatred  to 
sin,  nnd  the  love  which  he  bears  to  his  people. 

As  to  the  remedy,  neither  our  state  nor 
liis  honour  arc  aliected  by  the  workin<is  of 
indwelling  sin,  in  the  hearts  of  those  whom 
he  hai>  tauj^^ht  to  wrestle,  strive,  and  mourn, 
on  account  of  what  they  feel.  Thou<Th  sin 
wars,  it  shall  not  reign :  and  though  it  breaks 
our  peace,  it  cannot  separate  from  his  love. 
Nor  is  it  inconsistent  with  his  holiness  and 
perfection,  to  manifest  his  favour  to  such 
poor  defiled  creatures,  or  to  admit  them  to 
communion  with  himself;  I'or  they  are  not 
considered  as  in  themselves,  but  as  one  with 
Jesus,  to  whom  they  have  fled  for  refuge, 
and  by  whom  they  live  a  life  of  faith.  They 
are  accepted  in  the  Beloved,  they  have  an 
Advocate  with  the  Father,  who  once  made 
an  atonement  for  their  sins,  and  ever  lives  to 
make  intercession  for  their  persons.  Though 
they  cannot  fulfil  the  law,  he  has  fulfilled 
it  for  them;  though  the  obedience  of  the 
members  is  defiled  and  imperfect,  the  obe- 
dience of  the  Head  is  spotless  and  complete ; 
and  though  there  is  much  evil  in  them,  there 
is  something  good,  the  fruit  of  his  own  gra- 
cious Spirit.  They  act  from  a  principle  of 
love,  they  aim  at  no  less  than  his  glory,  and 
their  habitual  desires  are  supremely  fixed 
upon  himself  There  is  a  difierence  in  kind 
between  the  feeblest  eflbrts  of  faith  in  a  real 
believer,  while  he  is  covered  with  shame  at 
the  thought  of  his  miscarriages,  and  the  high- 
est and  most  specious  attainments  of  those 
who  are  wise  in  their  own  eyes,  and  prudent 
in  their  own  sight.  Nor  shall  this  conflict 
remain  long,  or  the  enemy  finally  prevail 
over  them.  They  are  supported  by  almighty- 
power,  and  led  on  to  certain  victory.  They 
shall  not  always  be  as  they  are  now ;  yet  a 
little  while,  and  they  shall  be  freed  from  this 
vile  body,  which,  like  the  leprous  house,  is 
incurably  contaminated,  and  must  be  entirely 
taken  down.  Then  they  shall  see  Jesus  as 
he  is,  and  be  like  him,  and  with  him  forever. 

The  gracious  purposes  to  which  the  Lord 

makes  the  sense  and  feeling  of  our  depravity 

subservient,  are  manifold.     Hereby  his  own 

power,  wisdom,  faithfulness,  and   love,  are 

2D 


more   sipnnlly  displayed:    Iliw   power, — in 
maintaining  liiH  own  work   in  the  midst  of 
much  opposition,  like  a  spark  burning  in  tlio 
water,  or  a  hu.-h  unconsumed  in  tin-  llnnieM; 
Ilirt  wisdom, —  in  <lefruting  juid  controlling 
all  tlu'  (h>vices  which  Sutiin,  from  hin  know- 
ledge of  the  evil  of  our  nature,  is  ei.vouniged 
'  to  practi.se  against  us.     He  \\n»  overthrown 
1  many  a  lair  j)rofesHor,  and,  like  (ioliah,  iio 
'  cluillengeH  the  whole  urn.y  of  Israel ;  yet  he 
finds  ther(*  are  some  against  whom,  though 
j  he  thrust^s  sorely  he  cannot  prevail ;  notwith- 
;  standing  any  seeming  advantage  he  gains  at 
'  some  seasons,  they  are  still  delivered,  for  the 
I  liord  is  on  their  side.     The  unchangeahle- 
ness  of  the  Ix)rd's  love,  and  the  riches  of  his 
I  mercy,  are  likewi.se  more  illustrated  by  the 
I  multiplied    pardons    he    bestows   upon    his 
I  people,  than  if  they  needed  no  forgivenesa 
!  at  a'll. 

I      Hereby  the  Ixjrd  Jesus  Christ  is  more  en- 
I  deared  to  the  soul ;  all  boa.sting  is  eflectually 
excluded,  and  the  glory  of  a  full  and  free 
salvation    is  ascribed   to   him  alone.     If  a 
mariner  is  surprised  by  a  storm,  and  after 
one   night  spent   in  jeopardy,  is  presently 
,  brought  safe  into  port ;  though  he  may  re- 
joice in  his  deliverance,  it  will  not  aflcct  him 
so  sensibly,  a^  if  after  being  tempest-tossed 
for  a  long  season,  and  experiencing  a  great 
number  and  variety  of  hair-breadth  escapes, 
he  at  last  gains  the   desired    haven.     The 
'  righteous  are  said  to  be  scarcely  saved,  not 
;  with  respect  to  the  certainty  of  the  event, 
for  the  purpose  of  God  in  their  favour  cannot 
I  be  disappointed,  but  in  respect  of  their  own 
apprehensions,  and  the  great  difficulties  they 
are   brought   through.     But  when,  after   a 
long.experience  of  their  own  deceitful  hearts, 
after  repeated  proofs  of  their  weakness,  wil- 
fulness, ingratitude,  and  insensibility,  they 
,  find  that  none  of  these  things  can  separate 
:  them  from  the  love  of  God  in  Christ,  Jesus 
becomes  more  and  more  precious  to  their 
'  souls.     They  love  much,  because  much  has 
been  forgiven  them.     They  dare  not,  they 
will  not,  ascribe  any  thing  to  themselves, 
;  but  are  glad  to  acknowledge,  that  they  must 
,  have  perished,  if  possible,  a  thousand  times 
;  over,  if  Jesus  had  not   been  their  Saviour, 
their    shepherd,  and    their   shield.     When 
;  they  were  wandering,  he  brought  them  back; 
•  when  fallen,  he  raised  them  ;  when  wounded, 
;  he  healed  them  ;  when  fainting,  he  revived 
;  them.     By  him  out  of  weakne.-s  they  have 
;  been  made  strong  ;  he  has  t<iught  their  hands 
to  war,  and  covered  their  heads  in  the  day 
;  of  battle.     In  a  word,  some  of  the  clearest 
'  proofs  they  have  had  of  his  excellence,  have 
'  been   occasioned  by   the   mortifying   proofs 
■  they  have  had  of  their  own  vilenot^.     They 
i  would  not   have   known   axs   much  of  hira, 
I  if  they  had  not  known  so  much  of  them 
selves. 


210 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  vu. 


Farther,  a  spirit  of  humiliation,  which  is 
both  decus  et  tutamcn,  the  strength  and 
beauty  of  our  profession,  is  crreatly  promoted 
by  our  feelinj,'",  as  well  as  reading,  that  wlien 
we  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  us. 
A  broken  and  a  contrite  spirit  is  pleasing"  to 
the  Lord  ;  ho  has  promised  to  dwell  with 
those  who  have  it;  and  experience  shows, 
that  the  exercise  of  all  our  graces  is  in  pro- 
portion to  the  immbling  sense  we  have  of  the 
depravity  of  our  nature.  But  that  we  are 
so  totally  depraved,  is  a  truth  which  no  one 
ever  truly  learned  by  being  only  told  it.  In- 
deed, if  we  could  receive,  and  iiabitually 
maintain  a  right  judgment  of  ourselves,  by 
what  is  plainly  declared  in  the  scriptures,  it 
would  probably  save  us  many  a  mournful 
hour;  but  experience  is  the  Lord's  school, 
and  they  who  are  taught  by  him  usually 
learn,  that  they  have  no  wisdom  by  the  mis- 
takes they  make,  and  that  they  have  no 
strength  by  the  slips  and  falls  they  meet 
with.  Every  day  '-^  ^  forth  some  new 
corruption,  which  betof'^'^was  little  observed, 
or  at  least  discovers  ii  in  a  stronger  light 
than  before.  Thus,  by  degrees,  they  are 
weaned  from  leaning  to  any  supposed  wis- 
dom, power,  or  goodness  in  themselves;  they 
feel  the  truth  of  our  Lord's  words,  "  With- 
out me  ye  can  do  nothing  ;"  and  the  neces- 
sity of  crying,  with  David,  "  O  lead  me  and 
guide  me,  for  thy  name's  sake,"  It  is  chiefly 
by  this  frame  of  mind  that  one  christian  is 
differenced  from  another;  for  though  it  is  an 
inward  feeling,  it  has  very  observable  out- 
ward effects,  which  are  expressively  intimated, 
Ezek.  xvi.  63,  "  Thou  shalt  be  dumb,  and  not 
open  thy  mouth,  in  the  day  when  I  am  paci- 
fied towards  thee,  saith  the  Lord  God."  The 
knowledge  of  my  full  and  free  forgiveness, 
of  thy  innumerable  backslidings  and  trans- 
gressions, shall  make  thee  ashamed,  and 
silence  the  unruly  workings  of  thine  heart. 
Thou  shalt  open  thy  mouth  in  praise  ;  but 
thou  shalt  no  more  boast  in  thyself,  or  cen- 
sure others,  or  repine  at  my  dispensations. 
In  these  respects  we  are  exceedingly  prone 
to  speak  unadvisedly  with  our  lips.  But  a 
sense  of  great  unworthiness  and  much  for- 
giveness checks  these  evils.  Whoever  is 
truly  humbled  will  not  be  easily  angry,  will 
not  be  positive  and  rash,  will  be  compassion- 
ate and  tender  to  the  infirmities  of  his  fel- 
low-sinners, knowing,  that  if  there  be  a  dif- 
ference, it  is  grace  that  has  made  it,  and  tliat 
he  has  the  seeds  of  every  evil  in  his  own 
heart;  and,  under  all  trials  and  afflictions,  he 
will  look  to  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  and  lay 
his  mouth  in  the  dust,  acknowledging  that 
he  suffers  much  less  than  his  iniquities  have 
deserved.  Tiiese  are  some  of  the  advantages 
and  good  fruits  which  the  Lord  enables  us  to 
obtain  from  that  bitter  root  indwelling  sin. — 
1  am,  with  deference,  &,c. 


LETTER  VII. 


September  —  1772. 
MY  LORD, — Weak,  unskilful,  and  unfaith- 
ful as  I  am  in  practice,  the  Lord  has  been 
pleased  to  give  me  some  idea  of  what  a 
christian  ought  to  be,  and  of  what  is  actually 
attamable  in  the  present  life,  by  those  whom 
he  enables  earnestly  to  aspire  towards  the 
prize  of  their  high  calling.  They  who  are 
versed  in  mechanics  can,  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  combined  powers  of  a  complicated  ma- 
chine, make  an  exact  calculation  of  what  it 
is  able  to  perform,  and  what  resistance  it 
can  counteract:  but  who  can  compute  the 
possible  effects  of  that  combination  of  princi- 
ple and  motives  revealed  in  the  gospel,  upon  .jj 
a  heart  duly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  their  \ 
importance  and  glory  ?  When  I  was  lately 
at  Mr.  Cox's  museum,  while  I  was  fixmg 
my  attention  upon  some  curious  movements, 
imagining  that  I  saw  the  whole  of  the  ar- 
tist's design,  the  person  who  showed  it  touch- 
ed a  little  spring,  and  suddenly  a  thousand 
new  and  unexpected  motions  took  place,  and 
the  whole  peace  seemed  animated  from  the 
top  to  the  bottom.  I  should  have  formed  but 
a  very  imperfect  judgment  of  it,  had  I  seen  no 
more  than  what  I  saw  at  first.  I  thought  it  ,, 
might  in  some  measure  illustrate  the  vast 
difference  that  is  observable  amongst  profes- 
sors, even  amongst  those  who  are,  it  is  to  be  ■ 
hoped,  sincere.  There  are  persons,  who  ap- 
pear to  have  a  true  knowledge,  in  part,  of 
the  nature  of  gospel  religion,  but  seem  not  to 
be  apprized  of  its  properties,  in  the  :r  com- 
prehension and  extent  If  they  have  atta  iied  ' 
to  some  hope  of  their  acceptance,  if  they  find 
at  seasons  some  communion  with  God  in  the  - 
means  of  grace,  if  they  are  in  measure  de- 
livered from  the  prevailing  and  corrupt  cus- 
toms of  the  world,  they  seem  to  be  satisfied, 
as  if  they  were  possessed  of  all.  These  are 
indeed  great  things ;  sed  meliora  latent.  The 
profession  of  too  many,  whose  sincerity  cha- 
rity would  be  unwilling  to  impeach,  is  greatly 
blemished,  notwithstanding  their  hopes  and 
their  occasional  comforts,  by  the  breakings 
forth  of  unsanctified  tempers,  and  the  indul- 
gence of  vain  hopes,  anxious  cares,  and  sel- 
fish pursuits.  Far,  very  far,  am  I  from  that 
unscriptural  sentiment  of  sinless  perfection 
in  fallen  man.  To  those  who  have  a  due 
sense  of  the  spirituality  and  ground  of  the 
divine  precepts,  and  of  what  passes  in  their 
own  hearts,  there  will  never  be  wanting 
causes  of  humiliation  and  self-abasement  on 
the  account  of  sin;  yet  still  there  is  a  liberty 
and  privilege  attainable  by  the  gospel,  be- 
yond what  is  ordinarily  thought  of  Permit 
me  to  mention  two  or  three  particulars,  ia 
which  those  who  have  a  holy  ambition  of  as- 
piring to  them  shall  not  be  altogether  disap- 
pointed. 


urr.  VII.  I 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOIJIJOMAN. 


m 


A  ariijjlit  in  the  Ixml's  all-sufTicioncy,  to 
be  satistiotl  in  Itiiii  ns  our  pn's^Mit  ami  etmiiil 
jK)rtioii.  Tliis,  in  tlioscusi*  in  whirli  I  uiulrp" 
t^tnncl  it,  is  not  the  vWrvt  of  u  presont  wiirni 
iniMU',  but  of  a  (h'«'|)ly-ro<^)t('(l  and  abiilinj,' 
pruicipio,  tho  hiibitual  tvxorcisoof  which  is  to 
he  estiniatctl  by  the  couijKinitivf  indilViToncc 
witli  wliii'h  other  things  art*  rt'^nrded.  'I'lic 
soul  thus  prnicipk'd,  is  not  at  leisure  to  take 
or  to  seek  satisJhction  in  any  tiling'  but  what 
lias  a  kiu)wn  subserviency  to  this  Icnidinj,' taste. 
Either  the  Ix^rd  is  present,  and  then  he  is  to 
be  rejoiced  in ;  or  else  ho  is  absent,  and  then 
ne  is  to  be  sou^rht  and  waited  for.  They  are 
to  bo  pitied,  who,  if  tiioy  are  sometimes  hap- 
py in  the  l/>rd,  can  at  other  times  bo  happy 
without  him,  and  rejoice  in  broken  cisterns, 
when  their  spirits  are  at  u  distance  from  the 
fountain  of  living"  waters.  I  do  not  plead  for 
an  absolute  inditierence  to  temporal  bless- 
ino-s :  ho  f^ives  us  all  thin<TS  richly  to  enjoy, 
and  a  capacity  of  relishins]^  them  is  his  jjfift 
likewise ;  but  then  the  consideration  of  his 
love  in  bestowing  should  exceedingly  en- 
hance the  value,  and  a  regard  to  liis  will 
should  regulate  their  use.  Nor  can  they  all 
supply  the  want  of  that  which  we  can  only 
receive  immediately  from  himself.  This  prin- 
ciple likewise  moderates  that  inordinate  fear 
and  sorrow  to  which  we  are  liable  upon  the 
prospect  or  the  occurrence  of  great  trials,  for 
which  there  is  a  sure  support  and  resource 
provided  in  the  all-sufficiency  of  infinite 
goodness  and  grace.  What  a  privilege  is 
this,  to  possess  God  in  all  things  while  we 
have  them,  and  all  things  in  God  when  they 
are  taken  from  us ! 

An  acquiescence  in  the  Lord's  will,  founded 
in  a  persuasion  of  his  wisdom,  holiness,  sove- 
reignty, and  goodness.  This  is  one  of  the 
greatest  privileges  and  brigi^test  ornaments  of 
our  profession.  So  far  as  we  attain  to  this,  we 
are  secure  from  disappointment.  Our  own 
limited  views  and  short-sighted  purposes  and 
desires,  may  be,  and  will  be  often  over-ruled, 
but  then  our  main  and  leading  desire,  that  the 
will  of  the  Lord  may  be  done,  must  be  accom- 
plished. How  highly  does  it  become  us,  both 
as  creatures  and  as  sinners,  to  submit  to  the 
appointments  of  our  Maker!  and  how  neces- 
Eary  is  it  to  our  peace  I  This  great  attainment 
is  too  often  unthought  of,  and  overlooked; 
we  are  prone  to  fix  our  attention  upon  the 
second  causes  and  immediate  instruments  of 
events;  forgetting  that  whatever  befals  us  is 
according  to  his  purpose,  and  therefore  must 
be  right  and  seasonable  in  itself,  and  shall, 
in  the  issue,  be  productive  of  good.  From 
hence  arise  impatience,  resentment,  and  se- 
cret repinings,  which  are  not  only  sinful  but 
tormenting;  whereas,  if  all  things  are  in  his 
hand ;  if  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are  num- 
bered ;  if  every  event,  great  and  small,  is 
under  the  direction  of  his  providence  and 
purpose;  and,  ii'  he  has  a  wise,  holy,  and 


gracious  end  in  view,  (o  whi«h  every  lliin;^ 
that  huppt'iiH  is  ».ubordinute  and  mlwi  rvieril; 
— then  we  Imvt?  nothing  to  do  but,  with  |)a- 
tience  and  hiMuMity,  to  U»lIow  us  he  leads, 
and  cheerfully  to  exjM'cl  a  happy  iKsue.  Tho 
path  of  j>resent  duty  is  marked  (»ut;  an<l  tho 
concerns  of  the  next  and  every  succeeding 
hour  are  in  his  hands.  How  hajjpy  are  they 
who  can  resign  all  to  him,  s<'e  his  hand  in 
every  dispensation,  and  believe  that  he 
chooses  better  for  them  than  they  possibly 
could  for  themselves ! 

A  single  eye  to  his  glory,  as  the  ultimate 
scope  of  all  our  undertakings.  Tho  Lord 
can  design  nothing  short  of  his  own  glory ; 
nor  should  we.  Tho  constraining  love  of 
Christ  has  a  direct  and  marvellous  tendency, 
in  proportion  to  the  measure  of  faith,  to  mor- 
tify the  corrupt  principle,  self,  which,  for  a 
season,  is  the  grand  spring  of  our  conduct, 
and  by  which  we  are  too  nnich  biassed  after 
we  know  the  l>ord.  But  as  grace  prevails, 
self  is  renounced.  We  feel  that  we  are  not 
our  own,  that  we  are  bought  with  a  price; 
and  that  it  is  our  duty,  our  honour,  and  our 
happiness,  to  be  the  servants  of  God,  and  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  To  devote  soul  and 
body,  every  talent,  power,  and  faculty  to  the 
service  of  his  cause  and  will;  to  lot  our  light 
shine  (in  our  several  situations)  to  the  praise 
of  his  grace;  to  place  our  highest  joy  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  adorable  perfections ; 
to  rejoice  even  in  tribulations  and  distresses, 
in  reproaches  and  infirmities,  if  thereby  the 
power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  us,  and  be 
magnified  in  us ;  to  be  content,  yea,  glad  to 
be  nothing,  that  he  may  be  all  in  all ;  to  obey 
him,  in  opposition  to  the  threats  or  solicita- 
tions of  men ;  to  trust  him,  though  all  out- 
ward appearances  seem  against  us;  to  re- 
joice in  him,  though  we  should  (as  will  sooner 
or  later  be  the  case)  have  nothing  else  to  re- 
joice in ;  to  live  above  the  world,  and  to  have 
our  conversation  in  heaven,  to  be  like  the 
angels,  finding  our  own  pleasure  in  perform- 
ing his.  This,  my  lord,  is  the  prize,  the 
mark  of  our  high  calling,  to  which  we  are 
encouraged,  with  a  holy  ambition,  continually 
to  aspire.  It  is  true,  we  shall  still  fall  short; 
we  shall  find,  that  when  we  would  do  good, 
evil  will  be  present  with  us.  But  the  attempt 
is  glorious,  and  shall  not  be  wholly  in  vain. 
He  that  gives  us  thus  to  will,  will  enable  us 
to  perform  with  growing  success,  and  teach 
us  to  profit  even  by  our  mistakes  and  imper- 
fections. 

O  blessed  man !  that  thus  fears  the  Lord, 
that  delights  in  his  word,  and  derives  his 
principles,  motives,  maxims,  and  consola- 
tions, from  that  unfailing  source  of  light  and 
strength  ?  He  shall  be  Hke  a  tree  planted  by 
the  rivers  of  water,  whose  leaf  is  always 
green,  and  fruit  abundant.  The  wisdom 
that  is  above  shall  direct  his  plans,  inspire 
his  counsels;  and  the  power  of  God  shall 


212 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  vni. 


guard  him  on  every  side,  and  prepare  his 
way  through  every  difficulty;  hp  shall  see 
mountains  sink  into  plains,  and  streams 
Bprino^  up  in  the  dry  wiKloriiess.  The  Lord's 
enemies  will  be  his;  and  they  may  be  per- 
mitted to  fitrht  airainst  him,  but  they  shall 
not  prevail,  for  the  Lord  is  with  him  to  de- 
liver him.  Tiie  conduct  of  such  a  one, 
tliouixh  in  a  narrow  and  retired  sphere  of  life, 
is  of  more  real  excellence  and  importance, 
than  the  most  splendid  actions  of  king's  and 
conquerors,  which  fill  the  annals  of  history, 
Prov.  xvi.  32.  And  if  the  God  whom  he 
serves  is  plea.sed  to  place  him  in  a  more  pub- 
lic light,  his  labours  and  cares  will  be  amply 
compensated,  by  the  superior  opportunities 
afforded  him  of  manifesting"  the  power  and 
reality  of  true  religion,  and  promoting  the 
good  of  mankind. 

I  hope  I  may  say,  that  I  desire  to  be  thus 
entirely  given  up  to  the  Lord ;  I  am  sure,  I 
must  say,  that  what  I  have  written  is  far 
from  bemg  my  actual  experience.  Alas  !  I 
might  be  condemned  out  of  my  own  mouth, 
were  the  Lord  strict  to  mark  what  is  amiss. 
But,  O  the  comfort !  we  are  not  under  the 
law,  but  under  grace.  The  gospel  is  a  dis- 
pensation for  sinners,  and  we  have  an  advo- 
cate with  the  Father.  There  is  the  unshaken 
ground  of  hope ;  a  reconciled  Father,  a  pre- 
vailing advocate,  a  powerful  shepherd,  a 
compassionate  friend,  a  Saviour,  who  is  able 
and  willing  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  He 
knows  our  frame ;  he  remembers  that  we 
are  but  dust :  and  he  has  opened  for  us  a  new 
and  blood-besprinkled  way  of  access  to  the 
tiirone  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy, 
and  find  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need. 
— I  r.m,  &c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

April  — 1772. 
MY  LORD, — For  five  or  six  weeks  past,  I 
have  been  a  good  deal  indisposed.  The 
ground  of  my  complaint  was  a  cold,  attended 
with  a  slight  fever,  and  for  some  time  with  a 
cough,  which  made  me  feel  some  inconveni- 
ence in  preaching.  To  this  succeeded  a 
deafness,  so  great  as  to  cut  me  off  from  con- 
versation ;  for  I  could  not  hear  the  sound  of 
a  voice,  unless  it  was  spoken  loud  in  my  ear. 
But  the  Lord  has  mercifully  removed  the 
fever  and  cou2"h,  cpened  my  ears,  and  I  am 
now  nearly  as  well  as  usual.  I  had  cause 
to  be  thankful,  especially  for  two  thing-s  un- 
der tills  dispensation :  First,  that  I  was  en- 
abled, though  sometimes  with  a  little  difficul- 
ty, to  go  on  with  my  public  work.  It  is  a 
singular  favour  I  have  to  acknowledge,  that 
for  the  space  of  almost  nine  years,  since  I 
have  been  in  the  ministry,  our  sabbath  and 
weekly  opportunities  have  not  been  once 


I  suspended ;  whereas  1  have  seen  many  of 
the  Lord's  servants  Jaid  by  for  a  considerable 
spice  within  that  time.  My  other  great 
mercy  was,  that  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  pre- 
serve me  in  a  peaceful  resigned  frame;  so 
that,  when  I  was  deaf,  and  could  not  be  cer- 
tain that  I  should  recover  my  hearing  any 
more,  I  was  in  general  as  cheerful  and  easy 
as  at  other  times.  This  was  the  effect  of  his 
goodness :  for  though  I  know  enough  of  his 
sovereignty,  wisdom,  and  faithfulness,  of  his 
right  to  do  what  he  pleases,  and  the  certainty 
that  he  does  all  things  well,  to  furnish  me 
with  arguments  enough  to  prove  that  sub- 
mission to  his  will  is  our  absolute  duty ;  yet 
I  am  sensible,  that  when  the  trial  actually 
comes,  notwithstanding  all  the  advice  I  may 
have  offered  to  others,  I  should  myself  toss 
like  a  wild  bull  in  a  net;  rebel  and  repine; 
forget  that  I  am  a  sinner,  and  that  he  is  a 
sovereign:  this,  I  say,  would  always  and  in- 
variably be  the  case,  unless  he  was  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  fulfil  his  word,  that 
strength  shall  be  according  to  the  day.  I 
hope  my  deafness  has  been  instructive  to  me. 
The  exercise  of  our  senses  is  so  easily  and 
constantly  performed,  that  it  seems  a  thing 
of  course ;  but  I  was  then  reminded  how  pre- 
carious the  tenure  is  by  which  we  hold  those 
blessings  which  seem  most  our  own,  and 
which  are  most  immediately  necessary  to 
the  comfortable  enjoyment  of  life.  Outward 
senses,  mental  faculties,  health  of  body,  and 
peace  of  mind,  are  extremely  valuable  ;  but 
the  continuance  of  them  for  a  single  moment 
depends  upon  him,  who,  if  he  opens,  none  can 
shut,  and  when  he  shuts,  none  can  open.  A 
minute  is  more  than  sufficient  to  deprive  us 
of  what  we  hold  most  dear,  or  to  prevent  us 
from  deriving  the  least  comfort  from  it,  if  ii 
is  not  taken  awa\'.  I  am  not  presuming  to 
give  your  Lor(^hip  information  ;  but  only 
mentioning  the  thoughts  that  were  much 
upon  my  mind  while  I  was  incapable  of  con- 
versation. These  are  indeed  plain  and  ob- 
vious truths,  which  I  have  long  acknow- 
ledged as  indisputable ;  but  I  have  reason  tc 
be  thankful  wlien  the  Lord  mipresses  them 
with  fresh  power  upon  my  heart,  even  though 
he  sees  fit  to  do  it  through  the  medium  of  af- 
flictions. I  have  seen,  of  late,  something  of 
the  weight  and  importance  of  that  admoni- 
tion, Jer.  Lx.  23,  24 ;  a  passage  which, 
though  addressed  to  the  wise,  the  mighty, 
and  the  rich,  is  of  universal  application ;  fo^ 
self,  unless  corrupted  and  mortified  by  grace 
will  find  something  whereof  to  glory,  in  the 
meanest  characters  and  the  lowest  situations. 
And  indeed,  when  things  come  to  be  weighed 
in  the  lialance  of  the  sanctuary,  the  lunatics 
in  bedlam,  some  of  whom  glory  in  their  straw 
or  their  chains,  as  marks  of  splendour  or  en- 
siirns  of  royalty,  have  as  much  reason  on 
their  side  as  any  persons  upon  earth  who 
glory   in   themselves.      This    alone  is  thtt 


I 


nrr.  tx. 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


213 


prop;'r  ijround  of  ^lory  niu\  joy,  if  wo  know 
liio  l/)rJ.  Thon  all  is  sufi*  at  |)ri's«Mit,  nml 
all  will  bo  happy  lor  ovor.  Thon,  whatovor 
cliiui.jos  may  alfool  our  toiiijH)ral  coiioorii- 
inents,  our  best  interosts  uiul  ho])oa  aro 
Boourivl  beyond  tho  roach  of  chan^'o;  and 
wh  itover  wo  may  los'.>  or  suffer  during*"  this 
little  span  of  time,  will  bo  abundantly  com- 
pensated in  that  «r|orious  state  of  eternity, 
which  is  just  at  hand. — 1  am,  «S:.c. 


LETTER  LX. 

• 

December  — 1772. 

MY  LORD, — I  lately  employed  some  of  my 
leisure  hours  (wiiich,  when  I  am  not  indolent, 
aro  but  few)  in  reading  the  Memoirs  of  the 
duke  of  Sully,  which  occasionally  came  in 
my  way.  It  aiTordcd  me  matter  for  variety 
of  reflections.  I  pity  the  duko  of  Sully, 
whose  attachment  to  the  name  of  Protestant 
seems  to  have  been  little  more  than  a  point 
of  honour,  who  drew  all  his  resources  from 
himself,  and  whose  chief  aim  seems  to  have 
been,  to  approve  himself  faithful  to  an  earth- 
ly master.  He  acted  as  well  as  could  be  ex- 
pected from  natural  principles ;  and  the  Lord, 
who  employed  him  as  an  instrument  in  his 
providence,  rewarded  his  fidelity  with  suc- 
cess, honour,  and  riches:  a  reward  which, 
thou^^h  in  itself  a  poor  one,  is  suited  to  the 
desires  of  men  who  place  their  happiness  in 
worldly  thing-s,  and  is  so  far  a  compensation 
of  their  services.  It  is  given  to  your  Lord- 
ship to  act  from  nobler  principles,  and  witli 
more  enlarged  views.  You  serve  a  Master, 
of  whose  flivour,  protection,  and  assistance 
you  cannot  be  deprived,  who  will  not  over- 
look or  misconstrue  the  smallest  services 
you  attempt  for  him,  who  will  listen  to  no 
insinuations  against  you,  who  is  always  near, 
to  comfort,  direct,  and  strengthen  you,  and 
who  is  preparing  for  you  such  honours  and 
blessings  as  he  only  can  give,  an  inheritance 
(the  reverse  of  all  earthly  good)  zc-ix^rzv,  x.:<. 
a^.xvTsv,  xa.  *u:to.-.rr3v*  Thus  aulmatcd,  and 
thus  supported,  assisted  likewise  by  the 
prayers  of  thousands,  may  we  not  warranta- 
bly  hope  that  your  Lordship  will  be  an  in- 
strument of  great  good,  and  that  both  churcii 
and  state  will  be  benefited  by  your  example, 
counsels,  and  care. 

In  another  view,  the  duke  of  Sully's  liis- 
tory  exhibits  a  comment  upon  the  psalmist's 
words,  "  Surely  man  in  his  best  estate  is 
altogether  vanity,"  View  him  in  one  light, 
he  seems  to  have  possessed  all  that  the  most 
aspiring  mind  could  aim  at — the  favour  and 
confidence  of  his  prince,  accumulated  wealth, 
great  honours,  and  such  powers  by  his  offices 
and  influence  with  the  king-,  that  he  could 
almost  do  what  he  pleased.     Yet  he  had  so 


*Iacon-uplible,  unJetiieJ,  unfddiag. 


mjioh  to  Hiifltjr  from  the  fatiiftioa  and  difTirul- 
tios  of  his  station,  and  tho  cabals  anil  malice 
of  his  oniMnie.s,  that,  in  tho  midst  of  all  hi« 
grandeur,  a  disp:i.ssionato  mind  would  nillnT 
pity  than  envy  him.  And  how  i'udd«Mdy 
won?  hissohomos  broken  by  tho  death  of  tho 
king!  Thon  ho  lost  iii.s  friend,  his  protec- 
tor, his  influence.  Tlu;  roniaindor  <if  hia 
days  wen;  embittered  by  inmy  in(|uiotude8 
\U}  lived  indeod,  if  that  could  atllinl  any  con 
solation,  in  mucli  state  and  pageantry  alter 
wards;  but  aller  having  toiled  through  more 
than  Iburscore  years,  (lied  at  last  almost  of  a 
broken  heart,  from  domestic  uneasiness.  And 
is  this  all  that  the  world  can  do  tor  those  who 
arc  accounted  most  successful !     Alas ! 

Too  low  they  build  who  buil;l  hilow  tho  skies. 

And  what  a  picture  of  the  instability  of 
human  things  have  we  in  his  master,  Henry  ! 
Admired,  beloved,  dreaded,  fidl  of  vast  de- 
signs, fondly  supposing  himself  born  to  be  the 
arbiter  of  Europe,  in  an  awful  moment,  and  in 
the  midst  of  his  friends,  suddenly  struck  from 
the  height  of  his  grandeur,  and  snatched  into 
the  invisible,  unchangeable  world.  In  that 
moment  all  his  thoughts  perished. 

How  unspeakably  awful  such  a  transition  ! 
How  remarkable  were  his  own  forebodings  of 
the  approaching  hour !  O  Lord,  how  dost 
thou  pour  contempt  upon  princes,  and  teach 
us  that  the  great  and  the  mean  are  equally 
in  thy  hands,  and  at  thy  disposal,  as  clay  in 
the  hands  of  the  potter  !  Poor  king  !  while 
he  expected  obedience  to  his  own  commands, 
he  lived  in  habitual  defiance  of  the  commands 
of  God.  Men  may  respect  his  memory,  for 
his  sincerity,  benevolence,  and  other  amiable 
qualities ;  but,  besides  that  he  was  engrossed 
by  a  round  of  sensual  pleasure,  (when  busi- 
ness of  state  did  not  interfere,)  his  life  was 
stained  with  adultery.  Happy,  if,  in  the 
hours  he  spent  in  retirement,  wlien  the  pre- 
intimation  of  his  death  hung  heavy  upon  his 
mind,  the  Lord  humbled  and  softened  his 
heart,  and  gave  him  repentance  unto  life!  I 
wish  the  history  afibrded  a  proof  of  this. 
However,  in  his  death,  we  see  an  alTecting 
proof,  that  no  human  dignity  or  power  can 
ward  ofi'the  stroke  of  the  Almighty,  who  by 
such  sudden  and  unexpected  dispensations 
often  shows  himself  terrible  to  the  princes 
and  great  men  of  the  earth.  O  !  that  they 
could  see  his  hand,  and  wisely  consider  his 
doing  in  them  ! 

But  ha{)py  is  the  man  who  fears  the  Lord, 
and  delights  in  his  commandments :  who  sets 
God  always  before  him,  and  acts  under  the 
constraining  influence  of  redeeming  love.  He 
is  the  real  friend,  and  the  best  champion  of 
his  country,  who  makes  not  the  vague  no- 
tions of  human  wisdom  and  honour,  but  the 
precepts  and  example  of  the  blessed  Jesus, 
the  model  and  the  motive  of  his  conduct. 
He  inculcates,  as  occasion  oflfers,  tlic  great 


214 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


LET.  X. 


truths  of  religion  in  his  conversation,  and 
demonstrates  them  by  liis  practice;  yet  the 
best  part  of  his  life  is  known  only  to  God 
and  himself  His  time  is  divided  between 
servina^  liis  country  in  public,  and  wrestling 
for  it  in  private.  Nor  siiall  his  labours  or 
his  prayers  bo  lost.  Either  lie  shall  have 
the  desire  of  liis  heart,  and  shall  see  the  re- 
ligion and  the  liberty  he  so  highly  values 
transmitted  to  posterity  ;  or,  if  he  should  live 
when  wrath  is  decreed,  and  there  is  no  re- 
medy, the  promise  and  the  providence  of 
God  shall  seal  him  as  the  peculiar  charge  of 
angels,  in  tlie  midst  of  public  calamity.  And 
when  all  things  are  involved  in  confusion, 
when  the  hearts  of  the  wicked  shall  shake 
like  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  he  siiall  be  kept 
in  perfect  peace,  trusting  in  the  Lord. — I 
am,  with  the  greatest  deference,  &,c. 


LETTER  X. 

March  — 1712. 

MY  LORD, — Usually  for  some  days  before 
I  purpose  writing  to  your  Lordship  my 
thoughts  are  upon  the  stretch  for  a  subject ; 
1  do  not  mean  all  day  long,  but  it  is  so  more  or 
less :  but  I  might  as  well  spare  my  inquiries, 
I  can  come  to  no  determination,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  begin  to  write  at  an  absolute  un- 
certainty how  I  am  to  proceed.  Since  I 
cannot  premeditate,  my  heart  prays  that  it 
may  be  given  me  in  the  same  hour  what  I 
shall  offer.  A  simple  dependence  upon  the 
teaching  and  influence  of  the  good  Spirit  of 
God,  so  as  not  to  supersede  the  use  of  ap- 
pointed means,  would,  if  it  could  be  uni- 
formly maintained,  make  every  part  of  duty 
easy  and  successful.  It  would  free  us  from 
much  solicitude,  and  prevent  many  mistakes. 
Methinks  I  have  a  subject  in  view  already, 
a  subject  of  great  importance  to  myself,  and 
which,  perhaps,  will  not  be  displeasing  to  your 
Lordship,  viz,  how  to  walk  with  God  in  the 
daily  occurrences  of  life,  so  as  to  do  every 
thing  for  his  sake  and  by  his  strength. 

When  we  are  justified  by  faith,  and  ac- 
cepted in  the  Beloved,  we  become  heirs  of 
everlasting  life :  but  we  cannot  know  the 
full  value  of  our  privileges  till  we  enter  upon 
the  state  of  glory.  For  this,  most  who  are 
converted,  have  to  wait  some  time  after  they 
are  partakers  of  grace.  Though  the  Lord 
loves  them,  hates  sin,  and  teaches  them  to 
hate  it,  he  appoints  them  to  remain  awhile 
in  a  sinful  world,  and  to  groan  under  the 
burden  of  a  depraved  nature.  He  could  put 
them  in  immediate  possession  of  the  heaven 
for  w^iich  he  has  given  them  a  mcetness,  but 
he  does  not.  He  lias  a  service  for  them  here, 
an  honour  which  is  worth  all  they  can  suffer, 
and  for  which  eternity  will  not  afford  an  op- 
portunity, namely  to  be  instruments  of  pro- 
moting his    designs,   and    manifesting   his 


grace  in  the  world.     Strictly  speaking,  this 
is  the  whole  of  our  business  here,  the  cnly 
reason  why  life  is  prolonged,  or  for  which  it 
is  truly  desirable,  that  we  may  fill  up  our 
connexions  and  situations,  improve  our  com- 
forts and  our  crosses,  in  such  a  manner  as 
that  God  may  be  glorified  hi  us  and  by  us. 
As  he  is  a  bountiful  Master  and  a  kind  Fa- 
ther, he  is  pleased  to  aflbrd  a  variety  of  tem- 
poral blessings,  w  hich  sweeten  our  service, 
and  as  coming  from  his  hand  are  very  valu- 
able, but  are  by  no  means  w(  rth  living  for, 
considered  in  themselves,  as  they  can  nei- 
ther satisfy  our  desires,  nor  preserve  us  fr(Mn 
trouble  or  support  us  under  it.     That  lignt 
of  God's  countenance  which  can  pervade  the 
walls  and  dissipate  the  gloom  of  a  dungeon, 
is  unspeakably  preferable  to  all  that  can  be 
enjoyed  in  a  palace  without  it.    The  true  end 
of  life  is,  to  live  not  to  ourselves,  but  to  him 
who  died  for  us;  and  while  we  devote  our- 
selves to  his  service  upon  earth,  to  rejoice  in 
the  prospect  of  being  happy  with  him  for  ever 
in  heaven.  These  things  are  generally  known 
and  acknowledged  by  professors;  but  they  are 
a  favoured  few  who  act  consistently  with  their 
avowed  principles ;  who  honestly,  diligently, 
and  without  reserve,  endeavour  to  make  the 
most  of  their  talents  and  strength  in  promo- 
ting the  Lord's  service,  and  allow  themselves 
in  no  views  or  designs,  but  what  are  plainly 
subordinate  and  subservient  to  it.     Yea,  I  be* 
lieve,  the  best  of  the  Lord's  servants  see  cause 
enough  to  confess,  that  tliey  are  not  only  un- 
profitable in  comparison  of  w'hat  they  wish  to 
be,  but  in  many  instances  unfaithful  likewise. 
They  find  so  many  snares,  hindrances,  and 
temptations,  arising  from  without,  and  so  much 
embarrassment  from  sin  which  dwells  within, 
that  they  have  more  cause  for  humiliation  than 
self-complacence,  when  they  seem  most  earn- 
est and  most  useful.     However,  we  have  no 
scriptural  evidence  that  we  serve  the  Lord  at 
all,  any  farther  than  w^e  find  an  habitual  desire 
and  aim  to  serve  him  wholly.    He  is  gracious 
to  our  imperfections  and  weakness ;  yet  he  re- 
quires all  the  heart,  and  will  not  be  served  by- 
halves,  nor  accept  what  is  performed  by  a  di- 
vided spirit.     I  lately  met  with  some  profane 
scoffs  of  Voltaire  upon  the  sentiment  of  doing 
all  to  the  Glory  of  God  (such  as  might  be  ex- 
pected from  such  a  man ;)  however,  this  is 
the  true  alchymy  which  turns  every  thing  to 
gold,  and  ennobles  the  common  actions  of 
life  into  acts  of  religion,  1  Cor.  x.  3L     Nor 
is  there  a  grain  of  real  goodness  in  the  most 
specious  actions  which  are  performed  without 
a  reference  to  God's  glory.     This  the  world 
cannot  understand;  but  it  will  appear  highly- 
reasonable  to  those  who  take  their  ideas  of 
God  from  the  scriptures,  and  who  have  felt 
the  necessity,  and  found  the  benefits  of  re- 
demption.   We  are  debtors  many  ways.    The 
Lord  has  a  right  to  us  by  creation,  by  redemp- 
tion, by  conquest,  when  he  freed  us  from  Sa- 


.ET.  XI. 


LETTERS  TO  A  NODIJOMAN. 


215 


tnn'rt  |H>\ver,  and  t(»ok  passrssion  of  our  hoarls 
Jty  his  f,'raci«;  and  histly,  l»y  "ur  own  volun- 
tary surriMulor  in  tlio  day  wlirn  In;  cnahlcd  us 
to  fix  our  choicf  on  luiusrir,  us  our  IajhI  and 
our  |H)rtion.  TIumi  wo  tMl  tlio  forro  of  our 
'Mi;riilions,  wo  »iw  tlio  luviuty  and  honour  of 
lis  service,  and  tliat  nothiniif  was  worthy  to 
ulund  in  the  hvist  doj^nu*  of  coui|)otitit)n  with 
it.  This  is  alwa\s  oijually  true,  thou<^h  our 
percept  ions  of  it  are  not  always  e(|ually  stroncr. 
Jiut  where  it  has  heen  once  really  known,  it 
cannot  he  wiiolly  for;X'^t^**'>>  or  cease  to  he  the 
povernin!X  principle  of  life;  and  the  Lord  lias 
proiniseil  to  revive  the  impression  in  those 
who  wait  upon  him,  and  therohy  to  renew 
their  strenjjth.  Fot  in  proportion  as  we  feel 
by  what  tics  we  are  his,  we  shall  embrace 
liis  service  as  perfect  freedom. 

Asjain,  when  the  eye  is  thus  sing'le,  the 
whole  body  will  be  lull  of  light.  The  princi- 
ple, ofactin<T  simply  tor  God,  will  in  g-encral 
make  the  path  of  duty  plain,  solve  a  thousand 
otherwise  dubious  questions,  lead  to  the  most 
proper  and  obvious  means,  and  preclude  that 
painful  anxiety  about  events,  which  upon  no 
other  plan  can  be  avoided.  The  love  of  God 
is  the  best  casuist;  especially  as  it  leads  us 
to  a  careful  attendance  to  his  precepts,  a  re- 
liance on  his  promises,  and  a  submission  to 
his  will.  Most  of  our  perplexities  arise  from 
an  undue,  though  perhaps  unperceived,  at- 
tachment to  self  Either  we  have  some 
scheme  of  our  own  too  closely  connected  with 
our  g-eneral  view  of  serving  the  Lord,  or  lay 
some  stress  upon  our  own  management,  which, 
though  we  suspect  it  may  possibly  fail  us,  we 
cannot  entirely  help  trusting  to.  In  these  re- 
spects, the  Lord  permits  his  servants  occasion- 
ally to  feel  their  own  weakness;  but  if  they  are 
sincerely  devoted  to  him,  he  will  teach  them  to 
protit  by  it,  and  bring  them  by  degrees  to  a 
simplicity  of  dependence,  as  well  as  of  in- 
tention. Then  all  tilings  are  easy.  Acting 
from  love,  and  walking  by  faith,  they  can 
neither  be  disappointed  nor  discouraged. 
Duty  is  their  part,  care  is  his,  and  they  are 
enabled  to  cast  it  upon  him.  They  know 
that  when  their  expedients  seem  to  fail,  he 
is  still  all-sufficient.  They  know  that,  being 
engaged  in  his  cause  they  cannot  miscarry  ; 
and  that  though  in  some  things  they  may 
seem  to  fall  short  of  success,  tliey  are  sure 
^of  meeting  acceptance,  and  that  he  will  es- 
timate their  services,  not  by  their  actual  ef- 
fects, but  according  to  the  gracious  princi- 
ple and  desire  he  has  put  into  their  hearts, 
2  Chron.  vi.  7,  8. — I  am,  with  the  greatest 
respect,  &.c. 


LETTER  XL 

June  — 1773, 
MT  LORD, — My  old  cast-off  acquaintance, 
Jlorace,  occasionally  came  in  my  way  this 


morning.  I  opened  it  upon  lih.  'A.  ad.  20. 
Did  I  not  know  the  projMwal  to  Im-  utterly 
inipracticahle,  how  gladly  Hhould  I  imiLiti'  it, 
and  Hend  your  liOrdHhip,  in  lioneHt  prosr»,  if 
not  in  elegant  verse,  an  invitation.  Hut  I 
UHi.st  content  my.self  with  tin;  ifiea  of  tho 
ph'asure  it  would  give  me  to  8it  with  yoii 
half  a  day  under  my  favouritf?  groat  tree,  and 
convers<'  with  you,  not  concerning  tho  com- 
parativcdy  petty  otlhirs  of  human  govern- 
ments, but  of  the  things  pertaining  to  tho 
kingdom  of  (iod.  Ihjw  many  delightful  ^n\y- 
jects  would  suggest  themselves  in  a  free  and 
retired  conversation!  'J'he  excellency  of 
our  King,  the  permanency  and  glory  of  his 
kingdom,  the  beauty  of  his  admini-stration, 
the  privileges  of  his  subjects,  the  review  of 
what  he  has  done  for  us,  and  the  prospect  of 
wiiat  he  has  prepared  for  us  in  future;  and 
if,  while  we  were  conversing,  ho  should  be 
pleased  to  join  us  (as  he  did  the  disciples 
when  walking  to  Emmaus,)  how  would  our 
hearts  burn  within  us !  Indeed,  whether  we 
are  alone,  or  in  company,  the  most  interest- 
ing topics  strike  us  but  faintly,  unless  he  is 
pleased  to  afford  his  gracious  influence ;  but 
when  he  is  present,  light,  love,  liberty,  and 
joy,  spring  up  in  the  hearts  tliat  know  him. 
This  reminds  me  (as  I  have  mentioned  Ho- 
race) to  restore  some  beautiful  lines  to  their 
proper  application.  They  are  impious  and 
idolatrous  as  he  uses  them,  but  have  an  ex- 
pressive propriety  in  the  mouth  of  a  believ- 


Liiccm  redde  tuac,  dux  bono,  patriae 
Instar  veris  eniin  vultus  ubi  luus 
AfTuIsit  populo,  gratior  it  dies, 
Et  soles  melius  nilenl. 

But  we  cannot  meet.  All  that  is  left  for 
me  is  to  use  the  liberty  you  allow  me  of  offer- 
ing a  few  hints  upon  these  subjects  by  letter, 
not  because  you  know  them  not,  but  because 
you  love  them.  The  hour  is  coming  when  all 
impediments  shall  be  removed.  All  distinc- 
tions shall  cease  that  are  founded  upon  sublu- 
nary things,  and  the  earth  and  all  its  works 
shall  be  burnt  up.  Glorious  day  !  May  our 
souls  be  filled  with  the  thought,  and  learn  to 
estimate  all  things  around  us  now  by  the 
view  in  which  they  will  appear  to  us  then ! 
Then  it  will  be  of  small  moment  who  was 
the  prince  and  who  was  the  beggar  in  this 
life,  but  who,  in  their  several  situations, 
sought  and  loved,  and  feared  and  honoured 
the  Lord.  Alas !  how  many  of  the  kings  of 
the  earth,  and  the  rich  men  and  the  chief 
captains,  and  the  mighty  men  will  then  say, 
in  vain,  to  the  mountains  and  the  rocks, 
"  Fall  on  us  and  hide  us !"  In  this  world 
they  are  for  the  most  part  too  busy  to  regard 
the  commands  of  Go<l,  or  too  happy  to  seek 
his  favour:  they  have  their  good  things  here; 
they  please  themselves  for  a  while,  and  in  a 
moment  they  go  down  to  the  grave.     In  that 


21G 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let,  xil 


moment  their  tliou^lits  perish,  their  scliemes 
are  ietl  untinishecl,  they  are  torn  from  their 
possessions,  and  enter  upon  a  new,  an  un- 
tried, an  unchanfjeable,  a  never-ending  state 
of  existence.  Alas !  is  this  all  the  world 
can  alibrd !  I  conirratulate  yon,  my  Ix)rd, 
not  because  God  has  appointed  you  to  appear 
in  an  elevated  rank  (this,  abstracted  from 
tiie  opportunity  it  affords  you  of  j^reater  use- 
fulness, would  perhaps  be  a  more  proper 
subject  for  condolence  ;)  but  that  he  has  ad- 
mitted you  to  those  honours  and  privileges 
which  come  from  him  only,  and  which  so 
few  in  the  superior  ranks  of  life  think  worthy 
of  their  attention.  I  doubt  not  but  you  are 
often  aflected  with  a  sense  of  this  distin- 
guishing mercy.  But  though  we  know  that 
we  are  debtors,  great  debtors  to  the  grace 
of  God,  which  alone  has  made  us  to  differ, 
we  know  it  but  imperfectly  at  present.  It 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  nor 
can  we  form  a  just  conception  of  the  misery 
from  which  we  are  redeemed,  much  less  of 
the  price  paid  for  our  redemption.  How  lit- 
tle do  we  know  of  the  Redeemer's  dignity, 
and  of  the  unutterable  distress  he  endured 
when  his  soul  was  made  an  offering  for  sin, 
and  it  pleased  the  Father  to  bruise  him,  that 
by  his  stripes  we  might  be  healed.  These 
things  will  strike  us  quite  in  another  man- 
ner, when  we  view  them  in  the  light  of 
eternity.  Then,  to  return  to  the  thought 
from  which  I  have  rambled,  then  and  there 
I  trust  we  shall  meet  to  the  highest  advan- 
tage, and  spend  an  everlasting  day  together 
in  happiness  and  praise.  With  this  thougiit 
I  endeavour  to  comfort  myself,  under  the  re- 
gret I  sometimes  feel  that  I  can  have  so  lit- 
tle intercourse  witli  you  in  this  life. 

May  the  cheering  contemplation  of  the  hope 
set  before  us,  support  and  animate  us  to  im- 
prove the  interval  and  fill  us  with  a  holy  am- 
bition of  shining  as  lights  in  the  world,  to 
the  praise  and  glory  of  his  grace  who  has 
called  us  out  of  darkness.  Encompassed  as 
we  are  with  snares,  temptations,  and  infirmi- 
ties, it  is  possible,  by  his  promised  assistance, 
to  live  in  some  good  measure  above  the  world 
while  we  are  in  it;  above  the  influence  of  its 
cares,  its  smiles,  or  its  frowns.  Our  conver- 
sation, TToKiTi-jux,  our  citizenship,  is  in  heaven. 
We  are  not  at  home,  but  only  resident  here 
for  a  season  to  fulfil  an  a])pointed  service  ; 
and  the  Lord,  whom  we  serve,  has  encouraged 
us  to  hope  that  he  will  guide  us  by  his  wis- 
dom, strengthen  us  by  liis  power,  and  com- 
fort us  with  the  light  of  his  coimtenance, 
which  is  better  than  life.  Every  blessing  we 
receive  from  him  is  a  token  of  his  favour,  and 
a  pledge  of  that  far  more  exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory  which  he  has  reserved 
^or  us.  O  I  to  hear  him  say  at  last,  "  Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  in- 
to the  joy  of  thy  Lord !"  will  be  a  rich  amends 
for  all  that  we  can  lose,  suffer,  or  forbear,  for 


his  sake. — I  subscribe  myself,  with  great  sin 
cerity,  &.c. 


LETTER  XIL 

February — 1774. 

MY  LORD, — The  first  line  of  Horace's  epis- 
tle to  Augustus,  when  rightly  applied,  sug- 
gests a  grand  and  cheering  idea.  As  ad- 
dressed by  the  poet,  nothing  can  be  more 
blasphemous,  idolatrous,  and  absurd ;  but 
with  what  comfort  and  propriety  may  a 
christian  look  up  to  him  to  whom  all  power 
is  committed  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  say, 
Cum  tot  sustineas  et  tanta  negotia  solus ! 
Surely  a  more  weighty  and  comprehensive 
sentence  never  dropped  from  an  uninspired 
pen.  And  how  beautifully  and  expressively  is 
it  closed  by  the  word  solus  !  the  government 
is  upon  his  shoulders :  and  though  he  is  con- 
cealed by  a  veil  of  second  causes  from  com- 
mon eyes,  so  that  they  can  perceive  only  the 
means,  instruments,  and  contingencies  by 
which  he  works,  and  therefore  think  he  does 
nothing,  yet  in  reality  he  does  all,  according 
to  his  own  counsel  and  pleasure,  in  the  armies 
of  heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth. 

Who  can  enumerate  the  tot  et  tanta  nego- 
tia, which  are  incessantly  before  his  eye,  ad- 
justed by  his  wisdom,  dependent  on  his  will, 
and  regulated  by  his  power,  in  his  kingdoms 
of  providence  and  grace  ?  If  we  consider  the 
heavens,  the  work  of  his  fingers,  the  moon 
and  the  stars  which  he  has  ordained ;  if  we 
call  in  the  assistance  of  astronomers  and 
glasses,  to  help  us  in  forming  a  conception  of 
the  number,  distances,  magnitudes,  and  mo- 
tions of  the  heavenly  bodies :  the  more  we 
search,  the  more  we  shall  be  confirmed,  that 
these  are  but  a  portion  of  his  ways.  But  he 
calls  them  all  by  their  names,  upholds  them  i 
by  his  power,  and  without  his  continual  | 
energy  they  would  rush  into  confusion,  or 
sink  into  nothing.  If  we  speak  of  intelligen- 
ces, he  is  the  life,  the  joy,  the  sun  of  all  that 
are  capable  of  happiness.  Whatever  may 
be  signified  by  the  thrones,  principalities, 
and  powers  in  the  world  of  light,  they  are 
all  dependent  upon  his  power,  and  obedient 
to  his  command;  it  is  equally  true  of  angels 
as  of  men,  that  without  him  they  can  do  no- 
thing. The  powers  of  darkness  are  likewise 
under  his  subjection  and  control.  Though 
but  little  is  said  of  them  in  scripture,  we  read 
enough  to  assure  us  that  their  number  must 
be  immensely  great,  and  that  their  strength, 
subtilty,  and  malice,  are  such,  as  we  may 
tremble  to  think  of  them  as  our  enemies,  and 
probably  should,  but  for  our  strange  insensi- 
bility to  whatever  does  not  fall  under  the 
cognizance  of  our  outward  senses.  But  he 
holds  them  all  in  a  chain,  so  that  they  can 


xu.] 


LKTTRRS  TO  A  NOTU.E^f  A!^^. 


2J7 


do  or  nttompt  nothin;,'  Imt  hy  liis  pormission  ; 
and  whiitt'vor  lu'  pormils  tlicm  to  do  (ihouijii 
tliry  inoaii  iiotliitit^  |t»ss)  hin  its  np(K)intO(l 
.  iil)S(>rviiMU*y  in  iiccomplisluMLr  l>i.*<  (li'sii^ns. 

Hut  to  comr  ncarrr  \\<mv\  tiiul  to  speak  of 
what  st'pins  more  suited  to  our  scanty  appre- 
hensions; still  we  may  be  lost  iti  wonder. 
Iletbro  this  hiessed  and  only  Potentiate,  nil 
tne  nations  of  the  oarth  are  hut  as  the  dnst 
ii|K)n  the  halanee  and  the  small  drop  of  a 
bucket,  and  nuLrht  bo  thouj^iit  (if  compared 
with  the  immensity  of  his  works)  pcarcoly 
worthy  of  his  notice;  yet  hero  he  presides, 
pervades,  [jrovides,  protects,  and  rules.  In 
liim  his  creatures  live,  move,  and  have  their 
being";  from  him  is  their  fo<xl  and  preserva- 
tion. The  eyes  of  all  are  upon  him;  what 
he  fjlves  they  pj-ather,  and  can  jrather  no 
more ;  and  at  his  word  they  sink  into  the 
dust.  There  is  not  a  worm  that  crawls  upon 
the  nfround.  or  a  flower  that  orows  in  the 
pathless  wilderness,  or  a  shell  npon  the  sea- 
shore, but  bears  the  impress  of  his  wisdom, 
power,  and  orooilness.  With  respect  to  men, 
he  reij^ns  with  uncontrolled  dominion  over 
every  kinnfdom,  family,  and  individual.  Here 
wo  may  be  astonished  at  his  wisdom,  in  ein- 
ployincr  free  ai;'ents,  the  greater  part  of  whom 
are  his  enemies,  to  accomplish  his  purposes. 
But,  however  reluctant,  they  all  serve  him. 
His  patience,  likewise  is  wonderful.  Multi- 
hides,  yea  nearly  our  whole  species,  spend 
the  life  and  strength  which  he  affords  them, 
and  abuses  all  the  bounties  he  heaps  upon 
tiiem,  in  tiie  ways  of  sin.  His  commands 
.ire  disretjarded,  his  name  blasphemed,  his 
mercy  disdained,  his  power  defied  ;  yet  still 
he  spares.  It  is  an  eminent  part  of  his  go- 
vernment, to  restrain  the  depravity  of  human 
nature,  and  in  various  ways  to  check  its  ef- 
forts which,  if  left  to  itself,  without  his  pro- 
vidential control,  would  presently  make 
earth  the  very  imag-e  of  hell.  For  the  vilest 
men  are  not  suffered  to  perpetrate  a  thou- 
sandth part  of  the  evil  which  their  hearts 
would  prompt  them  to.  The  earth,  thouo;]i 
lying  in  tlie  wicked  one,  is  filled  with  the 
g-oodness  of  the  Lord.  He  preservcth  man 
and  beast,  sustains  the  young  lions  in  the 
forest,  feeds  the  birds  of  the  air,  which  have 
neither  store-house  nor  barn,  and  adorns  the 
insects  and  flowers  of  the  field  with  a  beauty 
and  elegance,  far  beyond  what  can  be  found 
in  the  courts  of  kings. 

Still  more  wonderful  is  his  administration 
in  his  kingdom  of  grace.  He  is  present  with 
all  his  creatures,  but  in  a  peculiar  manner 
with  his  own  people.  Each  of  these  are  mo- 
numents of  a  more  illustrionsdisplay  of  power, 
than  that  which  spreads  abroad  the  heavens 
like  a  curtain,  and  laid  the  foundations  of 
the  earth ;  f()r  he  finds  them  all  in  a  state 
of  rebellion  and  enmity,  and  makes  them  a 
willing  people;  and  from  the  moment  he  re- 
veals his  love  to  them,  he  espouses  their 
2E 


cause,  and  taken  all  their  roncernfl  into  lijj 
own  hands.  Ho  is  near  and  nttentivo  to 
every  one  <»f  them,  as  if  there  wn.s  only  that 
one.  This  high  and  lo!>y  One,  who  inlnbits 
eternity,  before  whom  the  Qngoln  vail  their 
fiicr>i,  condescends  to  hold  communion  with 
those  whom  men  despis(v  He  sees  not  aa 
man  sc^eth — rides  on  a  cloud,  disrlainfu!  by  a 
sultan  or  n  czar,  to  manifest  hiiiiEclf  to  a 
humble  soul  in  a  nuid-walh'd  cottage.  Ho 
comn)rts  them  when  in  trouble,  strengtiions 
them  when  weak,  makes  their  beds  in  sick- 
ness, revives  them  when  fainting,  npholda 
them  when  failing,  and  so  seasonably  and  ef- 
fectually manages  tor  them,  that  though  they 
arc  persecuted  and  tempted,  thoinjh  their 
enemies  are  many  and  mighty,  nothing  that 
they  feel  or  fear  is  able  to  separate  them 
from  his  love. 

And  all  this  ho  does  mln.s.  All  the  abili- 
ties, powers,  and  instincts,  that  are  fijund 
amongst  creatures,  are  emanations  from  his 
fulness.  All  changes,  successes,  disappoint- 
ments, all  that  is  memorable  in  the  annals  of 
iiistory,  all  the  risings  and  falls  of  empires, 
all  the  turns  in  human  life,  take  place  ac 
cording  to  his  plan.  In  vain  men  contrive 
and  combine  to  accomplish  their  own  coun- 
sels; unless  they  are  parts  of  his  counsel 
likewise,  the  efforts  of  their  utmost  strength 
and  wisdom  are  crossed  and  reversed  by 
the  feeblest  and  most  unthought-of  circum- 
stances. But  when  he  has  a  work  to  accom- 
plish, and  his  time  is  come,  however  inade- 
quate and  weak  the  means  he  employs  may 
seem  to  a  carnal  eye,  the  success  is  infalli- 
bly secured;  for  all  things  serve  iiim,  and 
are  in  his  hands  as  clay  in  the  hands  of  the 
potter.  Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works, 
Lord  God  Almighty  !  just  and  true  are  thy 
ways,  thou  King  of  saints! 

This  is  the  God  whom  we  adore.  This  is 
he  who  invites  us  to  lean  upon  his  almighty 
arm,  and  promises  to  guide  us  with  his  un- 
erring eye.  He  says  to  you,  my  Lord,  and 
even  to  me,  "  Fear  not,  I  am  with  thee ;  be 
not  dismayed.  I  am  thy  God :  I  will 
strengthen  thee,  yea  I  will  help  thee,  yea  I 
will  uphold  thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my 
righteousness."  Therefore,  while  in  the  path 
of  duty,  and  following  his  call,  we  may  cheer- 
fully pass  on,  regardless  of  apparent  difflcul- 
ties ;  for  the  Lord,  whose  we  are,  and  who 
has  taught  us  to  make  his  glory  our  highest 
end,  will  go  before  us,  and  at  his  word  crook- 
ed tilings  become  straight,  ligfht  shines  out 
of  darkness,  and  mountains  sink  into  plains. 
Faith  may  and  must  be  exercised,  experience 
must  and  will  confirm  what  his  word  de- 
clares, that  the  heart  is  deceitful,  and  that 
man  in  his  best  estate  is  vanity.  But  his 
promises  to  them  that  fear  him  shall  be  con- 
firmed likewise,  and  they  shall  find  him,  ia 
all  situations,  a  sun,  a  shield,  and  an  exceed- 
ing great  reward. 


218 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XIII. 


I  have  lost  another  of  my  people,  a  mother 
unto  our  Israel ;  a  person  of  much  experi- 
ence, eminent  ^rrace,  wisdom,  and  usefulness. 
She  walked  with  God  forty  years:  she  was 
one  of  the  Lord's  poor ;  but  her  poverty  was 
decent,  satisfied,  and  honourable;  she  lived 
respected,  and  her  death  is  considered  as  a 
public  loss.  It  is  a  frrcai  loss  to  me;  I  shall 
miss  her  advice  and  example,  by  which  I 
have  been  often  edified  and  animated.  But 
Jesus  still  lives.  Almost  her  last  words  were. 
The  Lord  is  my  portion,  saith  my  soul. — I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTER  XIIL 

March  10,  1774. 

MY  LORD, — For  about  six  weeks  past  I 
have  had  occasion  to  spend  several  hours  of 
almost  every  day  with  the  sick  and  the  dying. 
These  scenes  are  to  a  minister  like  walkino- 
tlie  hospitals  to  a  young  surgeon.  The  vari- 
ous cases  which  occur,  exemplify,  illustrate, 
and  explain,  with  a  commanding  energy, 
many  truths,  which  may  be  learned  indeed 
at  home,  but  cannot  be  so  well  understood, 
or  their  force  so  sensibly  felt,  without  the 
advantage  of  experience  and  observation. 
As  physicians,  besides  that  competent  gene- 
ral knowledge  of  their  profession  which 
should  be  common  to  them  all,  have  usually 
their  several  favourite  branches  of  study, 
some  applying  themselves  more  to  botany, 
others  to  chemistry,  others  to  anatomy ;  so 
ministers  as  their  inclinations  and  gifts  differ, 
are  led  more  closely  to  consider  some  par- 
ticular branch  of  the  system  of  divine  truth. 
Some  are  directed  to  state  and  defend  the 
doctrines  of  the  gospel ;  some  have  a  talent 
for  elucidating  difficult  texts  of  scripture ; 
some  have  a  turn  for  explaining  the  pro- 
phetical parts,  and  so  of  the  rest.  For  my- 
self, if  it  be  lawful  to  speak  of  myself,  and 
so  far  as  I  can  judge,  anatomy  is  my  favour- 
ite branch ;  I  mean  the  study  of  the  human 
heart,  with  its  workings  and  counter-work- 
ings, as  it  is  differently  affected  in  a  state  of 
nature  or  of  grace  in  the  different  seasons  of 
prosperity,  adversity,  conviction,  temptation, 
sickness,  and  the  approach  of  death.  The 
Lord,  by  sending  me  hither,  provided  me  a 
^ood  school  for  these  purposes.  I  know  not 
where  I  could  have  had  a  better,  or  one  af- 
fording a  greater  variety  of  characters,  in 
proportion  to  the  number  of  people ;  and  as 
they  are  mostly  poor  people,  and  strangers 
to  that  address  which  is  the  result  of  educa- 
tion and  converse  with  the  world,  there  is  a 
simplicity  in  what  they  say  or  do,  which 
gives  me  a  peculiar  advantage  in  judging  of 
their  cases. 

But  I  was  about  to  speak  of  death.  Though 
the  grand  evidence  of  those  truths  upon 
which  our  hopes  are  bwilt,  arises  from  the  au- 


thority of  God  speaking  them  in  his  word, 
and  revealing  them  by  his  Spirit,  to  the  awa- 
kened heart  (for  till  the  heart  is  awakened  it 
is  incapable  of  receiving  this  evidence;)  yet 
some  of  these  truths  are  so  mysterious,  so 
utterly  repugnant  to  the  judgment  of  de- 
praved nature,  that,  though  the  remaining 
influence  of  unbelief  and  vain  reasoning,  the 
temptations  of  Satan,  and  the  subtle  argu- 
ments with  which  some  men  reputed  wise, 
attack  the  foundations  of  our  faith,  the  minds 
even  of  believers  are  sometimes  capable  of 
being  shaken.  I  know  no  better  corrobora- 
ting evidence  for  the  relief  of  the  mind  under 
such  assaults  than  the  testimony  of  dying 
persons,  especially  of  such  as  have  lived  out 
of  the  noise  of  controversy,  and  who  perhaps 
never  heard  a  syllable  of  what  has  been 
started  in  these  evil  days  against  the  deity 
of  Christ,  his  atonement,  and  other  impor- 
tant articles.  Permit  me,  my  Lord,  to  relate, 
upon  this  occasion,  some  things  which  e.x- 
ceedingly  struck  me  in  the  conversation  I 
had  with  a  young  woman  whom  I  visited  in 
her  last  illness  about  two  years  ago.  She 
was  a  sober,  prudent  person,  of  plain  sense, 
could  read  her  Bible,  but  had  read  little  be- 
sides. Her  knowledge  of  the  world  was 
nearly  confined  to  the  parish  ;  for  I  suppose 
she  was  seldom,  if  ever,  twelve  miles  from 
home  in  her  life.  She  had  known  the  gos- 
pel about  seven  years  before  the  Lord  visited 
her  with  a  lingering  consumption,  which  at 
length  removed  her  to  a  better  world.  A 
few  days  before  her  death,  I  had  been  pray- 
ing by  her  bed-side,  and  in  my  prayer,  I 
thanked  the  Lord,  that  he  gave  her  now  to 
see  that  she  had  not  followed  cunningly-de- 
vised fables.  When  I  had  finished,  she  re- 
peated that  word,  "No,"  she  said,  "not  cun- 
ningly-devised fables,  these  are  realities  in- 
deed :  I  feel  their  truth,  I  feel  their  comfort. 
O,  tell  my  friends,  tell  my  acquaintance,  tell 
enquiring  souls,  tell  poor  sinners,  tell  all  the 
daughters  of  Jerusalem  (alluding  to  Solo- 
mon's Song,  V.  16.  from  which  she  had  just 
before  desired  me  to  preach  at  her  funeral,) 
what  Jesus  has  done  for  my  soul.  Tell  them 
that  now  in  the  time  of  need  I  find  him  my 
beloved  and  my  friend,  and  as  such  I  com- 
mend him  to  them."  She  then  fixed  her 
eyes  steadfastly  upon  me,  and  proceeded,  as 
well  as  I  can  recollect,  as  follows :  "  Sir,  you 
are  highly  favoured  in  being  called  to  preach 
the  gospel.  I  have  often  heard  you  with 
pleasure ;  but  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that 
I  now  see  all  you  have  said  or  can  say,  is 
comparatively  but  little.  Nor  till  you  come 
into  my  situation,  and  have  death  and  eter- 
nity full  in  your  view^  will  it  be  possible  for 
you  to  conceive  the  vast  weight  and  impor* 
lance  of  the  truths  you  declare.  Oh !  Sir, 
it  is  a  serious  thing  to  die,  no  words  can  ex- 
press what  is  needful  to  support  tiie  soul  in 
the  solemnity  of  a  dying  hour," 


LKT.  XIV.] 


ij:tti:rs  to  a  nobleman. 


219 


I  l)(>lii;vo  it  was  the  noxt  day  wlicn  I 
visittnl  lior  usrtiin.  Alitor  mn\w  tliscoursi*,  lus 
usual,  slio  said,  with  a  roinark:ibI«'  vrlu'iiuMicc? 
ofspet'cli,  *'  Aro  you  suri^  I  camiot  bo  niis- 


takoi 


I  aiKsworod  wiflumt  lu'silation,  Vcs, 


I  am  sure  ;  I  aui  not  afraid  to  say,  uiy  soul 
for  your's  tliat  you  aro  rii,'ht.  Sho  paused  a 
liltlo,  and  tlien  replied,  '•  Vou  say  true,  I 
know  I  am  ri«;ht.  1  tee!  that  my  hope  is 
fixed  up^ni  the  Ilock  of  ai,'es;  I  know  in 
whom  I  have  believed.  Vet  if  you  could  s(>e 
with  my  eyes,  you  would  not  wonder  at  my 
question.  IJut  the  approach  of  death  jire- 
eents  a  prospect,  whicli  is  till  tluMi  hidden 
from  u-s  and  which  cannot  be  described." 
She  said  much  more  to  the  same  puriwse ; 
and  in  all  she  sjwke  there  was  a  dijrnity, 
weiijht,  luid  evidence  which  I  suppose  few 
professors  of  divinity,  when  lecturing-  from 
the  chair,  have  at  any  time  equalled.  We 
may  well  say,  with  Elihu,  "  Who  teacheth 
like  him!"  Many  instances  of  the  like  kind 
I  iiave  met  with  here.  I  have  a  poor  girl 
near  me  who  looks  like  an  idiot,  and  her 
natural  capacity  is  indeed  very  small,  but 
the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  make  her  ac- 
quainted alternately  with  g-reat  temptations 
and  proportionably  g^reat  discoveries  of  his 
love  and  trutii.  Sometimes,  when  her  heart 
is  enlar<Te(l,  I  listen  to  her  with  astonish- 
ment. I  think  no  books  or  ministers  I  ever 
met  with  have  f^iven  me  such  an  impression 
and  understanding  of  what  the  apostle  styles 
T»  *:.;,  Tou  0i:u,*  as  I  have  upon  .some  occa- 
sions received  from  her  conversation. 

But  I  am  rambling-  again.  My  attendance 
upon  the  sick  is  not  always  equally  comfort- 
able, but,  could  I  learn  aright,  it  might  be 
equally  instructive.  Some  confirm  the  pre- 
ciousness  of  a  Saviour  to  me,  by  the  cheer- 
fulness with  which  through  faith  in  his  name, 
they  meet  the  king  of  terrors.  Others  no 
less  confirm  it,  by  the  terror  and  reluctance 
they  discover  when  they  find  they  must  die; 
for  though  there  are  too  many  who  sadly 
slight  the  blessed  gospel  while  they  are  in 
health,  yet  in  this  place  most  are  too  far  en- 
lightened to  be  quite  thoughtless  about  their 
souls,  if  they  retain  their  senses  in  their  last 
illness.  Then,  like  the  foolish  virgins,  they 
say,  "  Give  us  of  your  oil."  Then  they  are 
willing  that  ministers  and  professors  should 
pray  with  them  and  speak  to  them.  Through 
the  Lord's  goodness,  several  whom  I  have 
visited  in  these  circumstances  have  afforded 
me  good  hope;  they  have  been  savingly 
changed  by  his  blessing  upon  what  has 
passed  at  the  eleventh  hour.  I  have  seen  a 
marvellous  and  blessed  change  take  place  in 
their  language,  views,  and  tempers,  in  a  few 
davs.  I  now  visit  a  young  person,  who  is 
cut  short  in  her  nineteenth  year  by  a  con- 


♦  The  deep  things  of  God, 


sumption,  and  I  think  cannot  live  many  dayii, 
1  found  her  v«?ry  ignorant  and  insiijHibJe,  nnj 
sin*  remained  so  a  good  while;  but  of  late  f 
hope  her  lu'art  is  touched.  She  feeln  hef 
lost  state,  sh(!  seems  to  have  wnne  right  de- 
sires, she  begins  to  pray,  and  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  1  cannot  hut  hop(.'  IIk*  Lord  is  teacli- 
ing  her,  anil  will  reveal  himself  to  her  beforo 
she  de|)arts.  But  it  is  sometimes  oth(.'rwise. 
I  saw  a  young  woman  die  last  week:  1  had 
been  olleu  with  her;  but  the  night  she  was 
removed  she  could  only  say,  "  O,  I  cannot 
live,  I  cannot  live!"  She  repeated  this 
mournful  complaint  as  long  as  she  could 
speak ;  for,  as  the  vital  j)owers  were  more 
oppressed,  her  voice  was  changed  into  groans ; 
her  groans  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and,  in 
about  a  ([uarter  of  an  hour  after  she  had  dono 
speaking,  she  expired.  Poor  thing,  I  thought, 
as  I  stood  by  her  bed-side,  if  you  were  a 
duchess,  in  this  situation,  what  could  the 
world  do  for  you  now  !  I  thought  likewise 
how  many  things  are  there  that  now  give 
us  pleasure  or  pain,  and  assume  a  mighty 
importance  in  our  view,  which  in  a  dyin^ 
hour,  will  be  no  more  to  us  than  the  clouds 
wiiich  fly  unnoticed  over  our  heads.  Then 
the  truth  of  our  Lord's  aphorism  will  be  seen, 
felt,  and  acknowledged,  "  One  thing  is  need- 
ful ;"  and  we  shall  be  ready  to  apply  Grotius'a 
dying  confession  to,  alas  !  a  great  part  of  our 
lives  !  Ah  vilam  pcrdldi,  nihil  agendo  labo- 
riose.] 

Your  Lordship  allows  me  to  send  unpre- 
meditated letters.  I  need  not  assure  you 
this  is  one. — 1  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XIV. 

March  24,  1774. 
MY  LORD, — What  a  mercy  is  it  to  be  sepa- 
rated in  spirit,  conversation,  and  interest  from 
the  world  that  knows  not  God !  where  all 
are  alike  by  nature.  Grace  makes  a  happy 
and  unspeakable  difference.  Believers  were 
once  under  the  same  influence  of  that  spirit 
who  still  worketh  in  the  children  of  disobe- 
dience, pursuing  different  paths,  but  all 
equally  remote  from  truth  and  peace ;  some 
hatching  cockatrice  eggs,  others  weaving 
spider  webs.  These  two  general  heads  of 
mischief  and  vanity  include  all  the  schemes, 
aims,  and  achievements  of  which  man  is 
capable,  till  God  is  pleased  to  visit  the  heart 
with  his  grace.  The  busy  part  of  mankind 
are  employed  in  multiplying  evils  and  mise- 
ries ;  the  more  retired,  speculative,  and  curi- 
ous are  amusing  themselves  with  what  will 
hereafter  appear  as  unsubstantial,  unstable, 
and  ilselessasacobweb.  Deatli  will  soon  sweep 

t  I  have  lost  a  life  in  laborious  trifling. 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XIV 


awny  all  that  the  philosophers,  the  virtuosi, 
the  inathomaticiaus,  the  antiquarians,  and 
Jlher  leanuMJ  Iriticrs  are  now  weaving-  with 
so  much  seir-ai)plauded  address.  Nor  will 
the  tine-spun  dresses  in  whicli  the  moralist 
and  the  sjlr-riijhteous  clotlic  tliemselvcs,  be 
of  more  advantage  to  them,  either  for  orna- 
ment or  defence,  than  the  produce  of  a 
spider.  But  it  is  given  to  a  few  to  know 
tlicir  present  state  and  future  destination. 
Tliese  build  upon  the  immoveable  rock  of 
ages  for  eternity.  These  are  trees  spring- 
ing from  a  living  root,  and  bear  the  fruits  of 
righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ,  to 
the  glory  and  praise  of  God.  These  only 
are  awake,  while  the  rest  of  the  world  are  in 
a  sleep,  indulging  in  vain  dreams,  from  which 
likewise  they  will  shortly  awake ;  but  O, 
with  what  consternation,  when  they  shall 
find  themselves  irrecoverably  divorced  from 
all  their  delusive  attachments,  and  compelled 
to  appear  before  that  God  to  whom  they  have 
lived  strangers,  and  to  whom  they  must 
give  an  account !  O  for  a  thousand  tongues 
to  proclaim  in  the  ears  of  thoughtless  mortals 
that  important  aphorism  of  our  Lord,  "  One 
tiling  is  needful !"  Yet  a  thousand  tongues 
would  be,  and  are  employed  in  vain,  unless 
so  far  as  the  I^ord  is  pleased  to  send  the 
watchman's  warning,  by  the  power  and 
agency  of  his  own  Spirit.  I  think  the  poet 
tells  us,  that  Cassandra  had  the  gift  of  truly 
foretelling  future  events ;  but  she  was  after- 
wards laid  under  a  painful  embarrassment, 
that  nobody  should  believe  her  words. 
Such,  with  respect  to  the  bulk  of  their  audi- 
tories, is  the  lot  of  gospel-ministers :  they 
are  enlightened  to  see,  and  sent  forth  to  de- 
clare, the  awtul  consequences  of  sin  ;  but, 
alas !  how  few  believe  their  report !  To 
illustrate  our  grief  and  disappointment,  I 
sometimes  suppose  a  dangerous  water  to  be 
in  the  way  of  travellers,  over  which  there  is 
a  bridge,  wiiicli  those  wlio  can  be  prevailed 
upon  may  pass  with  safety.  By  the  side  of 
this  bridge  v.-atchmen  are  placed,  to  warn 
passengers  of  the  danger  of  the  waters ;  to 
assure  them,  that  all  who  attempt  to  go 
through  them  must  inevitably  perish ;  to 
invite,  entreat,  and  beseech  them,  if  they 
value  their  lives,  to  cross  the  bridge.  Me- 
thinks  this  sliould  be  an  easy  task:  yet  if  we 
should  see  in  fact  tiie  greater  part  stopping 
their  ears  to  the  friendly  importunity  ;  many 
so  much  oftbnded  by  it,  as  to  account  the 
watchman's  care  impertinent,  and  only  de- 
serving of  scorn  and  ill  treatment;  hardly 
one  in  fifty  betaking  themselves  to  the 
friendly  bridge,  the  rest  eagerly  plunging 
into  the  waters,  from  which  none  return,  as 
if  they  were  determined  to  try  who  should 
be  drowned  first  This  spectacle  would  be  no 
unfit  emblem  of  the  reception  the  gospel 
xaeet:^  with  from  a  blinded  world.     The  mi- 


nisters are  rejected,  opposed,  vilified  ;  Ihey 
are  accounted  troublers  of  the  world,  because 
they  dare  not,  cannot  stand  silent,  while 
sinners  are  perishing  before  their  eyes:  and 
if,  in  the  course  of  many  sermons,  they  can 
prevail  but  on  one  soul  to  take  timely  warn- 
ing, and  to  seek  to  Jesus,  who  is  the  W'ly, 
the  truth,  and  the  life,  they  may  account  it  a 
mercy  and  an  honour,  sufficient  to  overba- 
lance all  the  labour  and  reproaches  they  are 
called  to  endure.  From  the  most  they  must 
expect  no  better  reception  than  the  Jews 
gave  to  Jeremiah,  who  told  the  prophet  to  his 
face,  "  As  to  the  word  thou  hast  spoken  to 
us  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  v/e  will  not 
hearken  to  thee  at  all ;  but  we  will  certainly 
do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  forth  out  of  our 
own  mouth."  Surely,  if  the  Lord  has  given 
us  any  sense  of  the  worth  of  our  souls,  any 
compassion  towards  them,  this  must  be  a 
painful  exercise ;  and  experience  must  teach 
us  something  of  the  meaning  of  Jeremiah's 
pathetic  exclamation,  "  O  that  my  head  were 
waters,  and  mine  eyes  fountains  of  tears! 
that  I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the 
slain  of  the  daughters  of  my  people."  It  is 
our  duty  to  be  thus  affected.  Our  relief  lies 
in  the  wisdom  and  sovereignty  of  God.  He 
reveals  his  salvation  to  whom  he  pleases,  for 
the  most  part  to  babes;  from  the  bulk  of  the 
wise  and  the  prudent  it  is  hidden.  Thus  it  hath 
pleased  him,  and  therefore  it  must  be  right. 
Yea  he  will  one  day  condescend  to  justify 
the  propriety  and  equity  of  his  proceedings  tc 
his  creatures:  then  every  mouth  will  be 
stopped,  and  none  will  be  able  to  reply 
against  his  judge.  Light  is  come  mto  the 
world,  but  men  prefer  darkness.  They  hate 
the  light,  resist  it,  and  rebel  against  it.  It 
is  true,  all  do  so ;  and  therefore,  if  all  were 
to  perish  under  the  condemnation,  their  ruin 
would  be  their  own  act.  It  is  of  grace  that 
any  are  saved,  and  in  the  distribution  of  that 
grace,  he  does  what  he  will  with  his  own ;  a 
right  which  most  are  ready  enough  to  claim 
in  their  own  concerns,  though  they  are  so 
unwilling  to  allow  it  to  the  Lord  of  all. 
Many  perplexing  and  acrimonious  disputes 
have  been  started  upon  this  subject ;  but  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord  are  called,  not  to  dis- 
pute, but  to  admire  and  rejoice ;  to  love,  adore, 
and  obey.  To  know  that  he  loved  us,  and 
gave  himself  for  us,  is  the  constraining  argu- 
ment and  motive  to  love  him,  and  surrender 
ourselves  to  him  :  to  consider  ourselves  as  no 
longer  our  own,  but  to  devote  ourselves,  with 
every  faculty,  power,  and  talent  to  his  ser- 
vice and  glory.  He  deserves  our  all ;  for  he 
parted  with  all  for  us.  He  made  himself  poor; 
he  endured  shame,  torture,  death,  and  the 
curse  for  us,  that  we,  through  him,  might  in- 
herit everlasting  life.  Ah !  the  hardness  of  my 
heart,  that  I  am  no  more  affected,  astonished, 
overpowered,  with  this  thought. — I  am,  &c. 


NTT.  XT.J 


LETTERS  TO  A  NODIJCMAN. 


281 


LETTER  XV. 


April  *J(),  1774. 
MY  LOUD, — I  Iiavo  botMJ  |H)U(l«'riii<j  u  j^mkxI 
wliile  for  ti  Mil)j('ot,  and  ul  lust  I  ht-f^in  uith- 
Oiit  oiu',  li(>i)in;!^  that,  as  it  Ims  ol\rn  lia|>- 
pcnetl,  wliilt?  1  uiii  wriliiijr  ()iu»  lino,  some- 
thing will  oci'ur  to  till  np  anotlior.  Indeed, 
1  have  un  inexhaustible  lund  ut  hand;  but  it 
is  to  mc  often  like  a  prizo  in  the  iiand  of  u 
fool;  I  want  skill  to  improve  it.  (.)  for  a 
warm,  a  suitable,  u  seasonable  train  of 
tliou<rht,  that  niij,^ht  eidiven  my  own  heart, 
and  not  be  unworthy  your  J.ordship's  peru- 
sal !  JNIethinks  the  iK)ets  can  have  but  cold 
comfort,  when  they  invocate  a  fabled  Muse; 
but  we  have  a  warrant,  a  ri<;ht,  to  look  up 
for  the  inthience  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  or- 
dains strenijth  lor  us,  and  has  promised  to 
work  in  us,  ^^'hat  a  comlbrt,  what  an  honour 
is  this,  that  worms  liave  liberty  to  look  up  to 
God  !  and  that  He,  the  hio;h  and  holy  One  who 
inhabiteth  eternity,  is  pleased  to  look  down 
upon  us,  to  maintain  our  peace,  to  supply  our 
wants,  to  ^uide  us  with  his  eye,  to  inspire  us 
with  wisdom  and  gfrace  suitable  to  our  occa- 
sions !  They  who  profess  to  know  something 
of  this  intercourse,  and  to  depend  upon  it, 
are  by  the  world  accounted  enthusiasts,  who 
kiiow  not  what  they  mean,  or  perhaps  hypo- 
crites, who  pretend  to  what  they  have  not,  in 
order  to  cover  some  base  designs.  But  we 
have  reason  to  bear  their  reproaches  with 
patience. — Could  the  miser  say, 

-Populus  me  sibilat,  at  mihi  plaudo 


Ipse  domi,  simul  ac  nummos  conteraplor  m  area. 

Well,  then,  may  the  believer  say,  let  them 
laugh,  let  them  rage,  let  them,  if  they  please, 
point  at  me  for  a  fool,  as  I  walk  the  streets ; 
if  I  do  but  take  up  the  Bible,  or  run  over  in 
my  mind  the  inventory  of  the  blessings  with 
which  the  Lord  has  enriched  me,  I  have  suf- 
ficient amends.  Jesus  is  mine ;  in  him  I 
have  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification, 
and  redemption,  an  interest  in  all  the  pro- 
mises, and  in  all  the  perfections  of  God  ;  he 
will  guide  me  by  his  counsel,  support  me  by 
his  power,  comfort  me  with  his  presence, 
while  I  am  here,  and  afterwards,  when  flesh 
and  heart  fail,  he  will  receive  me  to  his  glory. 
Let  them  say  what  they  will,  they  shall  not 
dispute  or  laugh  us  out  of  our  spiritual  senses. 
If  all  the  blind  men  in  the  kingdom  should 
endeavour  to  bear  me  down,  that  the  sun  is 
not  bright,  or  that  the  rainbow  has  no  colours, 
I  would  still  believe  my  own  eyes.  I  have 
seen  them  both,  they  have  not.  I  cannot 
prove  to  their  satisfaction  what  I  assert,  be- 
cause they  are  destitute  of  sight,  the  necessary 
medium ;  yet  their  exceptions  produce  no  un- 
certainty in  my  mind ;  they  would  not,  they 
could  not  hesitate  a  moment,  if  they  were 
not  blind,  Just  so,  they  who  have  been 
taught  of  God,  who  have  tasted  that  the  Lord 


is  graciou.s  hnvo  nn  oxporimontnl  pcrcrption 
of  the  truth,  whieji  ren«hTs  iju-ni  pnwtf  a^jninjit 
all  the  H)phistry  of  intidels.  I  am  p'T.Miadi-d 
we  have  many  j)lain  people  here,  uhis  if  a 
wise  man  of  tin?  world  wan  to  hugg('st,  ilmt 
the  Ihble  is  a  human  invention,  would  tie 
<piite  at  a  loss  how  to  answer  him,  by  argu- 
ments drawn  from  external  evidences;  yet 
they  have  foimd  such  elVectH  from  this  bles.^ed 
book,  that  they  would  b(?  no  more  moved  by 
the  insinuation,  than  if  they  were  told,  tliat  a 
cunning  man,  or  set  of  men,  invented  the 
sun,  and  placed  it  in  the  firmament.  So  if  a 
wise  St)cinian  was  to  tell  them,  that  the  Sa- 
viour was  only  a  man  like  themselves,  they 
would  conceive  just  such  an  ojiinion  of  hia 
sk'ill  in  divinity,  as  a  philot-oph(T  would  do  of 
a  clown's  skill  m  astronomy,  who  should  af- 
firm that  the  sun  was  no  bigger  than  a  cart- 
wheel. 

It  remains  therefore  a  truth,  in  defiance  of 
all  the  cavils  of  the  ignorant,  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  does  influence  the  hearts  of  all  the 
children  of  God,  or  in  other  words,  they  are 
inspired,  not  with  new  revelations,  but  with 
grace  and  wisdom  to  understand,  apply,  and 
feed  upon  the  great  things  already  revealed 
in  the  scriptures,  without  which  the  scriptures 
are  as  useless  as  spectacles  to  the  blind.  Were 
it  not  so,  when  we  become  acquainted  with 
the  poverty,  ignorance,  and  wickedness  of  our 
hearts,  we  must  sit  down  in  i:Uer  despair  of 
being  ever  able  to  think  a  good  thought,  to 
offer  a  single  petition  aright  in  prayer,, or  to 
take  one  safe  step  in  the  path  of  life.  But 
now  we  may  be  content  witii  our  proper 
weakness,  since  the  power  and  spirit  of  Christ 
are  engaged  to  rest  upon  us ;  and  while  we 
are  preserved  in  a  simple  dependence  upon 
this  help,  though  unable  of  ourselves  to  do 
any  thing,  we  shall  find  an  ability  to  do  every 
thing  that  our  circumstances  and  duty  call 
for.  What  is  weaker  than  a  worm?  Yet  the 
Lord's  worms  shall  in  his  strength,  thrash  the 
mountains,  and  make  the  hills  as  chaf^'.  But 
this  life  of  faith,  this  living  and  acting  by  a 
power  above  our  own,  is  an  inexplicable  mys- 
tery, till  experience  makes  it  plain.  I  have 
often  wondered  that  St.  Paul  has  obtained  so 
much  quarter  at  the  hands  of  some  people,  as 
to  pass  with  them  for  a  man  of  sense;  for 
surely  the  greatest  part  of  his  writings  must 
be  to  the  last  degree  absurd  and  unintelligible 
upon  their  principles.  How  many  contra- 
dictions must  they  find,  for  instance,  if  they 
give  any  attention  to  what  they  read  in  that 
one  passage.  Gal.  ii.  20,  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ:  Nevertheless  I  live;  yet  not  I, 
but  Christ  liveth  in  nic:  and  tlie  life  which  I 
now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  faitii  in  the  Son 
of  God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for 
me." 

And  as  believers  are  thus  inspired  by  tjie 
Holy  Spirit,  who  furnishes  them  with  desires, 
motives,  and  abilities,  to  perform  what  is 


222 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XVI. 


agreeable  to  his  will;  so  T  apprehend,  that 
they  who  live  without  God  in  the  world,  whom 
the  apostle  styles  sensual,  not  havinnc  tlie 
Spirit,  are  in  a  greater  or  loss  degree  ad  cap- 
turn  recipirntis,  under  what  I  may  call  a 
black  inspiration.  After  making  the  best 
allowances  I  can,  both  for  the  extent  of  hu- 
man genius  and  tlie  deplorable  evil  of  the- 
human  heart,  I  cannot  suppose  that  one  half 
cf  the  wicked  wit,  of  wiiich  some  persons  are 
so  proud,  is  properly  their  own.  Perhaps 
such  a  one  as  Voltaire  would  neither  have 
written,  nor  have  been  read  or  adtnired  so 
much,  if  he  had  not  been  the  amanuensis  of 
an  abler  hand  in  his  own  way.  Satan  is  al- 
ways near,  when  the  heart  is  disposed  to 
receive  him ;  and  the  Lord  withdraws  his 
restraints,  to  heighten  the  sinner's  ability  of 
sinning  with  an  eclat,  and  assisting  him  with 
such  strokes  of  blasphemy,  malice,  and  false- 
hood, as  perhaps  he  could  not  otherwise 
liave  attained.  Tlierefore,  I  do  not  wonder 
that  they  are  clever  and  smart,  that  they  raise 
a  laugh,  and  are  received  with  applause 
among  those  who  are  like-minded  with  them- 
selves. But  unless  the  Lord  is  pleased  to 
grant  them  repentance,  though  it  is  rather  to 
be  feared  some  of  them  are  given  up  to 
judicial  hardness  of  heart,  how  much  better 
would  it  have  been  for  them,  had  they  been 
born  idiots  or  lunatics,  than  to  be  distin- 
guished as  the  willing,  industrious,  and  suc- 
cessful instruments  of  the  powers  of  darkness, 
in  beguiling,  perverting,  and  ruining  the 
souls  of  men  !  Alas,  what  are  parts  and  ta- 
lents, or  any  distinctions  which  give  pre-emi- 
nence in  life,  unless  they  are  sanctified* by 
the  grace  of  God,  and  directed  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  will  and  glory!  From  the 
expression,  "Bind  them  in  bundles,  and  burn 
them,"  I  have  been  led  to  think,  that  the  de- 
ceivers and  the  deceived,  they  who  have 
prostituted  their  gifts  or  influence  to  encou- 
rage others  in  sin,  and  they  who  have  perish- 
ed by  their  means,  may  in  another  world 
have  some  peculiar  and  inseparable  connec- 
tion, and  spend  an  eternity  in  fruitless  lamen- 
tations that  ever  they  were  connected  here. 
Your  Lordship,  I  doubt  not,  feels  the  force 
of  that  line, 

O,  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor ! 


Had  not  the  Lord  separated  you  for  him- 
self, your  rank,  your  abilities,  your  influence, 
which  now  you  chiefly  value  as  enlarging 
your  opportunities  of  usefulness,  might,  nay 
certainly  would,  have  been  diverted  into  the 
opposite  channel. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XVI. 

Novemhrr  .5,  1774. 
MY   LORD, — I  have  not  very  lately  had  re- 
course to  the  expedient  of  descanting  upon 


a  text,  but  I  believe  it  the  best  method  I 
can  take  to  avoid  ringing  changes  upon  a 
few  obvious  topics,  which  I  suppose  uniformly 
present  themselves  to  my  mind  when  I  am 
about  to  write  to  your  Lordship.  Juit  now, 
that  sweet  expr^  ssion  of  David  occurred  to 
my  thoughts,  "The  Lord  is  my  shepherd." 
Permit  me,  without  plan  or  premeditation, 
to  make  a  few  observations  upon  it ;  and  may 
your  Lordship  feel  the  peace,  the  confidence, 
the  blessedness,  which  a  believing  applica- 
tion of  the  words  is  suited  to  inspire. 

The  Socinians,  and  others,  in  their  unhappy 
laboured  attempts  to  darken  tlie  principal 
glory  and  foundation-comfort  of  the  gospel, 
employ  their  critical  sophistry  against  those 
texts  which  expressly  and  doctrinally  declare 
the  Redeemer's  character,  and  affect  to 
triumph,  if  in  any  manuscript  or  ancient 
version  they  can  find  a  variation  from  the  re- 
ceived copies  which  seems  to  favour  their 
cause.  But  we  may  venture  to  wave  the 
authority  of  every  disputed  or  disputable  text, 
and  maintain  the  truth  against  their  cavils  from 
the  current  language  and  tenor  of  the  whole 
scrif>ture.  David's  words,  in  Psalm  xxiii,  are 
alone  a  decisive  proof  that  Jesus  is  Jehovah, 
if  they  will  but  allow  two  things,  which  I 
think  they  cannot  deny  : — 1.  That  our  Sa- 
viour assumes  to  himself  the  character  of  the 
Shepherd  of  his  people ; — and,  2.  That  he 
did  not  come  into  the  world  to  abridge  those 
advantages  wliich  the  servants  of  God  en- 
joyed before  his  incarnation.  Upon  these 
premises,  which  cannot  be  gainsaid  without 
setting  aside  the  whole  New  Testament,  the 
conclusion  is  undeniable:  for  if  Jehovah  was 
David's  Shepherd,  unless  Jesus  be  Jehovah, 
we  who  live  under  the  gospel  have  an  un- 
speakable disadvantage,  in  being  entrusted 
to  the  care  of  one  who,  according  to  the  Soci- 
nians, is  a  mere  man ;  and  upon  the  Arian 
scheme,  is  at  the  most  a  creature,  and  infi- 
nitely short  of  possessing  those  perfections 
which  David  contemplated  in  his  Shepherd. 
He  had  a  Shepherd  whose  wisdom  and  power 
were  infinite,  and  might  therefore  warranta- 
bly  conclude  he  should  not  want,  and  need 
not  fear.  And  we  also  may  conclude  the 
same,  if  our  Shepherd  be  the  Lord  or  Jeho- 
vah, but  not  otherwise.  Besides,  the  very 
nature  of  the  Shepherd's  office  respecting 
the  state  of  such  frail  creatures  as  we  are, 
requires  those  attributes  for  the  due  dis- 
charge of  it  which  are  incommunicably  di- 
vine. He  must  intimately  know  every  indi- 
vidual of  the  flock:  his  eye  must  be  upon 
them  every  one,  and  his  ear  open  to  their 
prayers,  and  his  arm  stretched  out  for  their 
relief,  in  all  places  and  in  all  ages :  every 
thought  of  every  heart  must  be  open  to  his 
view,  and  his  wisdom  must  penetrate,  and  his 
arm  control  and  over-rule  all  the  hidden 
and  complicated  machinations  of  the  powers 
of  darkness :  he  must  have  the  administration 


LET.  XVI.] 


of  universal  providence  over  nil  the  nations, 
fuinilif!'.  Hiul  {M'rsoiis  uixm  ourtli,  or  lie  could 
not  etr»'rtu;illy  ni;iua;x*'  '^t  thoso  who  put 
tht'ir  trust  in  him,  in  that  irunuMise  variety 
ol"  cases  and  circuujslanccs  in  which  they  arc 
found.  K(>a.son,  as  well  as  scripture,  may 
conviiue  us,  that  he  who  ;,^alhereth  the  out- 
casts ol"  Israel,  who  healeth  the  hroken  in 
heart,  who  uplioldeth  all  that  liill,  raisetli  up 
all  that  are  bi)w«\l  down,  and  u|)on  whom  the 
eyes  of  all  wait  tor  their  supj^ort,  can  he  no 
Other  than  he  who  telleth  the  lunnher  ol'the 
Stars,  ajid  calleth  them  all  hy  their  names, 
who  is  ofreat  in  power,  and  whoso  under- 
Btandin;^^  is  infinite.  To  this  purpose  like- 
wise the  prophet  Isaiah  descrihes  this  mighty 
Shepherd,  chap.  xl.  9 — 17,  both  as  to  his 
person  and  ortice. 

But  is  not  this  indeed  the  great  mystery 
of  godliness!  How  just  is  the  apostle's  ob- 
servation, that  no  man  can  say  Jesus  Christ 
is  Lord,  but  by  the  IlolyCihost!  How  as- 
tonishing the  thought, — that  the  Maker  of 
heaven  and  earth,  the  holy  one  of  Israel,  be- 
fore whose  presence  the  earth  shook,  the 
heavens  dropped  when  he  displayed  a  faint 
emblem  of  his  majesty  upon  Sinai,  should 
afterwards  appear  in  the  form  of  a  servant, 
and  hang  upon  a  cross,  the  sport  and  scorn  of 
wicked  men  !  I  cannot  wonder  that  to  the 
wise  men  of  the  world  this  appears  absurd, 
unreasonable,  and  impossible ;  yet  to  right 
reason,  to  reason  enlightened,  and  sanctified, 
however  amazing  the  proposition  be,  yet  it 
appears  true  and  necessary,  upon  a  supposi- 
tion that  a  holy  God  is  pleased  to  pardon 
sinners  in  a  way  suited  to  display  the  awful 
glories  of  his  justice.  The  same  arguments 
which  prove  t!ie  blood  of  bulls  and  goats  in- 
sufficient to  take  away  sin,  will  conclude 
against  the  utmost  doings  or  sufferings  of 
men  or  angels.  The  Redeemer  of  sinners 
must  bo  mighty ;  he  must  have  a  personal 
dignity,  to  stamp  such  a  value  upon  his  un- 
dertakings as  that  thereby  God  may  ap- 
pear just  as  well  as  merciful  in  justifying 
the  ungodly  for  his  sake  ;  and  he  must  be 
all-sufficient  to  bless,  and  almighty  to  pro- 
tect those  who  come  unto  him  for  safety  and 
life. 

Such  a  one  is  our  Shepherd.  This  is  he 
of  whom  we,  through  grace,  are  enabled  to 
say,  w-e  are  his  people,  and  the  slieep  of 
his  pasture.  We  are  his  by  every  tie  and 
right;  lie  made  us,  he  redeemed  us,  he  re- 
claimed us  from  the  hand  of  our  enemies,  and 
we  are  his  by  our  own  voluntary  surrender 
of  ourselves ;  for,  though  we  once  slighted, 
despised,  and  opposed  him,  he  made  us  will- 
ing in  the  day  of  his  power :  he  knocked  at 
the  door  of  our  hearts;  but  we,  at  least  I, 
harred  and  fastened  it  against  him  as  much 
and  as  long  as  possible.  But  when  he  re- 
vealed his  love  we  could  stand  out  no  longer. 
Lake  sheep,  we  are  weak,  destitute,  defence- 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBU-iMAN. 


223 


losH,  prone  to  wander,  nnuhle  to  return,  nnd 
always  surroimded  with  woIveH.  But  a. I  in 
made  up  in  the  fulnew.'*,  ability,  wiwiorn, 
compassion,  care,  and  faithfidnesH  of  our 
great  Shepherd.  lie  guides,  protect.^,  feedH, 
heals,  an(l  restores,  and  will  be  our  gtiido 
and  our  (umI  even  until  death.  Then  ho 
will  meet  us,  receive;  us,  and  present  uh  unto 
himself,  and  we  shall  be  near  him,  and  like 
him,  and  with  him  for  ever. 

Ah  I  my  Lord,  what  a  subject  is  this!  I 
trust  it  is  lh(?  joy  of  your  heart.  Plac(.'d  as 
you  are  by  his  hand  in  a  superior  rank,  you 
see  and  feel  that  the  highest  honours,  and 
the  most  important  concernments  that  termi- 
nate with  the  present  lif(?,  are  trivial  as  the 
sports  of  cliildren  in  comparison  with  the 
views  and  the  privileges  you  derive  from  the 
glorious  gospel ;  and  your  situation  in  life 
renders  the  grace  bestowed  upon  you  the 
more  conspicuous  and  distinguishing.  1  have 
somewhere  met  with  a  similar  reflection  of 
Henry  IV.  of  France,  to  this  purpose,  that, 
though  many  came  into  the  world  the  same 
day  with  him,  he  was  probably  the  only  one 
among  tiicm  that  was  born  to  be  a  king. 
Your  Lordship  is  acquainted  with  many, 
who,  if  not  born  on  the  same  day  with  you, 
were  born  to  titles,  estates,  and  honours; 
but  how  few  of  them  were  born  to  the  honour 
of  making  a  public  and  consistent  profession 
of  the  glorious  gospel !  The  hour  is  coming, 
when  all  honours  and  possessions,  but  this 
which  Cometh  of  God  only,  will  be  eclip^^ed 
and  vanish,  and,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision,  leave  not  a  wreck  behind.  How 
miserable  will  they  tlien  be  who  must  lea\  e 
their  all!  What  a  mortifying  thought  doia 
Horace  put  in  the  way  of  those  who  disdain 
to  read  the  scriptures ! 

Linquenda  tellus,  et  domus,  ot  placens 
Uxor:  iicque  haruin, quas  colis,  arborum 
Te,  pnpter  invisas  cupressos, 
Ulla  brevein  dominum  sequetur. 

But  grace  and  faith  can  make  the  lowest 
state  of  life  supportable,  and  make  a  dismis- 
sion from  the  highest  desirable.  Of  the  for- 
mer I  have  many  living  proofs  and  witnesses 
around  me.  Your  Lordship,  I  trust,  will 
have  sweet  experience  of  tlie  latter,  when, 
afler  having  fulfilled  the  will  of  Cod  in  your 
generation,  you  shall  be  called  (I  hope  in 
some  yet  distant  day)  to  enter  into  your  Mas- 
ter's joy.  In  the  mean  time,  how  valuable 
are  life,  talents,  influence,  and  opportunities 
of  every  kind,  if  we  are  enabled  to  improve 
and  lay  out  all  for  him  who  hath  thus  loved 
us,  thus  provided  for  us?  As  to  myself,  I 
would  hope  there  are  few  who  have  so  clear 
a  sense  of  their  obligations  to  him,  who  make 
such  unsuitable  and  languid  returns  as  I  da 
I  think  I  have  a  desire  to  serve  him  better ; 
but,  alas!  evil  is  present  with  me.  Surely 
I  shall  feel  sometliinsr  like  shame  and  resrel 


2-24 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XVII. 


for  my  coldness,  even  in  heaven,  for  I  find  I 
am  never  happier  tlian  when  I  am  most 
ashamed  of  myself  upon  tliis  account  licre. — 
I  am,  <^c. 


LETTER  XVIL 

Decrrnber  8,  1774. 

MY  T-ORD, — How  wonderful  is  the  patience 
of  God  towards  sinful  men  !  In  liim  they 
live,  and  move,  and  have  their  being-,  and, 
if  he  were  to  withdraw  his  support  for  a 
single  moment,  they  must  perish.  He  main- 
tams  their  lives,  guards  their  persons,  sup- 
plies their  wants,  while  they  employ  tiie 
powers  and  faculties  they  receive  from  him 
in  a  settled  course  of  opposition  to  his  will. 
They  trample  upon  his  laws,  affront  his 
government,  and  despise  his  grace  ;  yet  still 
he  spares.  To  silence  all  his  adversaries  in 
a  moment  would  require  no  extraordinary 
exertion  of  his  power ;  but  his  forbearance 
towards  tiiem  manifests  his  glory,  and  gives 
us  cause  to  say.  Who  is  a  God  like  unto 
thee? 

Sometimes,  however,  there  are  striking  in- 
stances of  his  displeasure  against  sin.  When 
such  events  take  place,  immediately  upon  a 
public  and  premeditated  contempt  offered  to 
Him  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens,  I  own  they 
remind  me  of  the  danger  of  standing,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  in  the  Lord's  way ;  for  though 
his  long-sufiering  is  astonishing,  and  many 
dare  him  to  his  face  daily,  with  seeming  im- 
punity, yet  he  sometimes  strikes  an  awiul 
and  unexpected  blow,  and  gives  an  illustra- 
tion of  that  solemn  word,  "  Who  ever  har- 
dened himself  against  the  Lord  and  pros- 
pered ]"  But  how  am  I  to  make  this  ob- 
servation ]  I  ought  to  do  it  with  the  deepest 
humiliation,  remembering  that  I  once  stood, 
according  to  my  years  and  ability,  in  the 
foremost  rank  of  his  avowed  opposers,  and, 
with  a  determined  and  unwearied  enmity 
renounced,  defied,  and  blasphemed  him. 
"  But  he  will  have  mercy  on  whom  he  will 
have  mercy;"  and  therefore  I  was  spared, 
and  reserved  to  speak  of  his  goodness. 

Josephus,  when  speaking  of  the  death  of 
Hf^od  Agrippa,  ascribes  it  to  a  natural  cause, 
ana  says,  he  was  seized  with  excruciating 
pains  in  his  bowels.  But  Luke  informs  us 
of  the  true  cause:  an  angel  of  the  Lord  smote 
him.  Had  we  a  modern  history,  written  by 
an  inspired  pen,  we  should  probably  often  be 
rt  minded  of  such  an  interposition  where  we 
are  not  ordinarily  aware  of  it.  For  though 
the  springs  of  actions  and  events  are  conceal- 
ed from  us  for  the  most  part,  and  vain  men 
carry  on  their  scliemes  with  confidence,  as 
though  the  Lord  iiad  forsaken  the  earth,  yet 
1  hey  are  under  his  eye  and  control ;  and 
^aith,  in  some  measure,  instructed  by  the 


specimens  of  his  government  recorded  in  the 
.'Scriptures,  can  trace  and  admire  his  hand,  and 
can  see  how  he  takes  the  wise  in  their  own 
craftiness,  stains  tlie  pride  of  liuman  glory; 
and  tiiat  when  sinners  speak  proudly,  he  is 
above  them,  and  makes  every  thing  bend  or 
break  before  him. 

While  we  lament  the  growth  and  f>emi- 
cious  effects  of  infidelity,  and  see  how  wicked 
men  and  seducers  wax  worse  and  worse,  de- 
ceiving, and  being  deceived;  what  gratitude 
should  fill  our  hearts  to  him,  who  has  been 
pleased  to  call  us  out  of  the  horrid  darkness 
in  which  multitudes  are  bewildered  and  lost, 
into  the  glorious  light  of  his  gospel !  Faint 
are  our  warmest  conceptions  of  this  mercy. 
In  order  to  understand  it  fully,  we  should 
have  a  full  and  adequate  sense  of  the  evil  from 
which  we  are  delivered;  the  glory  to  which 
we  are  called ;  and  especially,  of  the  astonish- 
ing means  to  which  we  owe  our  life  and  hope 
the  humiliation,  suflTerings,  and  death  of  the 
Son  of  God.  But  our  views  of  these  points 
while  in  our  present  state,  are  and  must  bt- 
exceedingly  weak  and  disproportionate.  We 
know  them  but  in  part,  we  see  them  ?•  £r=:rTe5u, 
by  reflection,  rather  the  images  than  the  things 
themselves;  and  though  they  are  faithfully 
represented  in  the  mirror  of  God's  word,  to 
us  they  appear  indistinct,  because  we  see 
them  through  a  gross  medium  of  ignorance 
and  unbelief  Hereafter  every  vail  shall  be 
removed  ;  we  shall  know,  in  another  manner 
than  we  do  now,  the  unspeakable  evil  of  sin, 
and  the  insupportable  dreadfulness  of  God's 
displeasure  against  it,  when  we  see  the  world 
in  flames,  and  hear  the  final  sentence  de- 
nounced upon  the  ungodly.  We  shall  have 
far  other  thoughts  of  Jesus  when  we  see  him  J 
as  he  is:  and  shall  then  be  able  to  make  a  '% 
more  affecting  estimate  of  the  love  which 
moved  him  to  be  made  a  substitute  and  a 
curse  for  us :  and  we  shall  then  know  what 
great  things  God  has  prepared  for  them  that 
love  him.  Then  with  transport,  we  shall 
adopt  the  queen  of  Shcba's  language.  It  was 
a  true  report  we  heard  in  yonder  dark  world ; 
but,  behold,  the  half,  the  thousandth  part, 
was  not  told  us !  In  the  mean  time,  may 
such  conceptions  as  we  are  enabled  to  form 
of  these  great  truths,  fill  our  hearts,  and  be 
mingled  with  all  our  thoughts,  and  all  our 
concerns;  may  the  Lord,  by  faith,  give  us  an 
abiding  evidence  of  the  reality  and  import- 
ance of  the  things  which  cannot  yet  be  seen ; 
so  shall  we  be  enabled  to  live  above  the  world 
while  we  are  in  it,  uninfluenced  either  by  its 
blandishments  or  its  frowns;  and,  with  a 
noble  siniplicity  and  singularity,  avow  and 
maintain  the  cause  of  God  in  truth,  in  the 
midst  of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation. 
He  whom  we  serve  is  able  to  support  and 
protect  us;  and  he  well  deserves  at  cur  hands, 
that  we  should  be  willing  to  endure,  for  his 
sake,  much  more  than  he  will  ever  permit  us 


iirr.  XVIII.] 


LKTTF.IIS  TO  A  NOBLKMAN. 


to  bo  ox««rciseil  with.  Tho  boliovor's  call, 
duty,  an  1  pnvilojjr,  is  bi*aulit'iilly  and  torri- 
bly  sot  torth  in  Milton'.-i  cliaraclcr  ul*  Abiliol, 
at'tlic  onil  of  the  litlh  hook  : 


-ruillifiil  louiid 


Aim)tii»  the  rmililcss.  linihriil  only  ho, 

Aiiumi;  iiuiiitiDTiiltlo  liilso;  uiiinov'J, 

UiLsliiilviMi.  iiiisi-iliu'M,  iiiilrrriiicd, 

His  Itiyalty  lie  Urpt,  Ins  love.  Ins  zohI  : 

IV'or  iiiiiuImt,  nor  «'\ainjilf,  willi  liiiii  wnxisjht 

ToswtTVo  InMii  truth, or  clmngohi-sroiisluiil  iiiiiiil 

Though  single 

Methinks  yoitr  Lortlship's  situation  parti- 
cularly roj*onibles  that  in  which  the  poot  has 
placed  Ahiliol.  Vou  are  not,  indeed,  called 
to  servo  (lod  quite  alone  ;  hut  ainonfj^st  those 
of  your  owti  rank,  and  with  whom,  the  sta- 
tioti  in  which  he  has  placed  you,  necessitates 
you  to  converse,  how  few  are  there  who  can 
understand,  second,  or  approve,  the  principles 
upon  which  you  act,  or  easily  bear  a  conduct 
which  nuist  nnpress  conviction,  or  reflect  dis- 
honour upon  themselves  !  But  you  are  not 
alone  ;  tlie  Lord's  people  (many  of  whom 
you  will  not  know  till  you  meet  tliem  in  glo- 
ry) are  helpinij  you  here  with  their  prayers; 
his  angels  are  commissioned  to  guard  and 
guide  your  steps;  yea,  the  Lord  himself 
fixes  his  eye  of  mercy  upon  your  private  and 
your  public  path,  and  is  near  you  at  your  right 
hand,  that  you  may  not  be  moved.  That  ho 
may  comfort  you  with  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance, and  uphold  you  with  the  arm  of  his 
power,  is  my  frequent  prayer. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XVIIL 

January  20,  1775. 
MY  LORD, — We  have  entered  upon  another 
year.  So  have  thousands,  perhaps  millions, 
who  will  not  see  it  close.  An  alarming 
thought  to  the  worldling !  at  least  it  should 
be  so.  I  have  an  imperfect  remembrance  of 
an  account  I  read  when  I  was  a  boy,  of  an 
ice-palace,  built  one  winter  at  Petersburg!!. 
The  walls,  the  roof,  the  floors,  the  furniture, 
were  all  of  ice,  but  finished  with  taste ;  and 
overy  thing  that  might  be  expected  in  a  royal 
palace  was  to  be  Ibund  there ;  the  ice,  while 
in  the  state  of  v/ater,  being  previously  co- 
loured, so  that  to  the  eye  all  seemed  formed 
of  proper  materials:  but  all  was  cold,  useless, 
and  transient.  Had  the  frost  continued  till 
now,  the  palace  might  have  been  standing ; 
but  with  the  returning  spring  it  melted  away, 
Iik.e  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision.  Methinks 
there  should  have  been  one  stone  in  the 
building,  to  have  retained  the  inscription,  Sic- 
transit  gloria  miindi!  for  no  contrivance 
could  exhibit  a  fitter  illustration  of  the  vanity 
of  human  life.  Men  build  and  plan  as  if  their 
works  were  to  endure  for  ever;  but  the  wind 
passes  over  them,  and  they  are  gone.  In  the 
2  F 


midst  of  all  their  proparntionH,  or  at  fnrlhcft, 
when  Ihoy  think  tln-y  liuvo  juHt  tomplrlnd 
their  designs,  thi-ir  breath  go<'th  forth,  Ih^y 
return  to  ihcir  earth;  m  tiiat  very  day  their 
thoughts  perish. 

Mow  many  sloop  wlio  kept  the  world  awake? 

Vet  this  iro-hotiso  had  something  of  a  lei- 
surely dissolution,  though,  wheti  it  began  to 
d(?c:ty,  all  the  art  of  man  was  unable  to  prop 
it:  but  often  d(>ath  comes  hastily,  and,  like 
the  springing  of  a  mine,  destroys  to  the  very 
foundations,  without  previous  notice.  Then 
all  we  have  been  concerned  in  here  (all  but 
the  conse(iuences  of  our  conduct,  which  will 
abide  to  eternity)  will  be  no  more  to  us  than 
the  remembrance  of  a  dream.  This  truth  ia 
too  plain  to  be  denied;  but  the  greater  part 
of  mankind  act  as  if  they  were  convinced  it 
was  false :  they  spend  their  days  in  vanity, 
and  in  a  moment  they  go  down  to  the  grave. 
What  cause  of  thankfulness  have  they  who 
are  delivered  from  this  delusion,  and  who,  by 
the  knowledge  of  the  glorious  gospel,  have 
learned  their  true  stiite  and  end,  are  saved 
froin  the  love  of  the  present  world,  from  the 
heart-<listressing  fear  of  death  ;  and  know, 
that  if  their  earthly  house  were  dissolved, 
like  the  ice-palace,  they  have  a  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens! 

Yet  even  these  are  much  concerned  to  rea- 
lize the  brevity  and  uncertainty  of  their  pre- 
sent state,  that  they  may  be  stimulated  to 
make  the  most  and  the  best  of  it;  to  redeem 
their  time,  and  manage  their  precarious  op- 
portunities, so  as  may  most  tend  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  him  who  has  called  them  out  of 
darkness  into  marvellous  light.  Why  should 
any  that  have  tasted  that  the  Lord  is  gracious 
wish  to  live  another  day,  but  that  they  may 
have  the  honour  to  be  fellow-workers  with 
him,  instrumental  in  promoting  his  designs, 
and  of  laying  themselves  out  to  the  utmost  of 
their  abilities  and  influence  in  his  service? 
To  enjoy  a  sense  of  his  loving-kindness,  and 
to  have  the  light  of  his  countenance  lifted  up 
upon  our  souls,  is  indeed,  respecting  ourselves, 
the  best  part  of  life,  yea,  better  than  life  it- 
solf;  but  this  we  shall  have  to  unspeakably 
greater  advantage,  when  we  have  finished  our 
course,  and  shall  be  wholly  freed  from  the 
body  of  sin.  And  therefore,  the  great  desi- 
rable while  here,  seems  to  be  grace,  that  we 
may  serve  him  and  sutler  for  hiin  in  the  world. 
Though  our  first  wish  immediately  upon  our 
own  accounts  might  be,  to  depart  and  be  with 
Jesus,  which  is  ^y^^K^,  xkkovu  x<;..to-.v,  yet  a 
lively  thought  of  our  immense  obliirations  to 
his  redeeming  love,  may  reconcile  us  to  a 
much  longer  continuance  here,  if  we  may  by 
any  means  be  subservient  to  dilfuse  the  glory 
of  his  name,  and  the  blessings  of  his  salva- 
tion, which  is  God's  great  and  principle  end 
in  preserving  the  world  itself.  When  histo- 
rians and  politicians  descant  upon  the  rise  and 


226 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


fall  of  empires,  with  all  their  professed  saga- 
city, in  tracing  the  connection  between  causes 
and  effects,  they  are  totally  unacquainted  with 
the  great  master-wheel  which  manages  the 
whole  movement,  that  is,  the  Ix)rd's  design 
in  favour  of  his  church  and  kingdom.  To 
this  every  event  is  subordinate ;  to  this  every 
interfering  interest  must  stoop.  How  easily 
might  this  position  be  proved,  by  reviewing 
the  history  of  the  period  about  the  Reforma- 
tion. Whether  Dr.  Robertson  considers 
things  in  this  light,  in  his  history  of  Charles  V. 
I  know  not,  as  1  have  not  seen  liis  books ; 
but  if  not,  however  elaborate  his  performance 
may  be  in  other  respects,  I  must  venture  to 
say,  it  is  essentially  defective,  and  cannot  give 
that  light  and  pleasure  to  a  spiritual  reader  of 
which  the  subject  is  capable.  And  I  doubt 
not,  that  some  who  are  yet  unborn  will  here- 
after clearly  see  and  remark,  that  the  present 
unhappy  disputes  between  Great  Britain  and 
America,  with  their  consequences,  whatever 
they  may  be,  are  part  of  a  series  of  events,  of 
which  the  extension  and  interests  of  the  church 
of  Christ  were  the  principal  final  causes.  In 
a  word,  that  Jesus  may  be  known,  trusted, 
and  adored,  and  sinners,  by  the  power  of  his 
gospel,  be  rescued  from  sin  and  Satan,  is 
comparatively,  the  t:  .m,  the  one  great  busi- 
ness, for  the  sake  of  which  the  succession  of 
day  and  night,  summer  and  winter,  is  still 
maintained ;  and  when  the  plan  of  redemp- 
tion is  consummated,  sin,  w^hich  now  almost 
fills  the  earth,  will  then  set  it  on  fire ;  and 
the  united  interest  of  all  the  rest  of  mankind, 
when  detached  from  that  of  the  people  of 
God,  will  not  plead  for  its  preservation  a  sin- 
gle day.  In  this  view,  I  congratulate  your 
Lordship,  that  however  your  best  endeavours 
to  serve  the  temporal  interests  of  the  nation 
may  fall  short  of  your  wishes;  yet,  so  far  as 
your  situation  gives  you  opportunity  of  sup- 
porting the  gospel-cause,  and  facilitating  its 
progress,  you  have  a  prospect  both  of  a  more 
certain  and  more  important  success.  For 
instance,  it  was,  under  God,  your  Lordship's 
favour  and  influence  that  brought  me  into 
the  ministry.  And  though  I  be  nothing,  yet 
he  w^ho  put  it  into  your  heart  to  patronise 
me  has  been  pleased  not  to  suffer  what  you 
then  did  for  his  sake  to  be  wholly  in  vain.  He 
has  been  pleased,  in  a  course  of  years,  by  so 
unworthy  an  instrument  as  I  am,  to  awaken 
a  number  of  persons,  who  were  at  that  time 
dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;  but  now  some  of 
them  are  pressing  on  to  the  prize  of  their  high 
calling  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  some  of  them 
are  already  before  the  throne.  Should  I  sug- 
gest in  some  companies,  that  the  conversion 
of  a  hundred  sinners  (more  or  less)  to  God, 
is  an  event  of  more  real  importance  than  the 
temporal  prosperity  of  the  greatest  nation  up- 
on earth,  I  should  be  charged  with  ignorance 
and  arro:::^nce  ;  but  your  Lordship  is  skilled 
in  scriptural  arithmetic,  which  alone  can  teach 


[let.  xix^ 

j  us  to  estimate  the  value  of  souls,  and  wilt 
agree  with  me,  that  one  soul  is  worth  more 
than  the  whole  world,  on  account  of  its  re- 
demption-price, its  vast  capacities,  and  its 
duration.  Should  we  suppose  a  nation  to 
consist  of  forty  millions,  the  whole  and  each 
individuLl  to  enjoy  as  much  good  as  this  life 
can  afford,  without  abatement,  for  a  term  of 
fifty  years  each ;  all  this  good,  or  an  equal 
quantity,  might  be  e.xhausted  by  a  single  per- 
son in  two  thousand  millions  of  years,  which 
would  be  but  a  moment  in  comparison  of  the 
eternity  which  would  still  follow,  and  if  this 

j  good  were  merely  temporal  good,  the  whole' 
aggregate  of  it  would  be  evil  and  misery,  if 
compared  with  that  happiness  in  God,  of 
which  only  they  w-ho  are  made  partakers  of 
a  divine  life  are  capable.  On  the  other  hand, 
were  a  whole  nation  to  be  destroyed  by  such 
accumulated  miseries  as  attended  the  siege 
of  Jerusalem,  the  sum  total  of  these  calami- 
ties would  be  but  triffing,  if  set  in  competi- 
tion with  what  every  single  person  that  dies 
in  sin  has  to  expect,  when  the  sentence  of 
everlasting  destruction  from  the  presence  of 
tlie  Lord,  and  the  glory  of  his  power,  shall 
be  executed. 

What  an  unexpected  round  have  my 
thouglits  taken  since  I  set  out  from  the  ice- 
palace?  It  is  time  to  relieve  your  Lordship, 
and  to  subscribe  mvself,  &:c. 


LETTER  XLX. 

February  23,  1775. 
MY  LORD, — I  assent  to  our  Lord's  declara-^ 
tion,  "  Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing,"  not 
only  upon  the  authority  of  the  speaker,  but 
from  the  same  irresistible  and  experimental 
evidence,  as  if  he  had  told  me,  that  I  cannot 
make  the  sun  to  shine,  or  change  the  course 
of  the  seasons.  Though  my  pen  and  my 
tongue  sometimes  move  freely,  yet  the  total 
incapacity  and  stagnation  of  thought  I  labour 
under  at  other  times,  convinces  me,  that,  in 
myself,  I  have  not  sufficiency  to  think  a  good 
thought;  and,  I  believe  the  case  would  be 
the  same,  if  that  little  measure  of  knowledge 
and  abilities,  which  I  am  too  prone  to  look 
upon  as  my  own,  were  a  thousand  times 
greater  than  it  is.  For  every  new  service  I 
stand  in  need  of  a  new  supply,  and  can  bring 
forth  nothing  of  my  supposed  store  into  ac- 
tual exercise,  but  by  his  immediate  assist- 
ance. His  gracious  influence  is  that  to  those 
who  are  best  furnished  with  gifts,  which  the 
water  is'  to  the  mill,  or  the  wind  to  the  ship, 
without  which  the  whole  apparatus  is  motion- 
less and  useless.  I  apprehend  that  we  lose 
I  much  of  the  comfort  which  might  arise  from 
I  a  sense  of  our  continual  dependence  upon 
I  him,  and  of  course  fall  short  of  acknowledg- 
i  ing,  as  we  ought,  what  we  receive  from  him^ 


LET.  XIX.] 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOllLEMAN. 


227 


by  mistakiiij,'  tho  inaimcr  of  his  ()|K'rntion. 
Perhaps  wr  Uiko  it  tm)  much  for  •jnmtfd, 
timt  coiumuuioatioiis  from  himsolt'imist  lK>ar 
soino  kind  of  sonsihh*  iiiipri's^ion  that  tliov 
are  his,  aiul  therefore  are  ready  to  fjive  mir 
own  industry  or  iii<»'enuity  credit  for  those 
perfornmnces  in  whicli  we  can  jwrceive  no 
such  iinpresi-ion ;  yet  it  is  very  jK>ssihle  that 
we  may  be  under  his  influence  when  we 
are  least  aware  of  it ;  and  thoutrh  what  we 
aay,  or  write,  or  do,  may  seem  no  way  ex- 
traordinary, yet  that  we  should  bo  led  to 
such  a  particular  turn  of  thouirht  at  one  tinK? 
rather  than  at  another,  has,  in  my  own  con- 
cerns, oflen  appeared  to  me  remarkable,  from 
tho  circmnstances  which  have  attended,  or 
tlie  consequences  which  have  followed.  How 
of\en,  in  the  choice  of  a  text,  or  in  the  course 
of  a  sermon,  or  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  have 
I  been  led  to  speak  a  word  in  season !  and 
what  I  have  expressed  at  larfje,  and  in  gene- 
ral, has  been  so  exactly  suited  to  some  case 
which  I  was  utterly  unacquainted  witli,  that 
I  could  hardly  have  hit  it  so  well,  had  I  been 
previously  informed  of  it.  Some  instances 
of  this  kind  have  been  so  strikin<T,  as  hardly 
to  admit  a  doubt  of  superior  ajjency.  And 
indeed,  if  believers  in  Jesus,  however  un- 
worthy in  themselves,  are  the  temples  of  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  if  the  l^rd  lives,  dwells,  and 
walks  in  them ;  if  he  is  their  life  and  their 
light ;  if  he  has  promised  to  guide  them  with 
his  eye,  and  to  work  in  them  both  to  will 
and  to  do  of  his  own  good  pleasure, — me- 
thinks  what  I  have  mentioned,  and  more, 
may  be  reasonably  expected.  That  line  in 
the  hymn, 

Help  I  everj'  moment  need, 

is  not  a  hyperbolical  expression,  but  strictly 
and  literally  true,  not  only  in  great  emergen- 
cies, but  in  our  smoother  hours,  and  most  fa- 
miliar paths.  This  gracious  assistance  is  af- 
forded in  a  way  imperceptible  to  ourselves, 
to  hide  pride  from  us,  and  to  prevent  us  from 
being  indolent  and  careless  with  respect  to 
the  use  of  appointed  means  ;  and  it  would  be 
likewise  more  abundantly,  and  perhaps  more 
sensibly  afforded,  were  our  spirits  more 
simple  in  waiting  upon  the  Lord.  But  alas ! 
a  divided  heart,  an  undue  attachment  to  some 
temporal  object,  sadly  deaden  our  spirits  (I 
speak  for  myself,)  and  grieves  the  Lord's 
Spirit ;  so  that  we  walk  in  darkness  and  at  a 
distance,  and  though  called  to  great  privi- 
leges, live  far  below  them.  But  methinks 
the  thought  of  him  who  is  always  near,  and 
upon  whom  we  do  and  must  incessantly  de- 
pend, should  suggest  a  powerful  motive  for 
the  closest  attention  to  his  revealed  will,  and 
the  most  punctual  compliance  with  it ;  for  so 
far  as  the  Lord  withdraws  we  become  as 
blind  men,  and  with  the  clearest  light,  and 
upon  the  plainest  ground,  we  are  liable,  or 
rather  sure,  to  stumble  at  every  step. 


Though  there  i.s  a  principle  of  rorihcioua- 
ncss  and  a  determination  of  the  will,  hufll- 
cient  to  denominate  our  thoiightH  and  jxt- 
formances  our  own,  yet  I  Ix-lieve  mankind 
in  general  arc  more  under  an  invisible 
agency  than  they  apprehend.  'I'hr  I»rd, 
immediately  froni  himself,  and  |)erhapH  by 
the  ministry  of  the  holy  angels,  guides, 
prompt.s,  restrains,  or  warns  his  peoj)le.  So 
there  undoubtedly  is  what  I  may  call  a  black 
inspiration,  the  influence  of  the  evil  spirits 
who  work  in  the  hearts  of  the  disobedient, 
and  not  only  excite  their  wills,  but  assist 
their  faculties,  and  qualify  as  well  as  incline 
them  to  be  more  assiduously  wicked,  and 
more  extensively  mischievous,  than  they 
could  be  of  themselves.  I  consider  Voltaire, 
for  instance,  and  many  writers  of  the  same 
stamp,  to  be  little  more  than  secretaries  and 
amanuenses  of  one  who  has  unspeakably 
more  wit  and  adroitness  in  promoting  infi- 
delity and  immorality,  than  they  of  them- 
selves can  justly  pretend  to.  They  have,  for 
a  while  the  credit  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  of  the 
fund  from  whence  they  draw ;  but  the  world 
little  imagines  who  is  the  real  and  original 
author  of  that  philosophy  and  poetry,  of  tnose 
fine  turns  and  sprightly  inventions,  which 
are  so  generally  admired.  Perhaps  many, 
now  applauded  for  their  genius,  would  have 
been  comparatively  dolts,  had  they  not  been 
engaged  in  a  cause  which  Satan  has  so  muck 
interest  in  supporting. 

But  to  return  to  the  more  pleasing  sub- 
ject. How  great  and  honourable  is  the  pri- 
vilege of  a  true  believer !  That  he  has  neither 
wisdom  nor  strength  in  himself  is  no  disad- 
vantage ;  for  he  is  connected  with  infinite 
wisdom  and  almighty  power.  Though  weak 
as  a  worm,  his  arms  are  strengthened  by  the 
mighty  God  of  Jacob,  and  all  things  become 
possible,  yea  easy,  to  him,  that  occur  within 
the  compass  of  his  proper  duty  and  calling. 
The  Lord  whom  he  serves,  engages  to  pro- 
portion his  strength  to  his  day,  whether  it  be 
a  day  of  service  or  of  sufTcring ;  and  though  he 
be  fallible  and  short-sighted,  exceeding  liable 
to  mistake  and  imposition,  yet,  while  he  re- 
tains a  sense  that  he  is  so,  and,  with  the  sim- 
plicity of  a  child,  asks  counsel  and  direction 
of  the  Lord,  he  seldom  takes  a  wrong  step, 
at  least  not  in  matters  of  consequence,  and 
even  his  inadvertencies  are  over-ruled  for 
good.  If  he  forgets  his  true  state,  and  thinks 
himself  to  be  something,  he  presently  finds 
he  is  indeed  nothing ;  but  if  he  is  content  to 
be  nothing  and  to  have  nothing,  he  is  sure  to 
find  a  seasonable  and  abundant  communica- 
tion of  all  that  he  wants.  Thus  he  lives,  like 
Israel  in  the  wilderness,  upon  niere  bounty ; 
but  then  it  is  a  bounty  unchangeable,  un- 
wearied, inexhaustible,  and  all-sufiicient. 
Moses,  when  speaking  of  the  methods  the 
Lord  took  to  humble  Israel,  mentions  his 
feeding  them  with  manna  as  one  method.    I 


223 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLExMAN. 


[let. 


could  not  understand  tliis  for  a  time.  I 
thouglit  thoy  were  rather  in  danf^er  of  being 
proud,  when  tiioy  8aw  themselves  provided 
for  in  such  an  extraordinary  way.  But  the 
manna  would  not  icecp;  they  could  not  hoard 
it  up,  and  were  therefore  in  a  state  of  abso- 
lute dependence  from  day  to  day.  Tiiis  ap- 
pointment was  well  suited  to  liumble  them. 
Thus  it  is  with  us  in  spirituals.  VVc  should 
be  better  pleased,  perhaps,  to  be  set  up  with 
a  stock  or  sufficiency  at  once, — such  an  in- 
herent j)ortion  of  wisdom  and  power,  as  we 
mijTfht  depend  upon,  at  least  for  common  oc- 
casions, without  beinor  constrained  by  a  sense 
of  indigence,  to  have  continual  recourse  to 
the  Lord  for  every  thing  we  want.  But  his 
way  is  best.  His  own  glory  is  most  dis- 
played, and  our  safety  most  secured,  by  keep- 
ing us  quite  poor  and  empty  in  ourselves, 
and  supplying  us  from  one  minute  to  another, 
according  to  our  need.  This,  if  any  thing, 
will  prevent  boasting,  and  keep  a  sense  of 
gratitude  awake  in  our  hearts.  This  is  well 
adapted  to  quicken  us  in  prayer,  and  fur- 
nishes us  with  a  thousand  occasions  for 
praise  which  would  otherwise  escape  our 
notice. 

But  who  or  what  are  we,  that  the  Most 
High  should  thus  notice  us !  should  visit  us 
every  mornmsi".  and  water  us  every  moment ! 
It  is  an  astonishmg  thought,  that  God  should 
thus  dwell  with  men  !  that  he,  before  whom 
the  mightiest  earthly  potentates  are  less 
than  nothing,  and  vanity,  should  thus  stoop 
and  accommodate  himself  to  the  situation, 
wants,  and  capacities  of  the  weakest,  mean- 
est, and  poorest  of  his  children  I  But  so"  it 
hath  pleased  mm.  He  seeth  not  as  man 
eeeth. — 1  am.  &;c. 


LETTER  XX. 

August  — 1775. 
MY  LORD. — I  have  no  apt  preface  or  in- 
troduction at  hand :  and  as  I  have  made  it 
almost  a  rule  not  to  study  for  what  I  should 
offer  your  Ix)rdship.  1  therefore  beg  leave  to 
begin  abruptly.  It  is  the  future  promised 
privilege  of  believers  in  Jesus,  that  they 
shall  be  as  the  angels ;  and  there  is  a  sense 
m  which  we  should  endeavour  to  be  as  the 
angels  now.  This  is  intimated  to  us  where 
we  are  taught  to  pray,  "  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven."  I  iiave  some- 
times amused  myself  with  supposing  an 
angel  should  be  appointed  to  reside  a  while 
upon  earth  in  a  human  body ;  not  in  sinful 
flesh,  like  ours,  but  in  a  body  free  from  in- 
firmity, and  still  perceiving  an  unabated 
sense  of  his  own  happiness  in  tlie  fivour  of 
God,  and  of  his  unspeakable  obligation  to  his 
g'(X)dness ;  and  then  I  have  tried  to  judge,  as 
well  as  1  could,  how  such  an  angel  would  com- 


port himself  in  such  a  situation.  I  know  not 
that  I  ever  enlarged  upon  the  thought,  either 
in  preaching  or  writing.  Permit  me  to 
follow  it  a  little  in  this  paper. 

Were  I  acquainted  with  this  heavenly  visit- 
ant, I  am  willing  to  hope  I  should  greatly  reve- 
rence him;  and,  if  permitted,  be  glad,  in  some 
cases,  to  consult  him:  in  some,  but  not  in  all; 
for  I  think  my  fear  would  be  equal  to  my 
love.  Methinks  I  could  never  venture  to  open 
my  heart  freely  to  him,  and  unfold  to  him  my 
numbcrles*  complaints  and  infirmities;  for,  aa 
he  could  have  no  experience  of  the  like  things 
himself,  I  should  suppose  he  would  not  know 
how  fully  to  pity  me,  indeed  hardly  how  to 
bear  with  me,  if  I  told  him  all.  Alas!  what 
a  preposterous,  strange,  vile  creature  should  I 
appear  to  an  angel,  if  he  knew  me  as  I  am  ! 
It  is  well  for  me  that  Jesus  was  made  lower 
than  the  angels,  and  that  the  human  nature 
he  assumed  w^as  not  distinct  from  the  common 
nature  of  mankind,  though  secured  from  the 
comm-^n  depravity ;  and  because  he  submit- 
ted to  be  under  the  law  in  our  name  and 
stead,  though  he  was  free  from  sin  himself, 
yet  sin  and  its  consequences  being,  for  our 
sakes,  charged  upon  him,  he  acquired,  in  the 
days  of  his  humiliation,  an  experimental  sym- 
pathy with  his  poor  people.  He  luiows  the 
effects  of  sin  and  temptation  upon  us,  by  that 
knowledge  whereby  he  knows  all  things;  but 
he  knows  them  likewise  in  a  way  more  suit- 
able for  our  comfort  and  relief,  by  the  suffer- 
ings and  exercises  he  passed  through  for  us. 
Hence  arises  encouragement.  We  have  not 
an  high  priest  who  cannot  be  touched  with  a 
feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in  all  pomta 
tempted  even  as  we  are.  When  I  add  to  this, 
the  consideration  of  his  power,  promises,  and 
grace,  and  that  he  is  exalted  on  purpose  to 
pity,  relieve,  and  save,  I  gather  courage.  With 
him  I  dare  be  free,  and  am  not  sorry,  but 
glad,  tliat  he  knows  me  perfectly,  that  not  a 
thought  of  my  heart  is  hidden  from  him.  For 
without  this  infinite  and  exact  knowledge  of 
my  disease,  how'  could  he  effectually  adminis- 
ter to  my  cure] — But  whither  am  I  ram- 
bling? I  seem  to  have  lost  sight  of  the  angel 
already.  I  am  now  coming  back,  that  if  he 
cannot  effectually  pity  me,  he  may  at  least 
animate  and  teach  me. 

In  the  first  place,  I  take  it  for  granted  this 
angel  would  think  himself  a  stranger  and  pil- 
grim upon  earth.  He  would  not  forget  that 
his  -=>-i7.-v.ua*  was  in  heaven.  Surely  he  would 
look  upon  all  the  bustle  of  human  life  (far- 
ther than  the  design  of  his  mission  might  con- 
nect him  with  it)  with  more  indilference  than 
we  look  Upon  the  sports  of  children,  or  the 
amusements  of  idiots  and  lunatics,  which  giv^e 
us  an  uneasiness,  ratker  than  excite  a  desire 
of  joining  in  them.  He  would  judge  of  every 
thing  around  him  by  the  reference  and  ten- 


*  Citizenship,  or  conversatiou. 


Lrr.  XXI.] 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


229 


ilcncy  it  hml  tn  promote  tho  will  of  him  tliut 
H'tit  liim;  mid  l\w  iiKwt  sjhmmous  or  Hplciidid 
a|)i»tviraiiot>s,  oonsidt»r«\l  in  luiy  other  view, 
\vi»iild  made  no  iiuprossiou  ii|X)n  him. 

C'oMsrcjiuMjtly,  as  to  iiis  own  rotiocnunont, 
nil  his  aim  ami  d.'siri'  would  \h\  to  Inllil  ihc 
will  ot*(u)d.  All  siliiutions  would  be  alike  to 
hill) ;  whother  ho  was  commanded,  as  in  the 
caso  of  Sennacherib,  to  destroy  a  mi^jhty  army 
with  a  stroke;  or,  lus  in  the  vase:  of  lla«jar, 
to  attend  upon  n  woman,  a  servant,  n  slave; 
lH)lh  services  woulil  bo  to  him  equally  ho- 
nourabio  and  imi)ortant,  because  lie  was  in 
b<.)th  eipially  pleasinir  his  Ix)rd,  which  would 
bo  his  olomtMit  and  his  joy,  whether  ho  was 
appointed  to  L'"uido  the  reins  of  empire,  or  to 
sweep  tho  streets. 

Asjuin,  the  anijel  would  doubtless  exhibit  a 
gtrikin<T  example  of  benevolence;  for,  beinir 
free  from  selfisli  bias,  tilled  with  a  sense  of 
the  love  of  God,  and  a  knowlcdi^e  of  his 
adorable  perfections,  his  whole  heart,  and  soul, 
and  strength,  would  bo  eng'ag'ed  and  exerted 
both  from  duty  and  inclination,  to  relieve  the 
miseries,  and  advance  the  happiness  of  all 
around  him  :  and  in  this  he  would  follow  the 
pattern  of  him  who  doth  g-ood  to  all,  com- 
mandin<T  his  sun  to  rise,  and  his  rain  to  fall, 
upon  the  just  and  the  unjust ;  thoug-h,  from 
the  same  pattern,  he  would  show  an  especial 
ren^ard  to  the  household  of  faith.  An  annfel 
would  take  but  little  part  in  the  controver- 
sies, contentions,  and  broils,  which  mitrht 
haj)i)en  in  the  time  of  his  sojourning-  here, 
but  would  bo  a  friend  to  all,  so  far  as  con- 
sistent with  the  g-eneral  good. 

The  will  and  glory  of  God  being  the  an- 
grel's  great  view,  and  having  a  more  lively 
sense  of  the  realities  of  an  unseen  world  than 
we  can  at  present  conceive,  he  would  cer- 
tainly, in  the  first  and  chief  place,  have  the 
success  and  spread  of  the  glorious  gospel  at 
heart.  Angels,  though  not  redeemed  with 
blood,  yet  feel  themselves  nearly  concerned 
in  the  work  of  redemption.  They  admire  its 
mysteries.  We  may  suppose  them  well  in- 
formed in  the  works  of  creation  and  provi- 
dence. But,  unlike  to  many  men,  who  are 
satisfied  with  the  knowledge  of  astronomy, 
mathematics,  or  history,  they  search  and  pry 
into  the  counsels  of  redeeming  love,  rejoice  at 
the  conversion  of  a  sinner,  and  think  them- 
selves well  employed  to  be  ministering  spirits, 
to  minister  to  the  heirs  of  salvation.  It  would 
therefore  be  his  chief  delight  to  espouse  and 
promote  their  cause,  and  to  employ  all  his 
talents  and  influence  in  spreading  the  favour 
and  knowledge  of  the  name  of  Jesus,  which 
is  the  only  and  eflectual  means  of  bringing 
sinners  out  of  bondage  and  darkness  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God. 

Lastly,  though  his  zeal  for  the  glory  of  his 
Lord  would  make  him  willing  to  continue 
here  till  he  had  finished  the  work  given  him 
to  dOi  he  would,  I  am  persuaded,  look  for- 


ward with  desire  t(i  i  III- n|i;>Mitil<'il  niom'-nt  of 
his  n'cal,  that  he  might  be  fri-ed  from  lnhold- 
ing  and  mixing  with  the  hin  and  vanity  of 
th(»s(!  who  know  not  (umI,  render  hlMnrrount 
with  joy,  and  be  welcomed  to  iM-aven  with  a 
"  \V(dl  done,  good  and  faithful  Horvant," 
Surely  hv  wonhl  long  for  this,  as  a  lal)ourer 
for  the  setting  sun  ;  and  would  not  form  any 
(•onneetion  with  the  things  of  lime,  which 
should  prompt  him  to  wish  his  removal  pro- 
tracted for  a  single  hour  beyond  the  periol 
of  his  proscribed  service. 

Alas,  why  am  I  not  more  like  an  angon 
My  views,  in  my  bettor  judgment,  are  the 
same.  My  motives  and  obligations  are  oven 
stronger;  an  angel  is  not  so  deeply  indebted 
to  the  grace  of  God,  as  a  belioMng  sinner, 
who  was  once  upon  the  brink  of  destruction, 
who  has  been  redeemed  with  blotxl,  and  might 
justly  have  boon,  before  now,  shut  up  with 
the  powers  of  darkness  without  hope.  Yet 
the  merest  trifles  are  sufficient  to  debase  my 
views,  damp  my  activity,  and  impede  my  en- 
deavours in  tho  Lord's  service,  though  I  pro- 
fess to  have  no  other  end  or  desire  which 
can  make  a  continuance  in  life  worthy  my 
wish. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  XXr. 

November  —  1775. 

MY  LORD, — Dum  loquimur  tempus  fit  git. 
In  the  midst  of  the  hurries  and  changes  of 
this  unsettled  state,  we  glide  along  swiftly 
towards  an  unchangeable  world,  and  shall 
soon  have  as  little  connection  with  the  scenes 
we  are  now  passing  through  as  we  have  with 
what  happened  before  the  flood.  All  that 
appears  great  and  interesting  in  the  present 
life,  abstracted  from  its  influence  upon  our 
internal  character,  and  our  everlasting  al- 
lotment, will  soon  be  as  unreal  as  the  visions 
of  the  night.  This  we  know  and  confess; 
but  though  our  judgments  are  convinced,  it 
is  seldom  our  hearts  are  duly  afliected  by  the 
thought.  And  while  I  find  it  easy  to  write 
in  this  moralizing  strain,  I  feel  myself  dis- 
posed to  be  seriously  engaged  about  trifles, 
and  trifling  in  the  most  serious  concerns,  as 
if  I  believed  the  very  contrary.  It  is  with  good 
reason  the  Lord  challenges  as  his  own  pre- 
rogative the  full  knowledge  of  the  deccitful- 
ness,  desperate  wickedness,  and  latent  depths 
of  the  human  heart,  which  is  capable  of 
making  even  his  own  people  so  shamefully 
inconsistent  with  themselves  and  with  their 
acknowledged  principles. 

I  find  that,  when  I  have  something  agree- 
able in  expectation  (suppose,  for  instance,  it 
were  a  few  hours  conversation  with  your 
Lordship,)  my  imagination  paints  and  prepares 
the  scene  beforehand ;  hurries  me  over  the 
intervening  space  of  time,  as  though  it  were 


230 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XXII  _ 


a  useless  blank,  and  anticipates  the  pleasure 
I  propose.  Many  of  my  tlioug-hts  of  tliis 
kind  are  mere  waking  dreams;  for  perhaps 
the  opportunity  I  am  eao^erly  waiting^  for 
never  happens,  but  is  swallowed  up  by  some 
unforeseen  disappointment;  or  if  not,  some- 
thing" from  within  or  without  prevents  its  an- 
swering tlie  idea  I  had  formed  of  it.  Nor 
does  my  fancy  confine  itself  within  the  nar- 
row limits  of  probabilities ;  it  can  busy  itself 
as  eagerly  in  ranging  after  chimeras  and  im- 
possibilities, and  engage  my  attention  to  the 
ideal  pursuit  of  things  that  are  never  likely  to 
happen.  In  these  respects  my  imagination 
travels  with  wings ;  so  that  if  the  wildness, 
the  multiplicity,  the  variety  of  the  phantoms 
which  pass  through  my  mind  in  the  space  of 
a  winter's  day  were  known  to  my  fellow- 
creatures,  they  would  probably  deem  me,  as 
I  am  often  ready  to  deem  myself,  but  a  more 
sober  and  harmless  kind  of  lunatic.  But  if  I 
endeavour  to  put  this  active  roving  power  in 
a  right  track,  and  to  represent  to  myself  those 
scenes  which,  though  not  yet  present,  I  know 
will  soon  be  realised,  and  have  a  greatness 
which  the  most  enlarged  exercise  of  my 
powers  cannot  comprehend :  if  I  w'ould  fix 
my  thoughts  upon  the  hour  of  death,  the  end 
of  the  world,  the  coming  of  the  Judge,  or 
similar  subjects ;  then  my  imagination  is 
presently  tame,  cold,  and  jaded,  travels  very 
slowly,  and  is  soon  wearied  in  the  road  of 
truth ;  though  in  the  fairy  fields  of  uncer- 
tainty and  folly,  it  can  skip  from  mountain 
to  mountain.  Mr.  Addison  supposes,  that 
the  imagination  alone,  as  it  can  be  differently 
affected,  is  capable  of  making  us  either  in- 
conceivably happy  or  miserable.  I  am  sure 
it  is  capable  of  making  us  miserable,  though 
I  believe  it  seldom  gives  us  much  pleasure, 
but  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  a  fool's  para- 
dise. But  I  am  sure,  were  my  outward  life 
and  conduct  perfectly  free  from  blame,  the 
disorders  and  defilement  of  my  imagination 
are  sufficient  to  constitute  me  a  chief  sinner 
in  the  sight  of  him  to  whom  the  thoughts 
and  intents  of  the  heart  are  continually  open, 
and  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  ini- 
quity. 

Upon  this  head  I  cannot  but  lament  how 
universally  almost  education  is  suited,  and 
as  it  were  designed,  to  add  to  the  stimulus 
of  depraved  nature.  A  cultivated  imagina- 
tion is  commended  and  sought  after  as  a 
very  desirable  talent,  though  it  seldom  means 
more  than  the  possession  of  a  large  stock  of 
other  people's  dreams  and  fables,  with  a 
certain  quickness  in  compounding  them,  en- 
larging upon  them,  and  exceeding  them  by 
inventions  of  our  own.  Poets,  painters,  and 
even  historians  are  employed  to  assist  us 
from  our  early  years  in  forming  an  habitual 
relish  for  shadows  and  colourings,  which 
both  indispose  for  the  search  of  truth  and 
even  unfit  us  for  its  reception,  unless  pro- 


posed just  in  our  own  way.  The  best  efFe»: 
of  the  belles  lettres  upon  the  imagination 
seems  generally  expressed  by  the  word  taste. 
And  what  is  this  taste,  but  a  certain  disposi- 
tion which  loves  to  be  humoured,  soothed, 
and  flattered,  and  which  can  hardly  receive 
or  beai  the  most  important  truths,  if  they  be 
not  decorated  and  set  off  with  such  a  deli- 
cacy and  address  as  taste  requires!  I  say 
the  most  important  truths;  because  truths 
of  a  secular  importance  strike  so  closely  upon 
the  senses,  that  the  decision  of  taste  perhaps 
is  not  waited  for.  Thus,  if  a  man  be  in- 
formed of  the  birth  of  his  child,  or  that  his 
liouse  is  on  fire,  the  message  takes  up  his 
thoughts,  and  he  is  seldom  much  disgusted 
with  the  manner  in  which  it  is  delivered. 
But  what  an  insuperable  bar  is  the  refined 
taste  of  many  to  their  profiting  by  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  or  even  to  their 
hearing  it.  Though  the  subject  of  a  dis- 
course be  weighty,  and  some  just  representa- 
tion given  of  the  evil  of  sin,  the  worth  of  the 
soul,  and  the  love  of  Christ ;  yet,  if  there  be 
something  amiss  in  the  elocution,  language, 
or  manner  of  the  preacher,  people  of  taste 
must  be  possessed,  in  a  good  measure,  of 
grace  likewise,  if  they  can  hear  him  with 
tolerable  patience.  And  perhaps  three 
fourths  of  those  who  are  accounted  the  most 
sensible  and  judicious  in  the  auditory,  will 
remember  little  about  the  sermon,  but  the 
tone  of  the  voice,  the  awkwardness  of  the 
attitude,  the  obsolete  expressions,  and  the 
like ;  while  the  poor  and  simple,  not  being 
incumbered  with  this  hurtful  accomplish- 
ment, receive  the  messenger  as  the  Lord's 
servant,  and  the  truth  as  the  lord's  word, 
and  are  comforted  and  edified. — But  I  stop. 
Some  people  would  say,  that  I  must  suppose 
your  Lordship  to  have  but  little  taste,  or  else 
much  grace,  or  I  should  not  venture  to 
trouble  you  with  such  letters  as  mine. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIL 

MY  LORD, — The  apostle  speaks  of  a  bless- 
edness which  it  is  the  design  of  the  gospel 
to  impart  to  those  who  receive  it.  The  Gala- 
tiaus  once  had  it,  and  spoke  of  it.  The 
apostle  reminds  them  of  their  loss,  which  is 
left  upon  record  as  a  warning  to  us.  His 
expression  has  led  me  sometimes  to  consider 
wherein  a  christian's  present  blessedness 
consists ;  I  mean,  that  which  is  attainable  in 
this  state  of  trial,  and  the  sense  and  exercise 
of  which  may  be,  and  too  oflen  is,  suspended 
and  taken  from  us.  It  is  a  blessedness  which, 
if  we  speak  of  man  in  a  natural  state,  his  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  his  ear  heard  so  as  to  un- 
derstand it,  nor  can  the  idea  of  it  arise  in  his 
heart.     It  is  no  way  dependent  upon  outward 


LET.  XXII.] 


LETTERS  TO  A  NODLEMAN. 


981 


circumstances.  Prospority  cannot  impart  it, 
prt'scrve  or  supply  tin'  want  of  it ;  nor  can 
ailvorsity  put  it  out  ot'our  ri'iicli.  Tho  wise 
fimuot  U(.'(iuir»'  it  by  dint  of  superior  abili- 
ties ;  nor  shall  tlie  simple  miss  it  for  want 
of  capacity. 

The  slate  of  true  believers,  comjwred  with 
that  of  others,  is  always  blessed.  If  they 
are  kirn  from  above,  and  united  to  Jesus, 
tiiey  are  delivered  from  condeumation,  and 
are  heirs  of  eternal  life,  and  may  therelore 
well  be  accounted  happy.  But  I  consider 
now,  not  their  harvest,  but  their  first  fruits; 
not  their  portion  in  reversion,  but  the  earnest 
attainable  in  this  life  ;  not  what  tiiey  shall  be 
m  heaven,  but  what,  in  an  humble  attend- 
ance upon  tlie  Ix)rd,  they  may  be  while  uj^n 
earth.  There  is  even  at  present  a  prize  of 
our  hinfh  callincf  set  before  us.  It  is  much 
to  be  desired,  that  we  liad  such  a  sense  of 
its  value  as  might  prompt  us  so  to  run  that 
we  might  obtain.  I  have  thought  this  bless- 
edness may  be  comprise<l  in  live  particulars, 
though,  in  order  to  take  a  succinct  view  of 
the  subject  some  of  these  might  be  branched 
out  into  several  others ;  but  I  would  not  by 
too  many  subdivisions  give  my  letter  the  air 
of  a  sermon. 

In  the  first  place,  a  clear,  well  grounded, 
habitual  persuasion  of  our  acceptance  in  the 
Beloved  is  attainable ;  and  though  we  may 
be  safe,  we  cannot  be  said  to  enjoy  blessed- 
ness without  it.  To  be  in  a  state  of  suspense 
and  uncertainty  in  a  point  of  so  great  import- 
ance is  painful ;  and  the  Lord  has  accordingly 
provided  that  liis  people  may  have  strong 
consolation  on  this  head.  Tliey  are  blessed 
therefore  who  have  such  views  of  the  power, 
grace,  and  suitableness  of  Jesus,  and  the 
certainty  and  security  of  redemption  in  him, 
together  with  such  a  consciousness  that  they 
have  anchored  their  hopes  and  ventured 
their  all  upon  his  person,  work,  and  promise, 
as  furnishes  them  with  a  ready  answer  to 
all  the  cavils  of  unbelief  and  Satan,  in  the 
apostle's  manner,  Rom.  viii.  31 — 37.  That 
Paul  could  thus  challenge  and  triumph  over 
all  charges  and  enemies,  was  not  an  appen- 
dage of  iiis  office  as  an  apostle,  but  a  part  of 
his  experience  as  a  believer ;  and  it  lies 
equally  open  to  us,  for  we  have  the  same 
gospel  and  the  same  promises  as  he  had  :  nor 
is  the  efficacy  of  the  Holy  Spirit's  teaching 
a  whit  weakened  by  length  of  time.  But 
many  stop  short  of  this.  They  have  a  hope, 
but  it  rather  springs  from  their  frames  and 
feelings  than  from  a  spiritual  apprehension 
of  the  Redeemer's  engagements  and  fulness, 
and  therefore  fluctuates  and  changes  like 
the  weather.  Could  they  be  persuaded  to 
pray  with  earnestness  and  importunity,  as 
the  apostle  prays  for  them,  Ephes.  i.  17,  18, 
and  iii.  16, 19.  they  would  find  a  blessedness 
which  they  have  not  yet  known ;  for  it  is 
said,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive."     And  it 


is  said  JikewiHe,  "  Ye  receive  not  because 
ye  n.sk  not." 

Could  this  privilege  Ix;  enjoyed  Hingly,  the 
natunil  man  would  have  no  <»bjection  to  it. 
He  would  (as  he  thinks)  be  pleased  to  know 
lie  should  ho  saved  at  last,  provided  that 
while  here  he  might  live  in  his  sins.  But 
th(!  believer  will  not,  cannot  think  himsrlf 
blessed,  uidess  he  has  likewise  a  conscience 
void  of  olfence.  This  was  the  a|Mjsth!'s  daily 
e.xercise,  though  no  one  was  farther  from  a 
legal  spirit,  or  more  dependent  upon  Jesus 
for  acceptance.  But  if  we  live  in  any  known 
sin,  or  allow  ourselves  in  the  customary 
omission  of  any  known  duty,  supposing  it 
possible  in  such  a  case  to  preserve  a  sense 
of  our  acceptance  (which  can  hardly  be  sup- 
posed ;  for  if  the  spirit  be  grieved,  our  evi- 
dences decline  of  course)  yet  we  could  not 
be  easy.  If  a  traveller  was  absolutely  sure 
of  reaching  his  journey's  end  in  safety,  yet 
if  he  walked  with  a  thorn  in  his  foot,  he 
must  take  every  step  in  pain.  Such  a  thorn 
will  be  felt  in  the  conscience  till  we  are 
favoured  with  a  simplicity  of  heart,  and  made 
willing  in  all  things,  great  or  small,  to  yield 
obedience  to  the  authority  of  the  Lord's  pre- 
cepts, and  make  them  the  standing  rule  of 
our  conduct,  without  wilfully  admitting  a 
single  exception.  At  the  best,  we  shall  be 
conscious  of  innumerable  shortcomings,  and 
shameful  defilements ;  but  these  things  will 
not  break  our  peace,  if  our  hearts  are  up- 
right. But  if  we  trifle  with  light,  and  con- 
nive at  what  we  know  to  be  wrong,  we  shall 
be  weak,  restless,  and  uncomfortable.  How 
many  who,  we  would  hope,  are  the  children 
of  the  King,  are  lean  from  day  to  day,  be- 
cause some  right-hand  or  right-eye  evil, 
which  they  cannot  persuade  themselves  to 
part  with,  keeps  them  halting  between  two 
opinions !  and  they  are  as  distant  from  happi- 
ness, as  they  are  from  the  |X)ssibility  of  re- 
conciling the  incompatible  services  of  God  and 
the  world.  But  happy  indeed  is  he  who  con- 
demneth  not  himself  in  that  thing  which  he 
alloweth. 

Real  communion  with  the  Lord,  in  his  ap- 
pointed means  of  grace,  is  likewise  an  im- 
portant branch  of  this  blessedness.  They 
were  instituted  for  this  end,  and  are  suffi- 
cient, by  virtue  of  his  power  and  Spirit,  to 
answer  it.  I  do  not  believe  this  enjoyment 
will  be  always  equal.  But  I  believe  a  com- 
fortable sense  of  it,  in  some  measure,  is  gene- 
rally attainable.  To  read  the  scriptures, 
not  as  an  attorney  may  read  a  will,  merely 
to  know  the  sense,  but  as  the  heir  reads  it, 
as  a  description  and  proof  of  his  interest ;  to 
hear  the  gospel,  as  the  voice  of  our  Beloved, 
so  as  to  have  little  leisure  either  for  admir- 
ing the  abilities  or  censuring  the  defects 
of  the  preacher ;  and,  in  prayer,  to  feel  a 
liberty  of  pouring  out  our  hearts  before  the 
Lord,  to  behold  some  glances  of  his  goodness 


232 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLE.AIAN. 


[let.  xxiii. 


passing  before  ii;?,  and  to  breathe  forth  before 
him  the  tempers  of  a  child,  the  spirit  of  adop- 
tion ; — and  thus,  by  beholding  his  glory,  to 
be  conformed  more  and  more  to  his  image, 
and  to  renew  our  strength,  by  drawini^  water 
out  of  the  wells  of  salvation:  Herein  is  bless- 
edness. They  who  have  tasted  it  can  say, 
it  is  good  for  mo  to  draw  nigh  to  God.  The 
Boul,  thus  refreslied  by  the  water  of  life,  is 
preserved  from  thirsting  after  the  vanities  of 
the  world,  thus  instructed  in  the  sanctuary, 
comes  down  from  the  mount  filled  with  hea- 
venly wisdom,  anointed  with  a  holy  unction, 
and  therefore  qualified  to  judge,  speak,  and 
act  hi  character,  in  all  the  relations  and  oc- 
casions of  secular  life.  In  this  way,  besides 
the  pleasure,  a  spiritual  taste  is  acquired, 
something  analogous  to  the  meaning  of  tlie 
word  taste  when  applied  to  music  or  good 
breeding,  by  which  discords  and  impropri- 
eties are  observed  and  avoided,  as  it  were  by 
instinct,  and  what  is  right  is  felt  and  fol- 
lowed, not  so  much  by  the  force  of  rules,  as 
by  a  habit  insensibly  acquired,  and  in  which 
the  substance  of  all  necessary  rules  are, 
if  I  may  so  say,  digested.  O  tiiat  I  knew 
more  of  this  blessedness,  and  more  of  its 
effects ! 

Another  branch  of  blessedness  is  a  power 
of  reposing  ourselves  and  our  concerns  upon 
the  Lord's  faithfulness  and  care,  and  may  be 
considered  in  two  respects.  A  reliance  upon 
him  that  he  will  surely  provide  for  us,  guide 
us,  protect  us,  be  our  help  in  trouble,  our 
shield  in  danger;  so  that,  however  poor, 
weak,  and  defenceless  in  ourselves,  we  may 
rejoice  in  his  all-sufficiency  as  our  own : — 
and  farther,  in  consequence  of  this,  a  peace- 
ful, humble  submission  to  his  will,  undor  all 
events,  whicli,  upon  their  first  impression, 
are  contrary  to  our  own  views  and  desires. 
Surely,  in  a  world  like  this,  wdiere  every 
thing  is  uncertain,  where  we  are  e.xposed  to 
trials  on  every  hand,  and  know  not  but  a 
single  hour  may  bring  forth  something  pain- 
ful, yea  dreadiiil  to  our  natural  sensations, 
there  can  be  no  blessedness  but  so  far  as  we 
are  thus  enabled  to  entrust  and  resign  all  to 
the  direction  and  faithfulness  of  the  Lord 
our  Shepherd.  For  wantof  more  of  this  spirit, 
multitudes  of  professing  christians  perplex 
and  wound  themselves,  and  dishonour  their 
high  calling,  by  continual  anxieties,  alarms, 
and  complaints.  They  think  nothing  safe 
under  the  Lord's  keeping,  unless  their  own 
eye  is  likewise  upon  it,  and  are  seldom  satis- 
fied witli  any  of  his  dispensations ;  for,  though 
he  gratify  their  desires  in  nine  instances,  a 
refusal  in  the  tenth  spoils  the  relish  of  all, 
and  they  show  the  truths  of  the  gospel  can 
afford  them  little  comfort,  if  self  is  crossed. 
But,  blessed  is  the  man  who  trusteth  in  the 
Lord,  and  whose  hope  the  I^ord  is !  He 
shall  not  be  afraid  of  evil  tidings :  he  shall 
be  kept  in  perfect  peace  though  the  earth 


be  moved,  and  the  mountains  cast  into  the 
midst  of  the  sea. 

The  paper  admonishes  me  it  is  time  to  re- 
lieve your  Lordship.  And  I  have  not  room 
to  detain  you  long  upon  the  fifth  particular. 
It  belongs  to  a  believer's  blessedness  to  feel 
his  spirit  clieerful  and  active  for  the  Lord's 
service  in  the  world.  For  to  what  other  end 
should  he  wish  to  live?  If  he  thought  of 
himself  only,  it  would  be  better  to  depart  and 
be  with  Jesus  immediately.  But  he  is  a  debtor 
to  his  grace  and  love ;  and,  though  strictly 
he  can  make  no  returns,  yet  he  longs  to  show 
his  thankfulness;  and,  if  the  Lord  give  him  a 
hca  rt  to  redeem  h  is  time,  to  devote  his  strength 
and  influence,  and  lay  himself  out  for  his  ser- 
vice,— that  he  may  be  instrumental  in  pro- 
moting his  cause,  in  comforting  his  people, 
— or  enable  him  to  let  his  light  shine  before 
men,  that  his  God  and  his  Father  may  be 
honoured  ; — he  will  account  it  blessedness. 
This  is  indeed  the  great  end  of  life,  and  he 
knows  it  will  evidently  appear  so  at  the  ap- 
proach of  death,  and  therefore,  while  others 
are  cumbered  about  many  things,  he  esteems 
this  the  one  thing  needful. — I  remain,  my 
Lord,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIIL 

July  — 1776. 

MY  LORD, — That  I  may  not  weary  you  by 
a  preamble,  I  oblige  myself  to  take  tlie  tura 
of  my  letter  from  some  passage  of  scripture  ; 
and  i  fix  upon  that  which  just  now  occurred 
to  my  thoughts,  a  clause  in  that  pattern  of 
prayer,  which  he  who  best  knows  our  state 
has  been  pleased  to  leave  for  the  instruction 
of  his  people,  in  their  great  concern  of  wait- 
ing at  his  throne  of  grace.  Matt.  vi.  13. 
"  Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  This  peti- 
tion is  seasonable  at  all  times,  and  to  all  per- 
sons who  have  any  right  knowledge  of  them- 
selves, or  their  spiritual  calling. 

The  word  temptation,  taken  at  large,  in- 
cludes every  kind  of  trial.  To  tempt  is  to  try 
or  prove.  In  tbis  sense,  it  is  said,  the  Lord 
tempted  Abraham,  that  is,  he  tried  him ;  for 
God  cannot  tempt  to  evil.  He  proposed 
such  an  act  of  obedience  to  him,  as  was  a 
test  of  his  faith,  love,  dependence,  and  in- 
tegrity. Thus,  all  our  afflictions,  under  his 
gracious  management,  are  appointed  to  prove, 
manifest,  exercise,  and  purify  the  graces  of  his 
children.  And  not  afflictions  only ;  prosperity 
likev»-ise  is  a  state  of  temptation  ;  and  many 
who  have  endured  sharp  suff*orings,  and  came 
off  honourably,  have  been  afterwards  greatly 
hurt  and  ensnared  by  prosperity.  To  this 
purpose  the  histories  of  David  and  Ilezekiah 
are  in  point.  But  by  temptation  we  more 
frequently  understand  the  wiles  and  force 
which  Satan  employs  in  assaulting  our  peace 


LKT.   XXIll] 


LF/ITKltS  TO  A  NOIJLKMAN. 


233 


or  sprciuliiiir  snriro.s  n>r  our  IVm'L  Wo  w  al- 
ways praotisiiiif  ajrniii.st  us.oilliordirorlly  and 
frt)in  himsi'lf,  by  tlio  access  lie  has  to  our 
hearts,  or  iM«\linlt'ly,  by  the  inrtnoiu'o  ho  bus 
ovor  tbo  mon  and  tbo  tbiuijrs  of  this  world. 
Tbo  words  which  follow  conlirm  this  Hfuso, 
— '*  Lead  us  not  into  temptation;  but  deliver 
us  fri)ni  evil,"  »-rj  tju  t;,.{ov;,  I'roin  the  evil  one, 
as  it  m\*j;Ut  bo  piT»pcrly  rendered  here,  and 
in  1  John  v.  11).  'J'ho  subtilty  and  |>ower  of 
this  adversary  are  very  fjreat :  he  is  an  over- 
matclj  tor  us;  and  we  have  no  hoi)e  of  safety 
but  in  the  Lord's  protection.  Satan's  action 
upon  the  heart  may  be  illustrated  by  the  ac- 
tion of  the  wintl  U|H)n  the  soa.  The  sea 
sometimes  appears  smooth,  but  it  is  always 
disposed  to  swell  and  raije,  and  to  obey  the 
impulse  of  every  storm.  Thus  the  heart  may 
be  sometimes  cpiiet;  but  the  wind  of  tempta- 
tion will  awaken  and  rouse  it  in  a  moment: 
for  it  is  essential  to  our  depraved  nature  to 
be  unstable  and  yieldin^p  as  the  water ;  and 
when  it  is  under  the  impression  of  the  ene- 
my, its  violence  can  only  be  controlled  by 
him  who  says  to  the  raj^incr  sea,  "  Be  still ; 
here  sliall  tliy  proud  waves  be  stjiycd."  The 
branches  of  tem})tation  are  almost  innume- 
rable ;  but  the  principal  may  be  reduced  to 
the  several  faculties  of  the  soul  (as  we  com- 
monly speak)  to  which  they  are  more  directly 
suited. 

He  has  temptations  for  the  understanding-. 
He  can  blind  the  mind  with  prejudices  and 
false  reasoninirs,  and  ply  it  with  arguments 
for  infidelity,  till  the  most  obvious  truths  be- 
come questionable.  Even  where  the  gospel 
has  been  received,  he  can  insinuate  error, 
which,  for  the  suddenness  and  malignity  of  its 
effects,  may  be  properly  compared  to  poison. 
A  healthy  man  may  be  poisoned  in  a  mo- 
ment; and,  if  he  be,  the  baneful  drug  is  usu- 
ally mixed  with  his  food.  Many,  who  for  a 
while  seemed  to  be  sound  in  the  faith,  have 
had  their  judgments  strongly  and  strangely 
perverted,  and  prevailed  upon  to  renounce  and 
oppose  the  truths  they  once  prized  and  de- 
fended. Such  instances  are  striking  proofs 
of  human  weakness,  and  loud  calls  to  watch- 
fulness and  dependence,  and  to  beware  of 
leaning  to  our  own  understandings.  For 
these  purposes  he  employs  both  preachers 
and  authors,  who,  by  fine  words  and  fair 
speeches  beguile  the  hearts  of  the  unwary. 
And,  by  his  immediate  influence  upon  the 
mind,  he  is  able,  if  the  Lord  permits  him,  to 
entangle  those  who  are  providentially  placed 
out  of  the  reach  of  corrupt  and  designing 
men. 

He  tempts  the  conscience.  By  working 
upon  the  unbelief  of  our  hearts,  and  darken- 
ing the  glory  of  the  gospel,  he  can  hold  down 
the  soul  to  the  number,  weight,  and  aggrava- 
tion of  its  sins,  so  that  it  shall  not  be  able  to 
look  up  to  Jesus,  nor  draw  any  comfort  from 
his  blood,  promises,  and  grace.  How  many 
2G 


go  burdi^ned  in  tliis  manner,  socking  ndief 
froMj  duties,  and  pi'rhupH  Hpendmg  thoir 
strength  in  things  not  commarMh'd,  though 
thr'y  hoar,  and  |)orhaps  arknowledgo  tho  goK- 
pel .'  Nor  are  the  wisest  and  most  ostnbliHhcd 
iilile  to  withstand  hisas.saults,  if  I  Ik;  Lord  with- 
ilraw,  and  give  him  hvive  to  employ  his  |)owor 
and  subtilty  unrest raincMJ.  'I'Im;  gosp<'l  af- 
H)rdri  suflicient  ground  for  an  abiding  assur- 
ancfof  hoju;;  nor  should  we  rest  satisfied  with- 
out it.  However,  the  possession  and  pn.'serv- 
ation  of  this  privilege  depends  upon  the 
Lord's  presence  with  the  soul,  and  his  shield- 
ing us  from  Satan's  attacks;  for  I  am  per- 
suaded he  is  able  to  sifl  and  shake  the  strong- 
est believer  upon  earth. 

He  has  likewise  temptations  suited  to  the 
will.  Jesus  makes  his  people  willing  in  the 
day  of  his  power ;  yet  there  is  a  contrary  prin- 
ciple remaining  with  them,  of  which  Satan 
knows  how  to  avail  himself  There  are  occa- 
sions in  which  he  almost  prevails  to  set  self 
again  upon  the  throne,  as  Dagon  was  raised 
atler  he  liad  fallen  before  the  ark.  How  else 
should  any  who  have  tasted  that  the  I/ird  is 
gracious,  give  way  to  a  repining  spirit,  ac- 
count his  dispensations  hard,  or  Ins  precepts 
too  strict,  so  as  to  shrink  from  their  observ- 
ance through  the  fear  of  men,  or  a  regard  to 
their  worldly  interest? 

Farther,  he  has  snares  for  the  affections. 
In  managing  these,  he  gains  a  great  advan- 
tage from  our  situation  in  a  world  that  knows 
not  God.  .The  scriptures  give  Satan  the 
title  of  got!  of  this  world;  and  believers  learn, 
by  painful  experience,  how  great  his  power 
is  in  and  over  the  persons  and  things  of  it. 
So  that  to  be  stedfast  in  wisdom's  ways,  re- 
quires unremitted  efforts,  like  pressing 
through  a  crowd,  or  swimming  against  a 
stream.  How  hard  is  it  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  pitch  and  not  to  be  defiled?  The  air  of 
the  world  is  infectious.  Our  business  and 
unavoidable  connections  are  so  interwoven 
with  occasions  of  sin,  and  there  is  so  much 
in  our  hearts  suited  to  them,  that  unless  we 
are  incessantly  upheld  by  almighty  strength, 
we  cannot  stand  a  day  or  an  liour.  Past 
victories  afford  us  no  greater  security  than 
they  did  Samson,  who  was  shamefully  sur- 
prised by  enemies  whom  he  had  formerly 
conquered.  Nor  are  we  only  tempted  by 
compliances  that  are  evil  in  themselves.  With 
respect  to  these,  perhaps,  conscience  may  be 
awake,  and  we  stand  upon  our  guard ;  but 
we  are  still  upon  Satan's  ground,  and  while 
he  may  seem  to  allow  himself  defeated,  he 
can  dexterously  change  his  method,  and  come 
upon  us  where  we  do  not  suspect  him ;  for, 
perimus  in  Ileitis ;  perhaps  our  greatest  dan- 
ger arises  from  things  in  themselves  lawfuL 
He  can  tempt  us  by  our  nearest  and  dearest 
friend,  and  pervert  every  blessing  of  a  kind 
providence  into  an  occasion  of  drawing  our 
hearts  from  the  Giver ;  yea  spiritual  blessings, 


234 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


gifts,  comforts,  and  even  graces,  are  some- 
times the  ennfines  by  wliich  he  practises 
aorainst  us,  to  liil  us  witli  vain  confidence  and 
self-sufficiency,  or  to  lull  us  into  formality 
and  indolence. 

That  wonderful  power  which  we  call  the 
imafT-jnation,  is  I  suppose  rather  the  medium 
of  the  soul's  perceptions  during  its  present 
state  of  union  with  the  body,  than  a  spiritual 
faculty,  strictly  speakin^^ ;  but  it  partakes 
largely  of  that  depravity  which  sin  has  brought 
upon  our  whole  frame,  and  allbrds  Satan  an 
avenue  for  assaulting  us  with  the  most  terri- 
fying, if  not  the  most  dangerous  of  his  tempt- 
ations. At  the  best,  we  have  but  an  indif- 
ferent command  over  it.  We  cannot,  by  an 
act  of  our  own  will,  exclude  a  thousand  pain- 
ful, wild,  inconsistent,  and  hurtful  ideas,  which 
are  ever  ready  to  obtrude  themselves  upon  our 
minds ;  and  a  slight  alteration  in  the  animal 
system,  in  the  motion  of  the  blood  or  nervous 
gpirit,  is  sufficient  to  withdraw  it  wholly  from 
cur  dominion,  and  to  leave  us  like  a  city  with- 
out walls  or  gates,  exposed  to  the  incursion 
of  our  enemy.  We  are  fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made;  and,  with  all  our  boasted 
knowledge  of  other  things,  can  form  no  con- 
ception of  what  is  so  vastly  interesting  to  us, 
the  mysterious  connection  between  soul  and 
body,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  are  mu- 
tually affected  by  each  other.  The  effects  we 
too  sensibly  feel.  The  wisest  of  men  would 
be  accounted  fools  or  mad,  were  they  to  ex- 
press in  words  a  small  part  of  what  passes 
within  them ;  and  it  would  appear  that  much 
of  the  soberest  life  is  little  better  than  a  wak- 
ing dream ;  but  how  dreadful  are  the  conse- 
quences when  the  Lord  permits  some  hidden 
pin  in  the  human  machine  to  be  altered  !  Im- 
mediately a  door  flies  open,  which  no  hand  but 
his  can  shut,  and  the  enemy  pours  in,  like  a 
flood,  falsehood  and  horror,  and  the  blackness 
of  darkness ;  the  judgment  is  borne  down  and 
disabled,  and  the  most  distressing  illusions 
seize  us  with  all  the  apparent  force  of  evidence 
and  demonstration.  When  this  is  the  case  in 
a  certain  degree,  we  call  it  distraction ;  but 
there  are  various  degrees  of  it,  which  leave  a 
person  in  the  possession  of  his  senses  as  to  the 
things  of  common  life,  and  yet  are  sufficient, 
with  resiect  to  his  spiritual  concerns,  to  shake 
the  very  foundations  of  his  hope,  and  deprive 
him  of  aii  peace  and  comfort,  and  make  him  a 
terror  to  himself.  All  the  Lord's  people  are 
not  called  to  navigate  in  these  deep  waters  of 
soul  distress ;  but  all  are  liable.  Ah  !  if  we 
knew  what  some  suffer,  the  horribilia  de  Deo, 
and  the  terribilia  de  fide,  which  excruciate 
the  minds  of  those  over  whom  Satan  is  per- 
mitted to  tyrannize  in  this  way,  surely  we 
should  be  more  earnest  and  frequent  in  pray- 
ino',  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation."  From 
some  little  sense  I  have  of  the  malice  and 
suDtilty  of  our  spiritual  enemies,  and  the 
weakness  of  those  barriers  which  we  have  to 


[let.  xxiir. 

prevent  their  assaults,  I  am  fully  persuaded 
that  nothing  less  than  the  continual  exertion 
of  that  almighty  power  which  preserves  ihe 
stars  in  their  orbits,  can  maintain  our  peace 
of  mind  for  an  hour  or  a  minute.  In  this 
view,  all  comparative  difference  in  external 
situations  seems  to  be  annihilated ;  for,  as  the 
Lord's  presence  can  make  his  people  happy 
in  a  dungeon,  so  there  are  temptations  which, 
if  we  felt  them,  would  instantly  render  us 
incapable  of  receiving  a  moment's  satisfaction 
from  an  assemblage  of  all  earthly  blessings, 
and  make  the  company  of  our  dearest  friends 
tasteless,  if  not  insupportable. 

Ah !  how  little  do  the  gay  and  the  busy 
think  of  these  things !  How  little  indeed 
do  they  think  of  them  who  profess  to  believe 
them !  How  faint  is  the  sense  of  our  obli- 
gations to  him,  who  freely  submitted  to  the 
fiercest  onsets  of  the  powers  of  darkness,  to 
free  us  from  the  punishment  due  to  our  sins ! 
otherwise  we  must  have  been  for  ever  shut 
up  with  those  miserable  and  merciless  spirits 
who  delight  in  our  torment,  and  who,  even 
in  the  present  state,  if  they  get  access  to  our 
minds,  can  make  our  existence  a  burden. 

But  our  Lord,  who  knows  and  considers 
our  weakness,  of  which  we  are  so  little 
aware,  allows  and  directs  us  to  pray,  "  Lead 
us  not  into  temptation."  We  are  not  to  ex- 
pect an  absolute  freedom  from  temptation ; 
we  are  called  to  be  soldiers,  and  must  some- 
times meet  with  enemies,  and  perhaps  with 
wounds ;  yet,  considering  this  prayer  as  pro- 
vided by  him  who  knows  what  we  are,  and 
where  we  are,  it  may  afford  us  both  instruc- 
tion and  consolation. 

It  calls  to  a  constant  reflection  upon  our 
own  weakness.  Believers,  especially  young 
ones,  are  prone  to  rest  too  much  in  grace  re- 
ceived. They  feel  their  hearts  warm,  and, 
like  Peter,  are  ready  to  please  themselves 
with  thinking  how  they  would  act  in  such 
or  such  a  state  of  trial.  It  is  as  if  the  Lord 
had  said,  "  Poor  worms,  be  not  high  minded ; 
but  fear ;  and  pray,  that  if  it  may  be,  you 
may  be  kept  from  learning,  by  bitter  experi- 
ence how  weak  your  supposed  strength  is." 
It  sweetly  intimates,  that  all  our  ways,  and 
all  our  enemies,  are  in  the  hands  of  our  great 
Shepherd.  He  knows  our  path.  We  are 
short-sighted,  and  cannot  tell  what  an  hour 
may  bring  forth ;  but  we  are  under  his  pro- 
tection, and,  if  we  depend  upon  him,  we 
need  not  be  anxiously  afraid.  He  will  be 
faithful  to  the  trust  we  repose  in  him,  and 
will  suffer  no  temptation  to  overtake  us,  but 
what  he  will  support  us  under  and  bring  us 
through.  But  it  becomes  us  to  beware  of 
security  and  presumption,  to  keep  our  eyes 
upon  him,  and  not  to  think  ourselves  safe  a 
moment  longer  than  our  spirits  feel  and 
breathe  the  meaning  of  this  petition. 

It  implies,  likewise,  the  duty  of  watchful- 
ness on  our  part,  as  our  Lord  joins  them  else- 


LET.  XX I  v.] 


LirrrKRs  to  a  nohlkman. 


235 


whoro,  '*  Wulch  and  prny."  If  wo  dosiro 
not  to  bo  lod  into  trmptnlioii,  suroly  wo  aro 
not  to  run  into  it.  It'  wo  wish  to  ho  pro- 
servod  from  orror,  wo  nro  to  ^iirird  ii^iiinst 
a  curious  and  roiisoninnr  spirit.  If  wo  would 
proijorvo  poaco  of  conscionco,  wo  must  ho- 
wnro  of  tritlinjj  with  tho  liifht  and  niotions 
of  tho  Holy  Spirit;  for  without  his  assistanco 
wc  cannot  maintain  faith  in  tvxorcisi'.  if  wo 
woiild  not  bo  onsnarod  by  the  mon  of  tho 
world,  wo  aro  to  koop  at  a  propor  distanco 
from  iliom.  Tho  loss  wo  havo  to  do  with 
thom,  tho  bottor,  oxcoptini^  st)  tar  as  tho  pro 
vidonco  of  (.Jod  makos  it  our  duty  in  tho  dis- 
char'ifo  of  our  calliuirs  and  relations,  and 
takiuij  opportunities  of  doinij  thom  pj^ood. 
And  thoui^h  wo  cannot  wholly  sluit  Satan  out 
of  our  imajjinations,  wc  should  bo  cautious 
that  we  do  not  wilfully  provide  fuel  for  liis 
flame ;  but  entreat  tho  Lord  to  set  a  watch 
upon  our  eyes  and  our  cars,  and  to  teach  us 
to  reject  the  tirst  motions  and  the  smallest 
appearance  of  evil. 

I  have  been  so  intent  upon  my  subject, 
that  I  have  once  and  aofain  for<rot  I  was  writ- 
ing" to  your  Lordsliip,  otlierwise  I  should  not 
have  lot  my  lucubration  run  to  so  preat  a 
length,  which  I  certainly  did  not  intend  when 
I  be«Tan.  I  shall  not  add  to  this  fault,  by 
makinor  an  apology.  I  have  touched  upon  a 
topic  of  great  importance  to  myself.  I  am 
one  among"  many  who  have  suffered  greatly 
for  want  of  paying  more  attention  to  my 
need  of  this  prayer.  O  that  I  could  be  wiser 
hereafter,  and  always  act  and  speak  as  know- 
ing that  I  am  always  upon  a  field  of  battle, 
and  beset  by  legions ! — I  am,  with  great  re- 
spect, &c. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

September  — 1776. 

MY  LORD, — Without  any  preamble,  I  pur- 
pose now  to  wait  on  your  Lordship,  with  a 
few  thoughts  on  tlie  meaning  of  that  name 
which  first  obtained  at  Antioch;  in  other 
words,  what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian  ]  What 
are  the  effects  which,  making  allowance  for 
the  unavoidable  infirmities  attending  upon 
the  present  state  of  mortality,  may  be  ex- 
pected from  a  real  experimental  knowledge 
of  the  gospel  ]  I  would  not  insinuate  that 
none  are  christians  who  do  not  come  up  to 
the  character  I  would  describe ;  for  then  I 
fear  I  should  unchristian  myself;  but  only  to 
consider  what  the  scriptures  encourage  us  to 
aim  at,  as  the  prize  of  our  high  calling  in 
this  life.  It  is  generally  allowed  and  la- 
mented, that  we  are  too  apt  to  live  below 
our  privileges,  and  to  stop  short  of  what  the 
spirit  and  the  promises  of  the  gospel  point 
out  to  us  as  attainable. 

Mr.  Pope's  admired  line,  "An  honest  man's 


tho  noblest  work  of  (lod,"  may  bo  udmittod 
iLs  tt  truth  when  rightly  »'xplainL'd,  A  ohrw- 
tian  is  tho  noblost  work  of  (Jod  in  thin  vini- 
blo  world,  and  boars  a  much  brightr-r  im- 
pression of  his  glory  and  gooilnoHs  than  tho 
Sim  in  tho  firmamont;  and  none  but  a  chris- 
tian can  bo  strictly  and  |)roporIy  honest:  all 
others  aro  too  much  undor  tho  jKiwor  of  self, 
to  do  univ(?rs;illy  to  othiTS  as  thoy  would 
others  should  do  unto  thom  ;  and  ncjthing  but 
a  uniti)rm  conduct  upon  tiiis  principle  de- 
servos  tho  name  of  iionosty. 

Tiio  christian  is  a  now  creature,  born  and 
taught  from  above.  He  has  boon  convinced 
of  his  guilt  and  misery  as  a  sinner,  has  fled 
for  refuge  to  the  hope  set  before  him,  has 
seen  the  Son,  and  believed  on  iiim.  IUa 
natural  prejudices  against  the  glory  and 
grace  of  (Jod's  salvation  have  been  subdued 
and  silenced  by  almighty  power:  he  has  ac- 
cepted the  Beloved,  and  is  made  acceptable 
in  him.  He  now  knows  the  I/)rd :  he  has 
renounced  the  confused,  distant,  and  uncom- 
fortable notions  he  once  "formed  of  God;  and 
beholds  liim  in  Christ,  wlio  is  the  way,  the 
truth,  and  the  life,  the  only  door  by  which 
we  can  enter  to  any  true  satisfying  know- 
ledge of  God,  or  communion  with  him.  But 
lie  sees  God  in  Christ  reconciled,  a  Father, 
a  Saviour,  and  a  Friend,  who  has  freely  for- 
given him  all  his  sins,  and  given  him  the 
spirit  of  adoption.  He  is  now  no  longer  a 
servant,  much  less  a  stranger,  but  a  son ;  and 
because  a  son  an  heir,  already  interested  in 
all  the  promises,  admitted  to  the  throne  of 
grace,  and  an  assured  expectant  of  eternal 
glory.  The  gospel  is  designed  to  give  us 
not  only  a  perad venture  or  a  probability,  but 
a  certainty,  both  of  our  acceptance  and  our 
perseverance,  till  death  shall  be  swallowed 
up  in  life.  And  though  many  are  sadly 
fluctuating  and  perplexed  upon  this  head, 
and  perhaps  all  are  so  for  a  season,  yet  there 
are  those  who  can  say,  we  know  that  we  are 
of  God ;  and  therefore  they  are  stedfast  and 
immoveable  in  his  way,  because  they  are 
confident  that  their  labour  shall  not  be  in 
vain,  but  that,  when  they  shall  be  absent 
from  the  body,  they  shall  be  present  with  the 
Lord.  This  is  the  state  of  the  advanced  ex- 
perienced christian,  who,  being  enabled  to 
make  his  profession  the  chief  business  of  his 
life,  is  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power 
of  his  might.  Every  one  who  has  this  hope 
in  Christ,  purifieth  himself  even  as  he  is 
pure.  I  would  now  attempt  a  sketch  of  the 
christian's  temper,  formed  upon  these  princi- 
ples and  hopes,  under  the  leadmg  branches 
of  its  exercises,  respecting  God,  himself, 
and  his  fellow-creatures. 

The  christian's  temper  God-ward  is  evi- 
denced by  humility.  He  has  received  from 
Gethsemane  and  Golgotha  inch  a  sense  of 
the  evil  of  sin,  and  of  the  holiness  of  God, 
combined  with  his  matchless  love  to  sinners, 


23G 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XXIV. 


as  lias  deeply  penetrated  his  heart :  he  has 
an  aftbctiniT  renicnibrancc  of  the  state  of  re- 
bellion and  enmity  in  which  he  once  lived 
agfainst  this  holy  and  jrood  (lod;  and  he  has 
a  quick  perception  of  tlio  defilements  and  de- 
fects which  iftill  debase  his  best  services. 
His  moutb  is  therefore  stopped  as  to  boast- 
ing-; he  is  vile  in  his  own  eyes,  and  is  filled 
with  wonder  that  the  liOrd  should  visit  such 
a  sinner  with  such  a  salvation.  He  sees  so 
vast  a  disproportion  between  the  obligations 
he  is  under  to  grace,  and  the  returns  he 
makes,  that  he  is  disposed,  yea  constrained, 
to  adopt  the  apostle's  words  without  affecta- 
tion, and  to  account  himself  less  than  the 
least  of  all  saints;  and  knowing-  his  own 
heart,  while  he  sees  only  the  outside  of 
others,  he  is  not  easily  persuaded  there  can 
be  a  believer  upon  earth  so  fiint,  so  unfruit- 
ful, so  unworthy  as  himself  Yet,  though 
abased,  he  is  not  discouraged,  for  he  enjoys 
peace.  The  dignity,  offices,  blood,  righteous- 
ness, faithfulness,  and  compassion  of  the  Re- 
deemer, in  whom  he  rests,  trusts,  and  lives, 
for  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and 
redemption,  are  adequate  to  all  his  wants  and 
wishes,  provide  him  with  an  answer  to 
every  objection,  and  give  him  no  less  confi- 
dence in  God,  than  if  he  were  sinless  as  an 
angel :  for  he  sees,  that  though  sin  has 
abounded  in  him,  grace  has  much  more 
abounded  in  Jesus.  With  respect  to  the 
past  all  things  are  become  new ;  with  re- 
spect to  the  present  and  future,  he  leans 
upon  an  almighty  arm,  and  relies  upon  the 
word  and  power  which  made  and  upholds  the 
heavens  and  tlie  earth.  Though  he  feels 
himself  unworthy  of  the  smallest  mercies, 
he  claims  and  expects  the  greatest  blessings 
that  God  can  bestow ;  and  being  rooted  and 
grounded  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of 
Christ,  his  peace  abides,  and  is  not  greatly 
affected,  either  by  the  variation  of  his  OAvn 
frames,  or  the  changes  of  God's  dispensations 
towards  him  Vv'hile  here.  With  such  a  sense 
of  himself,  such  a  heartfelt  peace  and  hea- 
venly hope,  how  can  his  spirit  but  breathe 
love  to  his  God  and  Saviour  1  It  is  indeed 
the  perfection  of  his  character  and  happiness, 
that  his  soul  is  united  by  love  to  the  chief 
good.  The  love  of  Christ  is  the  joy  of  his 
heart,  and  the  spring  of  his  obedience.  With 
his  Saviour's  presence,  he  finds  a  heaven 
begun  upon  earth  ;  and  without  it,  all  the 
other  glories  of  the  heavenly  state  would  not 
content  him.  The  excellence  of  Christ,  his 
love  to  sinners,  especially  his  dying  love;  his 
love  to  himself  in  seeking  and  saving  him 
when  lost,  saving  him  to  the  utmost — But  I 
must  stop. — Your  Lordship  can  better  con- 
ceive than  I  can  describe,  how  and  why  Je- 
sus is  dear  to  the  heart  that  knows  him. 
That  part  of  the  christian's  life  which  is  not 
employed  in  the  active  service  of  his  Lord, 


is  chiefly  spent  in  seeking  and  maintaining 
communion  with  him.  For  this  he  plies  the 
throne  and  studies  the  word  of  grace,  and 
frequents  the  ordinances,  where  the  I^rd 
has  f  romi.sod  to  meet  with  his  people.  These 
are  his  golden  hours;  and  when  thus  em- 
ployed, how  poor  and  trivial  does  all  that  tlie 
world  calls  great  and  important  appear  in  his 
eyes  !  Yea,  he  is  solicitous  to  keep  up  an  in- 
tercourse of  heart  with  his  Beloved  in  his 
busiest  scenes ;  and  so  far  as  he  can  succeed, 
it  alleviates  all  his  labours,  and  sw^eetens  all 
his  troubles.  And  when  he  is  neither  com- 
muning with  his  Lord,  nor  acting  for  him, 
he  accounts  his  time  lost,  and  is  ashamed 
and  grieved.  The  truth  of  his  love  is  mani- 
fested by  submission.  This  is  twofold  and 
absolute,  and  without  reserve  in  each.  He 
submits  to  his  revealed  will,  as  made  known 
to  him  by  precept  and  by  his  own  example. 
He  aims  to  tread  in  all  his  Saviour's  foot- 
steps, and  makes  conscience  of  all  his  com- 
mandments, without  exception  and  without 
hesitation.  Again,  he  submits  to  his  provi- 
dential will :  he  yields  to  his  sovereignty,  ac- 
quiesces in  his  wisdom ;  he  knows  he  has  no 
right  to  complain  of  any  thing,  because  he  i& 
a  sinner ;  and  he  has  no  reason,  because  he 
is  sure  the  Lord  does  all  things  well.  There- 
fore this  submission  is  not  forced,  but  is  an  act 
of  trust.  He  knows  he  is  not  more  unworthy 
than  he  is  unabled  to  choose  for  himself,  and 
therefore  rejoices  that  the  Lord  has  under- 
taken to  manage  for  him  ;  and  were  he  com- 
pelled to  make  his  own  choice,  .'le  could 
only  choose,  that  all  his  concerns  she  rid  re- 
main in  that  hand  to  which  he  has  already 
committed  them.  And  thus  he  judges  of 
public  as  well  as  of  his  personal  affairs.  He 
cannot  be  an  unaffected  spectator  of  national 
sins,  nor  without  apprehension  of  their  de- 
served consequen-ces.  He  feels,  and  almost 
trembles  for  others^  but  he  himself  dwells 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty,  in  a 
sanctuary  that  cannot  be  forced ;  and  there- 
fore, should  he  see  the  earth  shaken,  and  the 
mountains  cast  into  the  mid^t  of  the  sea,  his 
heart  would  not  be  greatly  moved,  for  God  is 
his  refuge.  The  Lord  reigns.  He  sees  his 
Saviour's  hands  directing  every  dark  appear- 
ance, and  over-ruling  all  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  own  great  purposes ;  this  satisfies 
him,  and  though  the  winds  and  waves  should 
be  high,  he  can  venture  his  own  little  bark 
in  the  storm,  for  he  has  an  infallible  and  al- 
mighty pilot  on  board  with  him.  And  in- 
deed, why  should  he  fear  when  he  has  no- 
thing to  .rose  ?  His  best  concerns  are  safe; 
and  "other  things  he  holds  as  gifts  from  his 
Lord,  to  whose  call  he  is  ready  to  resign 
them,  in  whatever  way  he  pleases;  well 
knowing,  that  creatures  and  instruments 
cannot  of  themselves  touch  a  hair  of  his 
head  without  bis  Lord's  permission,  and  that 


LET.  XXIV.] 


LETTKRS  TO  A  NOBLKMAN. 


237 


if  ho  dies  permit  Uicm,  il  must  be  for  ll>o 
bt>L 

I  mijjht  enlar^jo  farther. — But  I  hhall  pro- 
ceed to  consider  tlio  chri.'^tiuu's  ttMii|H'r  res- 
ptH'tini,''  himself.  He  lives  ;,'Oilly  and  .soberly. 
By  st)bri('ty  wo  mean  more  than  that  he  is 
not  a  drunkard  ;  his  tempers  towanls  iJoil  of 
course  form  him  to  a  modi'ration  in  all  tem[K>- 
rai  thin<»'s.  He  is  not  sirupulous  or  suj)ersti- 
tious  ;  he  understamls  the  liberty  of  the  <ros- 
pel,  that  every  creature  of  (Jod  is  <r\.xn\  if  it 
be  received  with  thankso;ivin<j.  Ho  does  not 
ain)  at  beinj^  needlessly  smu^ular,  nor  practise 
8clf-devised  austerities.  Tlie  christian  is  nei- 
ther a  Stoic  nor  a  Cynic;  yet  he  finds  daily 
cause  for  watchfulness  and  restraint.  Satan 
will  not  often  tempt  a  believer  to  gross  crimes: 
our  o-reatest  snares  and  sorest  conflicts  are 
usually  found  in  things  lawful  in  themselves, 
but  hurtful  to  us  by  their  abuse,  engrossing 
too  much  of  our  time,  or  of  our  hearts,  or 
somehow  indisposing  us  for  cotnmunion  with 
the  Lord.  The  christian  will  be  jealous  of 
any  thing  that  might  entangle  his  atiections, 
damp  his  zeal,  or  straiten  him  in  his  opportu- 
nities of  serving  his  Saviour.  He  is  likewise 
content  with  iiis  situation,  because  the  Lord 
chooses  it  for  him  ;  his  spirit  is  not  eager  for 
additions  and  alterations  in  his  circumstances. 
If  divine  providence  {X)ints  out  and  leads  to  a 
change,  he  is  ready  to  follows  though  it  should 
be  what  the  world  would  call  from  a  better  to 
a  worse;  for  he  is  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger 
here,  and  a  citizen  of  lieavcn.  As  people 
of  fortune  sometimes,  in  travelling,  submit 
cheerfully  to  inconvenient  accommodations, 
very  ditlerent  from  their  homes,  and  comfort 
themselves  with  thinking  they  are  not  always 
to  live  so;  so  the  christian  is  not  greatly  soli- 
citous about  e.xternals.  If  he  has  them,  he 
will  use  them  moderately.  If  he  has  but  little 
of  them,  he  can  make  a  good  shift  without 
them  :  he  is  but  upon  a  journey,  and  will  soon 
be  at  home.  If  he  be  rich,  experience  con- 
firms our  Lord's  words,  Luke  xii.  15;  and 
satisfies  him,  that  a  large  room,  a  crowd  of 
servants,  and  twenty  dishes  upon  his  table, 
add  nothing  to  the  real  happiness  of  life. 
Therefore  he  will  not  have  his  heart  set  upon 
such  things.  If  he  be  in  a  humbler  state,  he 
is  more  disposed  to  pity  than  to  envy  those 
above  him  ;  for  he  judges  they  must  have 
many  incumbrances  from  which  he  is  freed. 
However,  the  will  of  God,  and  the  light  of 
Tiis  countenance,  are  the  chief  things  the 
christian,  whether  rich  or  poor,  regards;  and 
therefore  his  moderation  is  made  known  unto 
all  men. 

A  third  branch  of  the  christian's  temper 
respects  his  fellow-creatures.  And  here,  me- 
thinkg,  if  I  had  not  filled  a  sheet  already,  I 
•could  enlarge  with  pleasure.  We  have  in 
this  degenerate  day,  among  those  who  claim 
und  are  allowed  the  name  of  Christian,  too 


many  of  a  narrow,  Kolfish,  rnoroonary  Hpirit; 
but  in  the  beginning  it  wan  not  m.  Tho 
gospel  is  desiirned  to  euro  bucIi  o  h])irit,  hut 
gives  no  indulgence?  to  it  A  chrihtian  hoji 
the  mind  of  Christ,  who  went  alx-ut  <loinjf 
good,  who  makes  his  sun  to  shine  u[K)n  tho 
Uo<xl  and  the  rvil,  and  sendcth  rain  on  the 
just  and  the  unjust.  His  Lord's  example 
lorms  him  to  the  habit  of  dilVusive  Ix-nevo- 
lence ;  he  br(Mith(\s  a  spirit  of  g(xxl  will  to 
mankind,  and  rejoices  in  every  op|)ortunity 
of  being  useful  to  the  souls  and  bfHlie.s  of 
others,  w  ithout  respect  to  parti(\s  or  interests. 
He  conmHserate.s,  and  would  if  |X)Hsible  alle- 
viate the  miseries  of  all  around  him ;  and  if 
his  actual  services  are  restrained  by  want  of 
ability,  yet  all  share  in  his  sympathy  and 
prayers.  Acting  in  the  spirit  of  his  Master, 
he  frequently  meets  with  a  mea.^ure  of  the 
like  treatment :  but  if  his  good  is  requited 
with  evil,  he  labours  to  overcome  evil  with 
gootl.  He  feels  himself  a  sinner,  and  needs 
much  forgiveness:  this  makes  him  ready  to 
forgive.  He  is  not  haughty,  captious,  easily 
ofl'ended,  or  hard  to  be  reconciled  ;  for  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus  he  has  learned  meekness.  And 
when  he  meets  with  unkindnessor  injustice, 
he  considers,  that  though  he  has  not  deserved 
such  things  from  men,  they  are  in.struments 
employed  by  his  heavenly  Father  (from  whom 
he  has  deserved  to  sufler  nmch  more,)  for 
his  humiliation  and  chastisement;  and  is 
therefore  more  concerned  for  their  sins  than 
for  his  own  sufferings,  and  prays,  after  the 
pattern  of  his  Saviour,  "'Father,  forgive  them, 
ibr  they  know  not  what  they  do."  He 
knows  he  is  fallible ;  therefore  cannot  be 
positive.  He  knows  he  is  frail ;  and  there- 
fore dares  not  be  censorious.  As  a  member 
of  society,  he  is  just,  punctual  in  the  dis- 
charge of  every  relative  duty,  faithful  to  his 
engagements  and  promises,  renderinjr  to  all 
their  dues,  obedient  to  lawful  authority,  and 
acting  to  all  men  according  to  the  golden 
rule,  of  doing  as  he  would  be  done  by.  His 
conduct  is  simple,  devoid  of  artifice,  and  con- 
sistent, attending  to  every  branch  of  duty; 
and  in  the  closet,  the  family,  the  church,  and 
the  transactions  of  common  life,  he  is  the 
same  man ;  for  in  every  circumstance  he 
serves  the  Lord,  and  aims  to  maintain  a  con- 
science void  of  offence  in  his  sight.  No 
small  part  of  the  beauty  of  his  profession  in 
the  sight  of  men,  consists  in  the  due  govern- 
ment of  his  tongue.  The  law  of  truth,  and 
kindness,  and  purity,  is  upon  his  lips.  He 
abhors  lying;  and  is  so  far  from  inventing  a 
slander,  that  he  will  not  repeat  a  report  to 
the  disadvantage  of  his  neighbour,  liowever 
true,  without  a  proper  call.  His  converse  is 
cheerful,  but  inoffensive;  and  he  will  no  more 
wound  another  with  his  wit  (if  he  has  a  ta- 
lent that  way)  than  with  a  knife.  His 
speech  is  with  grace,  seasoned  with   salt. 


233 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


[let.  XXV. 


and  suited  to  promote  the  peace  and  edifica- 
tion of  all  around  him. 

Such  is  the  christian  in  civil  life ;  but 
though  he  loves  all  mankind,  he  stands  in  a 
nearer  relation,  and  boars  an  especial  bro- 
therly love,  to  all  who  are  partakers  of  the 
faith  and  hope  of  the  trospel.  This  regard  is 
not  confined  within  the  pale  of  a  denomina- 
tion, but  extended  to  all  who  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity.  He  calls  no  man 
master  himself;  nor  does  he  wish  to  im- 
pose a  Shibboleth  of  his  own  upon  others. 
He  rejoices  in  the  image  of  God,  wherever 
he  sees  it,  and  in  the  work  of  God,  wherever 
it  is  carried  on.  Though  tenacious  of  the 
truths  wliich  the  Lord  has  taught  him,  his 
heart  is  open  to  those  who  differ  from  him 
in  less  essential  points,  and  allows  to  others 
that  right  of  private  judgment  which  he 
claims  for  himself,  and  is  disposed  to  hold 
communion  in  love  with  all  who  hold  the 
Head.  He  cannot,  indeed,  countenance 
those  who  set  aside  the  one  foundation  w'hich 
God  has  laid  in  Zion,  and  maintain  errors 
derogatory  to  the  honour  of  his  Saviour,  or 
subversive  of  tiie  faith  and  experience  of  his 
people;  yet  he  wishes  well  to  their  persons, 
pities  and  prays  for  them,  and  is  ready  in 
meekness  to  instruct  them  that  oppose ;  but 
there  is  no  bitterness  in  his  zeal,  being  sen- 
sible that  raillery  and  invective  are  dis- 
honourable to  the  cause  of  truth,  and  quite 
unsuitable  in  the  mouth  of  a  sinner,  who 
owes  all  that  distinguishes  him  from  the 
vilest  of  men  to  the  free  grace  of  God.  In  a 
word,  he  is  influenced  by  the  wisdom  from 
above,  which,  as  it  is  purg,  is  likewise  peace- 
able, gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated,  full  of 
mercy  and  good  works,  without  partiality, 
and  without  hypocrisy. 

I  must  just  recur  to  my  first  head,  and 
observe,  that  with  this  spirit  and  deportment, 
the  christian,  while  he  is  enabled  to  main- 
tain a  conscience  void  of  offence  towards  God 
end  man,  is  still  sensible  and  mindful  of  in- 
dwelling sin.  He  has  his  eye  more  upon 
his  rule  than  upon  his  attainments;  and 
therefore  finds  and  confesses,  that  in  every 
thing  he  comes  exceedingly  short,  and  that 
his  best  services  are  not  only  defective,  but 
defiled.  He  accounts  himself  an  unprofitable 
servant,  is  abased  in  his  own  eyes,  and  de- 
rives all  his  hope  and  comfort,  as  well  as  his 
strength,  from  Jesus,  whom  he  has  known, 
received,  and  trusted,  to  whom  he  has  com- 
mitted his  soul,  in  whom  he  rejoices,  and 
worships  God  in  the  spirit,  renouncing  all 
confidence  in  the  flesh,  and  esteeming  all 
things  as  loss,  for  the  excellency  of  the  know- 
ledge of  Christ  Jesus  his  Lord. 

If  I  have  lately  been  rather  tardy  in  making 
my  payments  to  your  I^ordship,  I  have  pro- 
portionably  increased  the  quantity.  It  is 
high  time  I  should  now  relieve  your  patience. 


I  hope  I  long  to  be  a  christian  indeed ;  and  I 
hope  this  hasty  exemplification  of  my  wishes 
will  answer  to  your  Lordship's  experience 
better  than  I  fear  it  does  to  my  own.  May 
I  beg  a  remembrance  in  your  prayers,  that 
he  who  has  given  me  to  will  and  desire,  may 
work  in  me  to  be  and  to  do  according  to  his 
own  good  pleasure. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXV. 

November  — 1776. 
MY  LORD, — My  London  journey,  which  pre- 
vented my  writing  in  October,  made  me 
amends  by  an  opportunity  of  waiting  upon 
your  Lordship  in  person.  Such  seasons  are 
not  only  pleasant  at  the  time,  but  afford  me 
pleasure  in  the  review.  I  could  have  w' ished 
the  half-hour  we  were  together  by  ourselves 
prolonged  to  half  a  day.  The  subject  your 
Lordship  was  pleased  to  suggest  has  been 
often  upon  my  mind  ;  and  glad  should  I  be, 
were  I  able  to  offer  you  any  thing  satisfac- 
tory upon  it.  There  is  no  doubt  but  first 
religious  impressions  are  usually  mingled 
with  much  of  a  legal  spirit ;  and  that  con- 
science at  such  a  time  is  not  only  tender,  but 
misinformed  and  scrupulous ;  and  I  believe, 
as  your  Lordship  intimated,  that  when  the 
mind  is  more  enlightened,  and  we  feel  a 
liberty  from  many  fetters  we  had  imposed 
upon  ourselves,  we  are  in  danger  of  verging- 
too  far  towards  the  other  extreme.  It  seems  to 
me  that  no  one  person  can  adjust  the  medium, 
and  draw  the  line  exactly  for  another.  There 
are  so  many  particulars  in  every  situation, 
of  which  a  stranger  cannot  be  a  competent 
judge,  and  the  best  human  advices  and  models 
are  mixed  with  such  defects,  that  it  is  not 
right  to  expect  others  to  be  absolutely  guided 
by  our  rules,  nor  is  it  safe  for  us  implicitly 
to  adopt  the  decisions  or  practices  of  others. 
But  the  scriptures  undoubtedly  furnish  suffi- 
cient and  infallible  rules  for  every  person, 
however  circumstanced ;  and  the  throne  of 
grace  is  appointed  for  us  to  wait  upon  the 
Lord  for  the  best  exposition  of  his  precepts. 
Thus  David  often  prays  to  be  led  in  the  right 
way,  in  the  path  of  judgment.  By  frequent 
prayer  and  close  acquaintance  with  the  sciip- 
tures,  and  an  habitual  attention  to  the  frame 
of  our  hearts,  there  is  a  certain  delicacy  of 
spiritual  taste  and  discernment  to  be  ac- 
quired, which  renders  a  nice  disquisition 
concerning  the  nature  and  limits  of  the  «Jia- 
phora,  as  they  are  called,  or  how  near  we 
may  go  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  what  is  right, 
without  being  wrong,  quite  unnecessary. 
Love  is  the  clearest  and  most  persuasive 
casuist ;  and  when  our  love  to  the  Lord  is  in 
lively  exercise,  and  the  rule  of  his  word  is  in 
our  eye,  we  seldom  make  great  mistakes 


XXV.] 


/XTYKiUS  'lO  A  xNOBLIvMA.N. 


m 


And  I  lu'liovo  tlioovortloinfjs  of  i  yoiinfj  con- 
vert, priK-ct'diiiir  tri)m  an  honest  siniplicitv 
of  heart,  and  a  dcsin;  itf  |)K'iu<niy  iht?  I^)rd, 
aro  more  nccrptahh;  in  his  si;r|,t,  than  a 
certain  c^Kdnossof  rondnrt  which  fretjuently 
takes  place  aflerwards,  wIumi  we  are  apt  to 
look  hack  with  pity  n|K)n  onr  former  weak- 
ness, and  secretly  to  appland  onrselve.s  for 
our  present  i^reater  attaiiunents  in  know- 
ledu;e,  though  perhaps  (alas  that  it  shonld 
ever  he  so !)  we  may  have  lost  as  mnch  in 
warmth  as  wt>  have  j^iined  in  lii^ht. 

From  tlh»  time  wo  know  the  Lord,  and  aro 
boinul  to  him  by  the  conls  of  love  and  j^rati- 
tude,  the  two  chief  |X)ints  we  shonld  have  in 
onr  view,  I  apprehend,  are  to  maintain  com- 
mnnion  with  him  in  our  own  souls,  and  to 
glority  him  in  the  sii^ht  of  men.  Ao^reeablc 
to  these  views,  thouj^h  the  scriptures  do  not 
enumerate  or  decide,  totidcm  verbis,  for  or 
anrainst  many  thinsfs  which  some  plead  for, 
and  others  condemn ;  yet  they  furnish  us 
with  some  Qfoneral  canons,  which,  if  riiifhtly 
applied,  will  perhaps  ijo  a  ijood  way  towards 
settling  the  debate,  at  least  to  the  satisfaction 
of  those  who  would  rather  please  God  tiian 
man.  Some  of  these  canons  I  will  just  mark 
to  your  Lordship; — Rom.  xii.  1,  '2;  1  Cor. 
viii.  13  and  x.  31;  2  Cor.  vi.  17;  Ephes. 
iv.  30;  Ephes.  v.  11.  L"),  16;  1  Thes.  v.  22; 
Ephes.  vi.  IS ;  to  which  I  may  add,  as  suit- 
able to  the  present  times,  Isa.  xxii.  12 ;  Luke 
xxi.  34.  1  apprehend  the  spirit  of  these  and 
similar  passag-es  of  scripture  (for  it  would  be 
easy  to  adduce  a  larg'er  number)  will  bring  a 
christian  under  such  restrictions  as  follow : 

To  avoid  and  forbear,  for  his  own  sake, 
whatever  has  a  tendency  to  damp  and  indis- 
pose his  spirit  in  attendance  upon  the  means 
of  grace;  for  such  things,  if  they  be  not  con- 
demned as  sinful  per  se,  if  they  be  not  abso- 
lutely unlawful,  yea  though  they  be,  when 
duly  regulated,  lawful  and  right  (for  often 
our  chief  snares  are  entwined  with  our  bless- 
ings ;)  yet  if  they  have  a  repeated  and  evi- 
dent tendency  to  deaden  our  hearts  to  divine 
things,  of  which  each  person's  experience 
must  determine,  there  must  be  something  in 
them,  either  in  season,  measure,  or  circum- 
stance, wrong  to  us ;  and  let  them  promise 
what  they  will,  they  do  but  rob  us  of  our 
gold  to  pay  us  with  counters.  For  the  light 
of  God's  countenance,  and  an  open  cheerful- 
ness of  spirit  in  walking  with  him  in  private, 
is  our  chief  joy ;  and  we  must  be  already 
greatly  hurt,  if  any  thing  can  be  pursued, 
allowed,  or  rested  in,  as  a  tolerable  substitute 
for  it. 

For  the  sake  of  the  church,  and  the  influ- 
ence example  may  have  upon  his  fellow-chris- 
tians,  the  law  of  charity  and  prudence  will 
often  require  a  believer  to  abstain  from  some 
things,  not  because  they  are  unlawful,  but 
inexpedient.      Thus    the    apostle,    though 


strentiou?*  for  the  right  of  his  christian  li- 
berty, wotdd  have  iihridged  hiniHelf  (»f  tho 
use,  so  as  to  eat  no  tiesh,  rather  than  otfend 
a  weak  hrotlu-r,  rather  than  mislefKl  hnn  to 
act  against  the  present  light  of  his  con- 
science. Upon  this  principle,  if  I  could, 
without  hurt  to  myself,  attend  Home  |)uhlic 
anuisements,  as  a  concert  or  (jratorio,  and  re- 
turn from  thence  with  a  warm  heart  to  my 
closet  (the  jiossihility  of  which  in  my  own 
case  I  greatly  (piestion;)  yet  I  shonld  think 
it  my  duty  to  f()rb<'ar,  lest  some  weaker  than 
myself  shoiUd  be  encourage<l  by  me  to  make 
the  like  experiment,  though  in  their  own 
minds  they  might  fear  it  was  wrong,  and 
have  no  other  reason  to  think  it  lawful  but 
because  I  did  it;  in  which  case,  I  should 
suspect,  that  though  I  received  no  harm, 
they  would.  And  I  have  known  and  con- 
versed with  some,  who  I  fear  have  made 
shipwreck  of  their  profession,  who  have  dated 
their  first  decline  from  imitating  others, 
whom  they  thought  wiser  and  better  than 
themselves,  in  such  kind  of  compliances. 
And  it  seems  that  an  obligation  to  this  sort 
of  self-denial  rises  and  is  strengthened  in 
proportion  to  the  weight  and  influence  of 
our  characters.  Were  I  in  private  life,  I  do 
not  know  that  I  should  think  it  sinful  to  kill 
a  partridge  or  a  hare ;  but,  as  a  minister,  I 
no  more  dare  do  it  than  I  dare  join  in  a 
drunken  frolic,  because  I  know  it  would  give 
offence  to  some,  and  be  pleaded  for  as  a  li- 
cence by  others. 

There  is  a  duty,  and  a  charity  likewise, 
which  we  ow'e  to  the  world  at  large,  as  well 
as  a  faithfulness  to  God  and  his  grace,  in  our 
necessary  converse  among  them.  This  seems 
to  require,  that  though  we  should  not  be 
needlessly  singular,  yet,  for  their  instruction, 
and  for  the  honour  of  our  Lord  and  Master, 
we  should  keep  up  a  certain  kind  of  singu- 
larity, and  show  ourselves  called  to  be  a 
separated  people; — that  though  the  provi- 
dence of  God  has  given  us  callings  and 
relations  to  fill  up  (in  which  we  cannot  be 
too  exact,)  yet  we  are  not  of  the  world,  but 
belong  to  another  community,  and  act  from 
other  principles,  by  other  rules,  and  to  other 
ends,  than  the  generality  of  those  about  us. 
I  have  observed,  that  the  world  will  oflea 
leave  professors  in  quiet  possession  of  their 
notions  and  sentiments,  and  places  of  worship, 
provided  they  will  not  be  too  stiff  in  the  mat- 
ter of  conformity  with  their  more  general 
customs  and  amusements.  But  I  fear  many 
of  them  have  had  their  prejudices  strength 
ened  against  our  holy  religion  by  such  com 
pliances,  and  have  thought,  that  if  there  were 
such  joy  and  comfort  to  be  found  in  the  ways 
of  God  as  they  hear  from  our  pulpits,  profes- 
sors would  not,  in  such  numbers,  and  so  oflen, 
run  amongst  them,  to  beg  a  relief  from  the 
burden  of  time  hanging  upon  their  hands. 


240 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBLEMAN. 


As  our  Lord  Jesus  is  the  great  representa- 
tive of  his  people  in  heaven,  he  docs  thorn 
the  honour  to  continue  a  succession  of  them 
as  ills  representalives  upon  earth.  Happy 
are  they  who  arc  favoured  wiUi  most  of  tlie 
lioly  unction,  and  host  enahlod  to  manifest 
to  all  around  them,  hy  their  spirit,  tempers, 
and  conversation,  what  is  the  proper  desi/rn 
and  genuine  etfect  of  his  gospel  upon  the 
hearts  of  sinners. 

In  our  way  of  little  life  in  the  country, 
serious  people  oflen  complain  of  the  snares 
they  moot  with  from  worldly  people,  and  yet 
they  must  mix  with  them  to  get  a  livelihood. 
I  advise  them,  if  they  can,  to  do  their  busi- 
ness with  the  world  as  they  do  it  in  the  rain. 
If  their  business  calls  them  abroad,  they  will 
not  leave  it  undone  for  fear  of  being  a  little 
wet;  but  then,  when  it  is  done,  they  pre- 
sently seek  shelter,  and  will  not  stand  in  the 
rain  for  pleasure  :  so  providential  and  neces- 
sary calls  of  duty,  that  lead  us  into  the  world, 
will  not  hurt  us,  if  we  find  the  spirit  of  the 
world  unpleasant,  and  are  glad  to  retire  from 
it,  and  keep  out  of  it  as  much  as  our  relative 
duties  will  permit.  That  which  is  our  cross 
is  not  so  likely  to  be  our  snare ;  but  if  that 
spirit  which  we  should  always  watch  and 
pray  against,  infects  and  assimilates  our 
minds  to  itself,  then  we  are  sure  to  suffer 
loss,  and  act  below  the  dignity  of  our  profes- 
sion. 

The  value  of  time  is  likewise  to  be  taken 
into  the  account.  It  is  a  precious  talent, 
and  our  christian  profession  opens  a  wide 
field  for  the  due  improvement  of  it.  Much  of 
it  has  been  already  lost,  and  therefore  wc'are 
exhorted  to  redeem  it.  I  think  many  things 
which  custom  pleads  for  will  be  excluded 
from  a  suitableness  to  a  christian,  for  this 
one  reason,  that  they  are  not  consistent  with 
the  simplest  notion  of  the  redemption  of  time. 
It  is  generally  said,  we  need  relaxation ;  I 
allow  it  in  a  sense;  the  Lord  himself  has 
provided  it ;  and  because  our  spirits  are  too 
weak  to  be  always  upon  the  wing  in  medi- 
tation and  prayer,  he  has  appointed  to  all 
men,  from  the  king  downwards,  something 
to  do  in  a  secular  way.  The  poor  are  to 
labour,  the  rich  are  not  exempted  from  some- 
thing equivalent.  And  when  every  thing  of 
this  sort  in  each  person's  situation  is  pro- 
perly attended  to,  I  apprehend,  if  the  heart 
be  alive  and  in  a  right  state,  spiritual  con- 
cernments will  present  themselves,  as  afford- 
ing the  noblest,  sweetest,  and  most  interest- 
ing relaxation  from  the  cares  and  business 
of  life;  as  on  the  other  hand,  that  business 
will  be  the  best  relaxation  and  unbending  of 
the  mind  from  rcdigious  exercises ;  and  be- 
tween the  two,  perhaps  there  ought  to  be 
but  little  mere  leisure  time.  A  life  in  this 
sense,  divided  between  God  and  the  world, 
is  desirable ;  when  one  part  of  it  is  spent  in 


[let.  XXV. 

retirement,  seeking  after  and  conversing  ■ 
with  him  whom  our  souls  love ;  and  the  other 
part  of  it  employed  in  active  services  for  the 
good  of  our  family,  friends,  the  church,  and 
society,  for  his  sake.  Every  hour  which 
does  not  fall  in  with  one  or  other  of  these 
views,  I  apprehend,  is  lost  time. 

The  day  in  which  we  live  seems  likrwise 
to  call  for  something  of  a  peculiar  spirit  in 
the  Ix)rd's  people.  It  is  a  day  of  abounding 
sin,  and,  I  fear,  a  day  of  impending  judg- 
ment. The  world,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
Noah  and  Lot,  is  secure.  We  are  soon  to 
have  a  day  of  apparent  humiliation ;  but  the 
just  causes  for  it  are  not  confined  to  one  day, 
but  will  subsist,  and  too  probably  increase, 
every  day.  If  I  am  not  mistaken  in  the  signs 
of  the  times,  there  never  was,  within  the 
annals  of  the  English  history,  a  period  in 
which  the  spirit  and  employment  described, 
Ezek.  ix.  4,  could  be  more  suitable  than  the 
present.  The  Lord  calls  for  mourning  and 
weeping ;  but  the  words  of  many  are  stout 
against  him.  New  species  of  dissipation 
are  invented  almost  daily,  and  the  lan- 
guage of  those  who  bear  the  greatest 
sway  in  what  is  called  the  polite  circle,  I 
mean  the  interpretative  language  of  their 
hearts,  is  like  that  of  the  rebellious  Jews, 
Jer.  xliv.  16,  17,  &c.  "  As  for  the  word 
which  thou  hast  spoken,  we  will  not  hearken 
unto  thee  at  all."  In  short,  things  are  com- 
ing to  a  point,  and  it  seems  to  be  almost  put- 
ting to  the  vote,  whether  the  Lord  or  Baa 
be  God.  In  this  state  of  affairs,  methinks, 
we  cannot  be  too  explicit  in  avowing  our  at- 
tachment to  the  Lord,  nor  too  careful  in 
avoiding  an  improper  correspondence  with 
those  who  are  in  confederacy  against  him. 
We  know  not  how  soon  w^e  may  greatly 
need  that  mark  of  providential  protection 
which  is  restrained  to  those  who  sigh  and 
cry  for  our  abominations.  Upon  the  whole,  it 
appears  to  me,  that  it  is  more  honourable, 
comfortable,  and  safe  (if  we  cannot  exactly 
hit  the  golden  mean,)  to  be  thought  by  some 
too  scrupulous  and  precise,  than  actually  to 
be  found  too  compliant  w^ith  those  things 
which,  if  not  absolutely  contrary  to  a  divine 
commandment,  are  hardly  compatible  with 
the  genius  of  the  gospel  or  conformable  to 
the  mind  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus,  which 

j  ought  also  to  be  in  his  people.  The  places 
and  amusements  which  the  world  frequent 
and  admire,  where  occasions  and  temptations 
to  sin  are  cultivated,  where  the  law  of  what 
is  called  good  breeding  is  ihe  only  law  which 
may  not  be  violated  with  impunity,  where 
sinful  passions  are  provoked  and  indulged, 
where  the  fear  of  God  is  so  little  known  or 
regarded,  that  those  who  do  fear  him  must 
hold  their  tongues,  though  they  should  hear 
his  name  blasphemed,  can  hardly  be  a  chris- 

I  tian's  voluntary  chosen  ground.     Yet  I  fear 


Lvr.  XXVI. 1 


LKTTKRS  TO  A  NOHLHMAN. 


2M1 


.these  ch!iruct»»rs  will  apply  to  every  kind  of 
ibly  in  the  kin<,'- 
duin. 


polite  ainuseinont  or  asdcinl 


As  to  family  connoxions,  F  cannot  think 
wo  are  bound  to  hroak  or  sli^rlit  thoin.  JJiit 
AS  believers  and  their  iVn'nds  often  live  as  it 
were  in  two  oltMntMits,  ther»^  is  a  nnitual 
awkwardness,  which  makes  their  interviews 
rathtT  dry  and  tedions.  But,  \i\Mm  that  ac- 
count, they  lire  less  freijiient  than  they 
would  otherwise  be,  which  seenns  an  advan- 
ta;;e.  IJoth  sidles  keep  up  returns  of  civility 
and  affection;  but  as  they  cannot  unite  in 
sentiment  and  leadini:;'  inclination,  they  will 
not  contrive  to  bo  very  otlen  to^ji-ether,  ex- 
cept there  is  somethinii^  considerable  (riven 
up  by  one  or  the  other;  and  I  think  chris- 
tians ouiij-ht  to  be  very  cautious  what  conces- 
sions they  make  upon  this  account.  But  as 
I  said  at  the  bei^inning,  no  general  positive 
rules  can  be  laid  down. 

I  have  simply  ffiven  your  Lordship  such 
thouo^hts  as  have  occurred  to  mc  while  writ- 
innf,  without  study,  and  without  coherence. 
I  dare  not  be  dogmatical ;  but  I  think  what 
I  have  written  is  agreeable  both  to  particu- 
lar texts,  and  to  the  general  tenor  of  scrip- 
ture. I  submit  it  to  your  judgment. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXVL 

July  — 1777. 

MY  LORD, — I  owe  your  Lordship  a  quire 
of  letters  for  the  favour  and  pleasure  of  your 
late  visit ;  and  therefore  I  must  begin  and 
write  away. 

I  have  lately  read  Robertson's  History  of 
•Charles  V.,  which,  like  most  other  histories, 
I  consider  as  a  comment  upon  those  passages 
of  scripture  which  teach  us  the  depravity  of 
man,  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  the  ruin- 
ous effects  of  sin,  and  the  powerful,  though 
secret  rule  of  divine  providence,  moving,  di- 
recting, and  controlling  the  designs  and  ac- 
tions of  men,  with  an  unerring  hand,  to  the 
accomplishment  of  his  own  purposes,  both 
of  mercy  and  judgment.  Without  the  clue 
and  the  light  which  the  word  of  God  affords, 
the  history  of  mankind,  of  any,  of  every  age, 
only  presents  to  view  a  labyrinth  and  a 
chaos ;  a  detail  of  wickedness  and  misery  to 
make  us  tremble,  and  a  confused  jumble  of 
interfering  incidents,  as  destitute  of  stability, 
connexion,  or  order,  as  the  clouds  which  fly 
over  our  heads.  In  this  view,  DcUrant 
reges,  plectuntur  Achivi,  may  serve  as  a 
motto  to  all  the  histories  I  have  seen ;  but, 
with  the  scripture  key,  all  is  plain,  all  is  in- 
structive. Then  I  see  verily  there  is  a  God, 
who  governs  the  earth,  who  pours  contempt 
upon  princes,  takes  the  wise  in  their  own 
crafliness,  over-rules  the  wrath  and  pride  of 
2H 


man,  to  bring  his  own  designs  to  patR,  an<l 

ri'st rains  all  that  is  not  necessary  to  that 
end  ;  blasting  th(!  best  concertfd  ••ntcrpri/.ert 
at  onc^  time,  by  means  nppriri  iitly  slight,  and 
altogether  unexp(?cted,  and  at  other  tirnofl 
producing  the  most  important  events,  from 
instruments  iind  circumstances  which  arc, 
at  first  thought,  tiK)  Ic'eble  and  trivial  to  de- 
serve notice.  I  should  like  to  see  a  writer 
of  J)r.  Robertson's  abilities  give  us  a  history 
upon  this  i)lan ;  but  i  think  liis  reflections  of 
this  sort  are  too  general,  too  cold,  and  too 
few.  What  an  empty  j)hantom  do  the  great 
men  of  the  world  i)ursue,  while  they  wage 
war  with  the  peace  of  mankind,  and  butclier, 
in  the  course  of  their  lives,  i)erhaps  iiundreda 
of  thousands,  to  maintain  the  shadow  of  au- 
thority over  distant  nations,  whom  they  can 
reach  with  no  other  influence  than  that  of 
oppression  and  devastation!  But  when  wo 
consider  those  who  are  sacrificed  to  their 
ambition,  as  justly  suffering  for  their  sins, 
then  heroes  and  conquerors  appear  in  their 
proper  light,  and  worthy  to  be  classed  with 
earthquakes  and  pestilences,  as  instruments 
of  divine  vengeance.  So  many  cares,  so 
much  pains,  so  many  mischiefs, — merely  to 
support  the  idea  a  worm  has  formed  of  hia 
own  grandeur,  is  a  proof  that  man,  by  nature, 
is  not  only  depraved,  but  infatuated.  Permit 
me  to  present  my  thoughts  to  more  advan- 
tage in  the  words  of  M.  Nicole  : 

"  Un  grand  dans  son  idee  n'est  pas  un 
seul  homme ;  c'est  un  homme  environ  de 
tons  ceux  qui  sont  a  lui,  et  qui  s'imagine 
avoir  autant  de  bras  qu'ils  en  ont  tons  en- 
semble, parce  qu'il  en  dispose  et  qu'il  les  re- 
mue.  Un  general  d'armee  se  represente 
toujours  a  luimeme  au  milieu  de  tons  ses 
soldats.  Ainsi  chacun  tache  d'occuper  le 
plus  de  place  qu'il  pent  dans  son  imagination, 
et  Ton  ne  se  pousse,  et  ne  s'aggrandit  dans 
le  monde,  que  pour  augmenter  I'idee  que 
chacun  se  forme  de  soi-meme.  Voila  le  but 
de  tous  les  desseins  ambitieux  des  hommes  I 
Alexandre  et  CcEsar  n'ont  point  eu  d'autre 
vue  dans  toutes  leurs  batailles  que  celle-lzl. 
Et  si  Ton  demande  pourquoi  le  Grand  Seig- 
neur a  fait  depuis  peu  perir  cent  mille  hom- 
mes devant  Candie,  on  pent  repondre  sure- 
ment,  que  ce  n'est  que  pour  attacher  encore 
a  cette  image  interieure  qu'il  a  de  lui-meme, 
le  titre  de  conquerant."  * 

How  awful  is  the  case  of  those  who  live 
and  die  in  such  a  spirit,  and  who  have  multi- 
plied miseries  upon  their  fellow-creatures,  in 
order  to  support  and  feed  it!  Perhaps  they 
may,  upon  their  entrance  on  another  state, 
be  accosted  by  multitudes,  to  the  purport  of 
that  sarcastical  language  in  the  prophet's 
sublime  ode  of  triumph  over  the  king  of 
Babylon,  Is.  xiv.  5 — 17. 

*  Essais  de  Morale,  vol.  i. 


242 


LETTERS  TO  A  NOBIJ^MAN. 


[let.  XXVI. 


Hie  est,  quem  fuga,  quem  pavor 
PrsBcessit  ?  hie,  quem  terricolis  gravis 
Strages  secuta  est,  vastitasque  ?  hie 

Attoniti  spuiiaior  orbis  ? 

But  though  the  effects  of  this  principle  of 
self  are  more  extensive  and  calamitous,  in 
proportion  as  those  who  are  governed  by  it 
are  more  elevated,  the  principle  itself  is  deep- 
rooted  in  every  heart,  and  is  the  spring"  of 
every  action,  till  grace  infuses  a  new  prin- 
ciple, and  self,  like  Dagon,  falls  before  the 


Lord  of  Hosts.  Great  and  small  are  but 
relative  terms  ;  and  the  passions  of  discon- 
tent, pride,  and  envy,  which,  in  the  breast 
of  a  potentate,  are  severely  felt  by  one  half 
of  Europe,  exert  themselves  with  equal 
strength  in  the  heart  of  a  peasant ,  though, 
for  want  of  materials  and  opportunities, 
their  operations  are  confined  within  narrow 
bounds.  We  are  fallen  into  a  state  of  gross 
idolatry,  and  self  is  the  idol  we  worship. — I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  S- 


LETTER  I. 

June  23,  1775. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  Iiave  met  with  interruptions, 
till  now,  or  you  would  have  heard  from  me 
Booner.  My  thoughts  have  run  much  upon 
the  subject  of  your  last,  because  I  perceive 
it  has  a  near  connexion  with  your  peace. 
Your  integ-rity  greatly  pleases  mo ;  far  be  it 
from  me  to  shake  the  principle  of  your  con- 
duct, yet  in  the  application  I  think  tliere  is  a 
possibility  of  carrying  your  exceptions  too 
far. 

From  the  account  you  give  me  of  your  sen- 
timents, I  cannot  but  wonder  you  find  it  so 
difficult  to  accede  to  the  Athanasian  Creed, 
•when  it  seems  to  me  you  believe  and  avow 
what  that  Creed  chiefly  sets  forth.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity,  some  explication  of  the 
terms  being  subjoined,  is  the  catholic  faith, 
without  the  belief  of  which  a  man  cannot  be 
saved.  This  damnatory  clause  seems  to  me 
proved  by  Mark  xvi.  16,  "He  that  believeth 
shall  be  saved,"  &.c.  The  object  of  faith  must 
be  truth.  The  doctrine  of  the  deity  of  Christ, 
and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  union  with  the  Fa- 
ther, so  that  they  are  not  three  Gods,  but  one 
God,  is  not  merely  a  proposition  expressed  in 
words,  to  which  our  assent  is  required,  but  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  be  known,  since  with- 
out it  no  one  truth  respecting  salvation  can 
be  rightly  understood,  no  one  promise  duly 
believed,  no  one  duty  spiritually  performed. 
I  take  it  for  granted,  that  this  doctrine  must 
appear  irrational  and  absurd  in  the  eye  of 
reason,  if  by  reason  w-e  mean  the  reason  of 
man  in  his  fallen  state,  before  it  is  corrected 
and  enlightened  by  a  heavenly  teacher.  No 
man  can  say  Jesus  is  Lord,  but  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  I  believe  with  you,  that  a  man  may 
be  saved  who  never  heard  of  the  Creed,  who 
never  read  any  book  but  the  New  Testament 
or  perhaps  a  single  Evangelist;  but  he  must 
be  taught  of  God  the  things  that  accompany 
salvation,  or  I  do  not  think  he  can  be  saved. 
The  mercies  of  God  in  Christ  will  not  save 
any,  as  I  apprehend,  but  according  to  the 


method  revealed  m  his  word ;  tnat  is,  those 
who  are  truly  partakers  of  faith  and  holiness. 
For  as  tiie  religion  of  the  New  Testament 
ascribes  all  power  to  God,  and  considers  all 
goodness  in  us  as  the  effect  of  his  conmiunica 
tion,  we  being  by  nature  destitute  of  spiritual 
life  or  light,  so  those  whom  God  himself  is 
pleased  to  teach,  will  infallibly  attain  the 
knowledge  of  all  that  they  are  concerned  to 
know.  This  teaching  you  are  waiting  for, 
and  it  shall  be  given  you ;  yea,  the  Lord,  1 
trust,  has  begun  to  teach  you  already  ;  but 
if  you  consider  yourself  as  a  learner,  and 
that  it  is  possible,  under  the  Spirit's  increas- 
ing illumination,  you  may  hereafter  adopt 
some  tilings  which  at  present  you  cannot  ap- 
prove, I  should  think  it  too  early  as  yet  to 
prescribe  to  yourself  rules  and  determinations 
for  the  go\'ernment  of  your  future  life 
Should  the  will  of  God  appoint  you  a  new 
path  for  service,  he  may,  sooner  than  you  are 
aware,  quiet  your  mind,  and  enable  you  to 
subscribe  with  as  full  a  persuasion  of  mind  as 
you  now  object  to  subscription.  If  it  de- 
pended upon  me,  I  could  be  content  that  the 
Creed  should  rest  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
rather  than  embarrass  a  single  person  of  your 
disposition.  Nor  am  J  a  warm  stickler  for 
subscription  in  itself;  but  something  of  this 
kind  seems  necessary,  upon  the  supposition 
of  an  establishment. 

When  I  think  of  an  inclosure,  some  hedge, 
wall,  bank,  ditch,  &c.  is  of  course  included 
in  my  idea ;  for  who  can  conceive  of  an  in- 
closure without  a  boundary  ?  So,  in  a  na- 
tional church,  there  must  be,  I  apprehend, 
something  marked  out,  the  approbation  or 
refusal  of  which  will  determine  who  do  or  do 
not  belong  to  it ;  and  for  this  purpose  articles 
of  some  kind  seem  not  improper.  You  think 
it  would  be  better  to  have  these  articles  in 
scriptural  expressions.  But  if  it  be  lawful 
to  endeavour  to  exclude  from  our  pulpits 
men  who  hold  sentiments  the  most  repug- 
nant to  the  truth,  I  wish  you  to  consider, 
whether  this  can  be  in  any  measure  secured 
by  articles  in  which  tlie  scripture-doctrines 
243 


244 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR,  S- 


[let. 


are  not  explained  and  stated,  as  well  as  ex- 
pressed. This  proposal  is  strenuously  plead- 
ed for  by  many  in  our  day,  upon  views  very 
different  from  yours.  The  Socinians,  for  in- 
stance, would  readily  subscribe  a  scriptural 
declaration  of  the  hifjli  priesthood,  atonement, 
and  intercession  of  Christ  (while  they  are  al- 
lowed to  put  their  own  sense  upon  the  terms,) 
thoug-h  the  sense  they  maintain  be  utterly 
inconsistent  with  what  those  who  are  en- 
lightened by  the  Holy  Spirit  learn  from  the 
same  expressions. 

I  acknowledge,  indeed,  that  the  end  is  not 
answered  by  the  present  method ;  since  there 
are  too  many,  like  the  person  you  mention, 
who  would  easily  subscribe  nine  hundred  ar- 
ticles, rather  than  baulk  his  preferment :  yet 
the  profligacy  of  some  seems  to  be  no  just 
reason  why  the  church,  why  any  church, 
ehould  not  be  at  liberty  to  define  the  terms 
upon  which  they  will  accept  members  or 
teachers,  or  why  conscientious  persons  should 
object  to  these  terms  (if  they  think  them 
agreeable  to  the  truth,)  merely  because  they 
are  not  expressed  in  the  precise  words  of 
scripture.  If  allowance  may  be  made  for 
human  infirmity  in  the  Liturgy,  I  see  not 
why  the  Articles  may  not  be  entitled  to  the 
same  privilege.  For  it  seems  requisite  that 
we  should  be  as  well  satisfied  with  the  ex- 
pressions we  use  with  our  lips,  in  frequent 
solemn  prayer  to  God,  as  in  what  we  subscribe 
with  our  hands.  I  am  persuaded  that  the 
leaders  of  the  Association  at  the  Feathers 
Tavern,  some  of  them  at  least,  though  they 
begin  with  the  affair  of  subscription,  would 
not  (if  they  might  have  their  wish)  stop  there, 
but  would  go  on  with  their  projected  reform, 
till  they  had  overturned  the  Liturgy  also,  or 
at  least  weeded  it  from  every  expression  that 
bears  testimony  to  the  deity  of  the  Saviour, 
and  the  efficacious  influence  of  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit. I  bless  God  tliat  you  are  far  otherwise 
minded. 

I  hope,  however,  though  you  should  not 
think  yourself  at  liberty  to  repeat  your  sub- 
scription, the  Lord  will  make  you  comforta- 
ble and  useful  in  your  present  rank  as  a  cu- 
rate. Preferment  is  not  necessary,  either  to 
our  peace  or  usefulness.  We  may  live  and 
die  contentedly,  w^ithout  the  honours  and 
emoluments  which  aspiring  men  thirst  after, 
if  he  be  pleased  to  honour  us  with  a  dispen- 
sation to  preach  his  gospel,  and  to  crown  our 
endeavours  with  a  blessing.  He  that  win- 
neth  souls  is  wise ;  wise  in  the  choice  of  the 
hisrhest  end  he  can  propose  to  himself  in  this 
life ;  wise  in  the  improvement  of  the  only 
means  by  which  this  desirable  end  can  be  at- 
tained. Wherever  we  cast  our  eyes,  the  bulk 
of  the  people  are  ignorant,  immoral,  careless. 
Th«^y  live  without  God  in  the  world ;  they  are 
neither  awed  by  his  authority,  nor  affected  by 
his  goodness,  nor  enabled  to  trust  to  his  pro- 
mises, nor  disposed  to  ami  at  his  glory.     If, 


perhaps,  they  have  a  serious  interval,  or  some 
comparative  sobriety  of  character,  they  ground 
their  hopes  upon  their  own  doings,  endeavours, 
or  purposes ;  and  treat  the  inexpressible  love 
of  God  revealed  in  Christ,  and  the  gospel 
method  of  salvation  by  faith  in  his  name,  with 
neglect,  often  with  contempt.  They  have 
preachers,  whom  perhaps  they  hear  with  some 
pleasure  because  they  neither  alarm  their 
consciences  by  insisting  on  the  spirituality  and 
sanction  of  the  divine  law,  nor  offend  their 
pride  by  publishing  the  humiliating  doctrines 
of  that  gospel,  which  is  the  power  of  God 
through  faith  unto  salvation.  Therefore 
what  they  do  speak,  they  speak  in  vain ;  the 
world  grows  worse  and  worse  under  their  in- 
structions; infidelity  and  profligacy  abound 
more  and  more ;  for  God  will  own  no  other 
doctrine  but  what  the  apostle  calls  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesus ;  that  doctrine  which  drives 
the  sinner  from  all  his  vain  pleas,  and  points 
out  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  the  only  ground 
of  hope,  the  supreme  object  of  desire,  as  ap- 
pointed of  God  to  be  wisdom,  righteousness, 
sanctification,  and  redemption,  to  all  who  be- 
lieve in  his  name.  When  ministers  them- 
selves are  convinced  of  sin,  and  feel  the  ne- 
cessity of  an  almighty  Saviour,  they  pre- 
sently account  their  former  gain  but  loss,  and 
determine,  with  the  apostle,  to  know  nothing 
but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified.  In  pro- 
portion as  they  do  this,  they  are  sure  to  be 
wondered  at,  laughed  at,  and  railed  at,  if  the 
providence  of  God  and  the  constitution  of 
their  country,  secure  them  from  severer  treat- 
ment. But  they  have  this  invaluable  com- 
pensation, that  they  no  longer  speak  without 
effect.  In  a  greater  or  less  degree  a  change 
takes  place  in  their  auditories ;  the  blind  re- 
ceive their  sight,  the  deaf  hear,  the  lepers  are 
cleansed; — sinners  are  turned  from  darkness 
to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  to  God ; 
— sinful  practices  are  forsaken ;  and  a  new 
course  of  life  in  the  converts,  evidences  that 
they  have  not  followed  cunningly-devised 
fables,  or  taken  up  with  uncertain  notions; 
but  that  God  has  indeed  quickened  them  by 
his  Spirit,  and  given  them  an  understanding 
to  know  him  that  is  true.  The  preacheis, 
likewise,  while  they  attempt  to  teach  others, 
are  taught  themselves :  a  blessing  descends 
upon  their  studies  and  labours,  upon  their 
perusal  of  the  scriptures,  upon  their  attention 
to  what  passes  within  them  and  around  them. 
The  events  of  every  day  contribute  to  thpjW 
light  upon  the  word  of  God :  their  views  of 
divine  truth  grow  more  enlarged,  connected, 
and  comprehensive ;  many  difficulties  which 
perplexed  them  at  their  first  setting  out, 
trouble  them  no  more ;  the  God  whom  they 
serve,  and  on  whom  they  wait,  reveals  to 
them  those  great  things,  which,  though 
plainly  expressed  in  the  letter  of  scripture, 
cannot  be  understood  and  realized  without 
divine  teaching,  I  Cor.  ii.  9  to  15.     Thus 


LET.   II.] 


ij:tters  to  Till-:  rkv.  Mit  s- 


^15 


thoy  j!fo  on  from  strength  to  str.Miiftli;  linnl 
lhini»'s  l)('con\i>  easy,  iind  ii  iliviiu'  li;:;!it  sliint'ji 
U|)oii  tluMr  paths.  OpjKKsition  from  iiumi  per- 
haps may  moroa><o ;  tiioy  may  expect  to  bo 
represonteil,  as  tijose  who  turn  the  world 
upside  down;  the  cry,  «'>»».<  f  Ajti^i;,*  will 
be  raised  a<rainst  them,  the  orates  of  the  tem- 
ple of  preferment  will  be  seldom  open  to 
them ;  bnt  they  will  have  the  nnspoakable 
consolation  of  applyinn-  to  themselves  those 
lively  words  of  the  ajxistle,  -.•  >.vt3u,ui»oi,  «»•  s, 

It  is  the  strain  of  evident  sincerity  which 
rnns  throuijh  your  letters,  that  "rives  me  a 
pleasin<c  conrtdencc  the  I/3rd  is  with  you. 
A  disinterested  desire  of  knowinir  tlie  truth, 
with  a  willini^ness  to  follow  it  throug-h  all 
disadvantai^es,  is  a  preparation  of  Uie  heart 
which  only  God  can  ^/wc.  He  has  directed 
you  to  the  rijht  metiioil,  searcliincp  the  scrip- 
tures, with  prayer.  Go  on,  and  may  his 
blessing-  attend  you.  You  may  see,  from 
what  I  have  written  above,  what  is  the  de- 
sire of  my  heart  tor  you.  But  I  am  not  im- 
patient. Follow  your  heavenly  leader,  and 
in  his  own  time  and  manner  he  will  make 
your  way  plain.  I  have  travelled  the  path 
before  you,  I  see  what  you  yet  want ;  I  can- 
not impart  it  to  you,  but  he  can,  and  I  trust 
he  will.  It  will  rejoice  my  soul  to  be  any 
way  assistant  to  you ;  but  I  am  afraid  I 
should  not  afford  you  much,  either  profit  or 
satisfaction,  by  entering  upon  a  dry  defence 
of  creeds  and  articles. 

The  truths  of  scripture  are  not  like  mathe- 
matical theorems,  whicli  present  exactly  the 
same  ideas  to  every  person  who  understands 
the  terms.  The  word  of  God  is  compared 
to  a  mirror,  2  Cor.  iii.  18 :  but  it  is  a  mirror 
in  which  the  longer  we  look  the  more  we 
see ;  the  view  will  be  still  growing  upon  us ; 
and  still  we  shall  see  but  in  part  while  on 
this  side  eternity.  When  our  Lord  pro- 
nounced Peter  blessed,  declaring  he  had 
learnt  that  which  flesh  and  blood  could  not 
have  taught  him,  yet  Peter  was  at  that  time 
much  in  the  dark.  The  sufferings  and  death 
of  Jesus,  though  the  only  and  necessary 
means  of  his  salvation,  \vere  an  offence  to 
him.  But  he  lived  to  .glory  in  what  he  once 
could  not  bear  to  hear  of  Peter  had  re- 
ceived grace  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  follow 
him,  to  venture  all,  and  to  forsake  all  for 
him;  these  first  good  dispositions  were  of 
Grod,  and  they  led  to  further  advances.  So 
it  is  still.  By  nature,  self  rules  in  the  heart: 
when  this  idol  is  brought  low,  and  we  are 
truly  willing  to  be  the  Lord's,  and  to  apply 
to  him  for  strength  and  direction,  that  we 
may  serve  him,  the  good  \vork  is  begun  ;  for 
it  is  a  truth  that  upholds  universally  and 
without  exception,  a  man  can  receive  noth- 
ing except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven.  The 


I/)rd  first  finds  us  wh^n  we  are  thinkinjf  of 
something  (dse,  Isaiah  Ixv.  1  ;  and  th«'n  wo 
begin  to  seek  him  in  ginxl  earfic^t,  and  ho 
has  promised  to  be  tound  of  us.  I'copio  may, 
by  industry  and  natural  abilities,  mak*;  them- 
selves masters  of  the  external  evid<'nces  of 
cliristianity,  and  have  much  to  say  tor  and 
against  different  .schemes  and  systems  of 
sentiments;  but  all  this  while  the  heart  re- 
mains untouched.  True  ndigion  is  not  a 
science  of  the  head,  so  much  as  an  inward 
and  heartfelt  perception,  which  casts  down 
imaginations,  and  every  <^>  -y*  that  exalteth 
itself  in  the  mind,  and  brinifs  every  tliought 
into  a  sweet  and  willing  subjection  to  Christ 
by  faith.  Here  the  learned  have  no  real  ad- 
vantage above  the  ignorant ;  both  see  when 
the  eyes  of  the  understanding  are  enlight- 
ened ;  till  then  both  are  equally  blind.  And 
the  first  lesson  in  the  school  of  Christ  is  to 
become  a  little  child,  sitting  simply  at  his 
feet,  that  we  may  be  made  wise  unto  salva- 
tion. 

I  was  not  only  prevented  beginning  my 
letter  so  soon  as  I  wished,  but  have  been  un- 
usually interrupted  since  I  began  it.  Often, 
as  soon  as  I  could  well  take  the  pen  in  hand, 
I  have  been  called  away  to  attend  company 
and  intervening  business.  Though  I  per- 
suade myself,  after  what  I  have  formerly 
said,  you  will  put  a  favourable  construction 
upon  my  delay,  yet  it  has  given  me  some 
pain.  I  set  a  great  value  upon  your  offer  of 
friendship,  which,  I  trust,  will  not  be  inter- 
rupted on  either  side  by  the  freedom  with 
which  we  mutually  express  our  difference  of 
sentiments,  when  we  are  constrained  to  differ. 
You  please  me  with  entrusting  me  with  the 
first  rough  draught  of  your  thoughts ;  and 
you  may  easily  perceive  by  my  manner  of 
writing,  that  I  place  equal  confidence  in 
your  candour.  I  shall  be  glad  to  exchange 
letters  as  often  as  it  suits  us,  without  con- 
straint, ceremony,  or  apology;  and  may  he 
who  is  always  present  with  our  hearts  make 
our  correspondence  useful.  I  pray  God  to  be 
your  sun  and  shield,  your  light  and  strength, 
to  guide  you  with  his  eye,  to  comfort  you 
with  his  gracious  presence  in  your  own 
soul,  and  to  make  you  a  happy  instrument 
of  comforting  many. —  I  am,  &.c. 


•  Great  is  Diana. 


t  2  Cor.  vi.  10. 


LETTER  II. 

July  14,  1775. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  gladly  adopt  your 
address,  and  can  assure  you  that  the  inter- 
change of  every  letter  unites  my  heart  more 
closely  to  you.  I  am  glad  to  find  that  your 
views  of  articles  and  creeds  are  not  likely  to 
hinder  you  from  going  forward  in  your  pre- 
sent situation ;  and  if,  without  contracting 
your  usefulness,  they  only  prove  a  bar  to 


246 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


your  preferment,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  no 
grief  of  mind  to  you  at  the  hour  of  death,  or 
the  day  of  judf^ment,  that  you  were  enabled 
to  follow  the  dictiitcs  of  conscience,  in  oppo- 
sition to  all  the  pleas  of  custom  or  interest. 
Since,  therefore,  I  have  no  desire  of  shaking 
your  resolves,  may  we  not  drop  this  subject 
entirely  ?  For,  indeed,  I  act  but  an  awk- 
ward part  in  it,  being  by  no  means  myself 
an  admirer  of  articles  and  creeds,  or  disposed 
to  be  a  warm  advocate  for  church-power. 
The  propriety  of  our  national  establishment, 
or  of  any  other,  is  what  I  have  not  much  to 
do  with ;  I  found  it  as  it  is,  nor  have  I  influ- 
ence to  alter  it  were  I  willing-.  The  question 
in  wiiich  I  was  concerned  was  simply, 
Whether  I,  rehus  sic  stantibus,  could  sub- 
mit to  it,  so  as  conscientiously  to  take  a 
designation  to  the  ministry  under  it]  I 
thought  I  could :  I  accordingly  did,  and  I  am 
thankful  that  I  never  have  seen  cause  to  re- 
pent it. 

You  seem  gently  to  charge  me  with  a 
want  of  candour  in  what  I  observed  or  appre- 
hended concerning  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Feathers  Tavern.  If  I  mistake  not  (for  I  re- 
tain no  copies  of  my  letters,)  I  expressed  my- 
self with  a  double  restriction,  by  first  saying 
"  the  leaders  of  that  society,"  and  then  add- 
ing, "  or  some  of  them  at  least."  I  appre- 
hend your  candour  will  hardly  lead  you  to 
suppose  that  there  are  none  amongst  them 
who  would  pull  down  the  whole  fabric,  that 
is,  I  mean  so  far  as  it  crosses  the  Socinian 
scheme,  if  it  was  left  to  their  choice.  I  ap- 
prehend I  may,  without  the  least  breach  of 
candour,  suppose  that  the  exceptions  which 
Mr.  Lindsay  has  made  to  the  Liturgy  are 
not  peculiar  to  himself.  It  seems  plain  in 
his  case,  and  from  his  own  writings,  that  the 
mere  removal  of  subscriptions,  which  is  the 
immediate  and  ostensible  object  of  the  cleri- 
cal petition,  could  not  have  satisfied  him ;  and 
it  is  past  a  doubt  with  me,  that  there  are 
others  of  the  clergy  like  minded  with  him. 
Indeed,  I  could  wish  to  be  thought  candid 
by  you ;  though,  I  confess,  I  am  not  a  friend 
to  that  lukewarmness  and  indifference  for 
truth,  which  bears  the  name  of  candour 
among  many  in  the  present  day.  I  desire 
to  maintain  a  spirit  of  candour  and  benevo- 
lence to  all  men,  to  wish  them  well,  to  do 
them  every  good  office  in  my  power,  and  to 
commend  what  appears  to  me  commendable 
in  a  Socinian,  as  readily  as  in  a  Calvinist. 
But  with  some  people  I  can  only  go  usque 
ad  aras.  I  must  judge  of  principles  by  the 
word  of  God,  and  of  the  tree  by  its  fruit.  I 
meddle  with  no  man's  final  state ;  because  I 
know  that  he  who  is  exalted  to  give  repent- 
ance and  remission  of  sins,  can  do  it  when- 
ever, and  to  whomsoever  he  is  pleased :  yet 
I  firmly  believe,  and  I  make  no  scruple  of 
proclaiming  it,  that  swearers,  drunkards, 
adulterers,  continuing  such,  cannot  inherit 


-.  [let.  £L 

the  kingdom  of  God  ;  and  I  look  with  no  less 
compassion  upon  some  persons,  whose  charac- 
ters in  common  life  may  be  respectable,  when 
I  see  them  unhappily  blinded  by  their  own 
wisdom ;  and  while  they  account  themselves, 
arkl  are  accounted  by  many  others,  master- 
builders  in  Zion,  rejecting  the  only  founda- 
tion upon  which  a  sinner's  hope  can  be 
safely  built. 

I  am  far  from  thinking  the  Socinians  all 
hypocrites ;  but  I  think  they  are  all  in  a  most 
dangerous  error ;  nor  do  their  principles  ex- 
hibit to  my  view  a  whit  more  of  the  genuine 
fruits  of  Christianity  than  deism  itself.  You 
say,  "  if  they  be  sincere,  and  fail  not  for  want 
of  diligence  in  searching,  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing, that  God  will  not  condemn  them  for  an 
inevitable  defect  in  their  understandings." 
Indeed,  my  friend,  I  have  such  a  low  opinion 
of  man  in  his  depraved  state,  that  I  believe 
no  one  has  real  sincerity  in  religious  matters 
till  God  bestows  it ;  and  when  he  makes  a 
person  sincere  in  his  desires  after  truth,  he 
will  assuredly  guide  him  to  the  possession  of 
it  in  due  time,  as  our  Lord  speaks,  John  vi. 
44,  45.  To  suppose  that  any  persons  can 
sincerely  seek  the  way  of  salvation,  and  yet 
miss  it  through  an  inevitable  defect  of 
their  understandings,  w^ould  contradict  the 
plain  promises  of  the  gospel,  such  as  Matt, 
vii.  7,  8,  John  vii.  16,  17 ;  but  to  suppose  that 
nothing  is  necessary  to  be  known  which 
some  persons  who  profess  sincerity  cannot 
receive,  w'ould  be  in  effect  to  make  the  scrip- 
tures a  nose  of  wax  and  open  a  wide  door 
for  scepticism.  I  am  not  a  judge  of  the 
heart;  but  I  may  be  sure,  that  whoever 
makes  the  foundation-stone  a  rock  of  offence, 
cannot  be  sincere  in  his  inquiries.  He  may 
study  the  scriptures  accurately,  but  he  brings 
his  own  preconceived  sentiments  with  him, 
and,  instead  of  submitting  them  to  the  touch- 
stone of  truth,  he  makes  them  a  rule  by 
which  he  interprets.  That  they  who  lean 
to  their  own  understandings  should  stumble 
and  miscarry,  I  cannot  wonder ;  for  the  same 
God  who  has  promised  to  fill  the  hungry  with 
good  things,  has  threatened  to  send  the  rich 
empty  away.  So  Matt.  xi.  25.  It  is  not 
through  defect  of  understanding,  but  a  want 
of  simplicity  and  humility,  that  so  many 
stumble  like  the  blind  at  noon-day,  and  can 
see  nothing  of  those  great  truths  which  are 
written  in  the  gospel  as  with  a  sun-beam. 

You  wish  me  to  explain  myself  concerning 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  I  will  try ;  yet 
I  know  I  cannot,  any  farther  than  as  he  who 
taught  me  shall  be  pleased  to  bear  witness  in 
your  h6art  to  what  I  say.  My  first  principle 
in  religion  is  what  the  scriptures  teach  me 
of  the  utter  depravity  of  human  nature,  io 
connexion  with  the  spirituality  and  sanction 
of  the  law  of  God.  I  believe  we  are  by  na- 
ture sinners,  by  practice  universally  trans- 
gressors ;  that  we  are  dead  in  trespasses  and 


LET.  II.J 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


247 


einu ;  and  thai  tlio  bent  of  our  natural  spirit 
is  tMJiiiity  a^miiist  tlu»  liolinrss,  {jovorninent, 
ami  trnxco  of  (iixl.  Vynm  this  }»Tound  I  hop, 
ferl,  uiKJ  ackuo\vh»(l<,'r  tho  in«c<>s.sity  of  such  a 
salvatinn  as  the  ijospol  |)rn|H)sos,  which,  at  the 
eame  tiino  that  it  j)rt'<.luiics  iKwistiiif*',  niul 
stains  the  pride  of  all  human  «i:lory,  alli)rds 
encounijjeiutMit  to  those  who  may  he  thouirht, 
or  who  may  think  themselves,  the  weakest  or 
the  vilest  of  mankind.  I  believe,  tliat  what- 
ever notions  a  person  may  take  uj)  from  edu- 
cation, or  system,  no  one  ever  did,  or  ever 
will  feel  himself  anil  own  himself  to  be  such 
a  lost,  miserable,  hateful  sinner,  unless  he  be 
powerfully  and  supornaturally  convinced  by 
the  Spirit  of  Ciod.  There  is,  when  Go^l 
pleases,  a  certain  liii^ht  thrown  into  the  soul, 
which  differs,  not  merely  in  detrree  but  in 
kind,  toto  genrrf%  from  any  thin«i^that  can  be 
etiected  or  produced  by  moral  suasion  or  ar- 
gument. But  (to  take  in  another  of  your 
queries)  the  Holy  Spirit  teaches  or  reveals  no 
new  truths,  either  of  doctrine  or  precept ;  but 
only  enables  us  to  understand  what  is  already 
revealed  in  the  scriptures.  Here  a  chanj^e 
takes  place ;  the  person  that  was  spiritually 
blind  begins  to  see.  The  sinner's  character, 
as  described  in  the  word  of  God,  he  tinds  to 
be  a  description  of  himself;  that  he  is  afar  off, 
a  stranger,  a  rebel ;  that  he  has  hitherto  lived 
in  vain.  Now  he  begins  to  see  the  necessity 
of  an  atonement,  an  advocate,  a  shepherd,  a 
comforter ;  he  can  no  more  trust  to  his  own 
wisdom,  strength,  and  goodness,  but,  account- 
ing all  his  former  gain  but  loss,  for  the  ex- 
cellency of  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  he  re- 
nounces every  other  refuge,  and  ventures  his 
all  upon  the  person,  work,  and  promise  of  the 
Redeemer.  In  this  way,  I  say  he  will  find 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  not  only  a  propo- 
sition but  a  principle ;  that  is,  from  his  own 
wants  and  situation  he  will  have  an  abiding 
conviction  that  the  Son  and  Holy  Spirit  are 
God,  and  must  be  possessed  of  the  attributes 
and  powers  of  Deity,  to  support  the  offices 
the  scriptures  assign  them,  and  to  deserve 
the  conlidence  and  worship  the  scriptures  re- 
quire to  be  placed  in  them,  and  paid  to  them. 
Without  this  awakened  state  of  mind,  a  di- 
vine, reputed  orthodox,  will  blunder  wretch- 
edly even  in  defending  his  own  opinions.  I 
have  seen  laboured  defences  of  the  Trinity, 
which  have  given  me  not  much  more  satis- 
faction than  I  should  probably  receive  from  a 
dissertation  upon  the  rainbow,  composed  by 
a  man  blind  from  his  birth.  In  effect,  the 
knowledge  of  God  cannot  be  attained  by  stu- 
dious discussion  on  our  parts ;  it  must  be  by 
a  revelation  on  his  part,  Matt.  xi.  27,  and 
xvi.  17;  a  revelation,  not  objectively  of  new 
truth,  but  subjectively  of  new  light  in  us. 
Then  he  that  runs  may  read.  Perhaps  you 
may  not  quite  understand  my  meaning,  or 
not  accede  to  my  sclitiments  at  present;  I 
have  little  doubt,  however,  but  the  time  is 


cominpf  when  you  will.  I  Im'Hcvc  the  Lord 
G(kI  haH  given  you  that  Hincerily  which  he 
never  di.'^ip|Hiint.s. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  arrogjite  iid'nllihdity 
to  myself,  or  to  any  writer  or  preacher;  yet, 
bles.sed  be  (ujd,  I  aui  not  h'fl  to  float  up  and 
down  tin;  uncertain  tide  of  opinion,  in  ihoso 
lH)ints  wluTein  the  peace  of  my  soul  is  nearly 
concerned.  I  know,  y(>a,  I  mtiilhhiy  know, 
whom  I  have  believed.  I  am  under  no  more 
doubt  about  the  way  of  salvation  than  of  the 
way  to  London.  1  cannot  be  deceived,  be- 
cause the  word  of  G(xl  cannot  deceive  me. 
it  is  impossible,  however,  for  me  to  give  you, 
or  any  person,  full  satisfaction  concerning  my 
evidence,  because  it  is  of  an  experimental 
nature.  Rev.  ii.  17.  In  general,  it  arises 
from  the  views  I  have  received  of  the  power, 
compassion,  and  grace  of  Jesus,  and  a  con- 
sciousness that  I,  from  a  conviction  of  my 
sin  and  misery,  have  fled  to  him  for  refuge, 
entrusted  and  devoted  myself  and  my  all  to 
him.  Since  my  mind  has  been  enlightened, 
every  thing  within  me,  and  every  thing 
around  me,  confirms  and  explains  to  me  what 
I  read  in  scripture ;  and  though  I  have  reason 
enough  to  distrust  my  own  judgment  every 
hour,  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  question  the 
great  essentials,  which  the  Lord  himself  hath 
taught  me. 

Besides  a  long  letter,  I  send  you  a  great 
book.  A  part  of  it,  for  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
read  the  whole,  may  perhaps  explain  my 
meaning  better  than  I  have  leisure  to  do 
myself.  I  set  a  high  value  upon  this  book 
of  Mr.  Halyburton's ;  so  that,  unless  I  could 
replace  it  with  another,  I  know  not  if  I 
would  part  with  it  for  its  weight  in  gold. 
The  first  and  longest  treatise  is,  in  my  judg- 
ment, a  masterpiece ;  but  I  would  chiefly  wish 
you  to  peruse  the  essay  concerning  faith,  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  book.  I  need  not  beg 
you  to  read  it  carefully,  and  to  read  it  all. 
The  importance  of  the  subject,  its  immediate 
connexion  with  your  inquiries,  and  the  ac- 
curacy of  the  reasoning,  will  render  the  mo- 
tive of  my  request  unnecessary.  I  cannot 
style  him  a  very  elegant  writer ;  and,  being 
a  Scotchman,  he  abounds  with  the  Scottish 
idiom ;  but  you  will  prefer  truth  to  ornament. 
I  long  to  hear  your  opinion  of  it.  It  seems 
to  me  so  adapted  to  some  things  that  have 
passed  between  us  as  if  written  on  purpose. 

The  Inquiry  concerning  Regeneration  and 
Justification,  which  stands  last  in  the  book,  I 
do  not  desire,  or  even  wish  you  to  read  ;  but 
if  you  should,  and  then  think  that  you  have 
read  a  speculation  more  curious  than  useful, 
I  shall  not  contradict  you.  I  think  it  must 
appear  to  you  in  that  light;  but  it  was  bound 
up  with  the  rest,  and  therefore  could  not  stay 
behind ;  but  I  hope  the  Essay  on  Faith  will 
please  you. 

I  take  great  pleasure  in  your  correspond- 
ence, still  more  in  the  thought  of  your  friend- 


248 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


[let.  III. 


ship,  wliich  I  hope  to  cultivato  to  the  utmost, 
and  to  approve  myself  sincerely  and  affection- 
ately yours. 


LETTER  in. 

August  11, 1775. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Next  weck  I  go  to 
London,  where  I  purpose,  if  nothing  un- 
foreseen prevents,  to  stay  a  month.  Many 
things  which  must  necessarily  be  attended 
to  before  my  departure,  abridge  me  of  that 
leisure  which  I  could  wish  to  employ  in  an- 
swering your  last.  However,  I  will  spare 
you  what  I  can.  I  thank  you  for  yours. 
Your  objections  neither  displease  nor  w^eary 
me.  While  truth  is  the  object  of  your  in- 
quiry, the  more  freedom  you  use  with  me 
the  better.  Nor  do  they  surprise  me ;  for  I 
have  formerly  made  the  like  objections  my- 
self. I  have  stood  upon  your  ground,  and  I 
continue  to  hope  you  will  one  day  stand  upon 
mine.  As  I  have  told  you  more  than  once, 
I  do  not  mean  to  dictate  to  you,  or  wish  you 
to  receive  any  thing  upon  my  ipse  dixit ;  but, 
in  the  simplicity  of  friendship,  I  will  give  you 
my  thoughts  from  time  to  time  upon  the 
points  you  propose,  and  leave  the  event  to  the 
divine  blessing. 

I  am  glad  you  do  not  account  the  Socini- 
ans  master-builders.  However,  they  esteem 
themselves  so,  and  are  so  esteemed,  not  only 
by  a  few,  as  you  think,  but  by  many.  I  fear 
Socinianism  spreads  rapidly  amongst  us,  and 
bids  fair  to  be  the  prevailing  scheme  in  this 
land,  especially  with  those  who  profess  to  be 
the  thinking  part.  The  term  Arminian,  as 
at  present  applied,  is  very  indiscriminate,  and 
takes  in  a  great  variety  of  persons  and  senti- 
ments, amongst  whom,  I  believe,  there  are 
many  who  hold  the  fundamental  truths  of  the 
gospel,  and  live  a  life  of  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God.  I  am  far  from  supposing  that  God  will 
guide  every  sincere  person  exactly  to  adopt 
all  my  sentiments.  But  there  are  some  sen- 
timents which  I  believe  essential  to  the  very 
state  and  character  of  a  true  christian.  And 
these  make  him  a  christian,  not  merely  by 
being  his  acknowledged  sentiments,  but  by  a 
certain  peculiar  manner  in  which  he  pos- 
sesses them.  There  is  a  certain  important 
change  takes  place  in  the  heart,  by  the  ope- 
ration of  the  Spirit  of  God,  before  the  sound- 
est and  most  orthodox  sentiments  can  have 
their  proper  influence  upon  us.  This  work, 
or  change,  the  scriptures  describe  by  various 
names,  each  of  which  is  designed  to  teach  us 
the  marvellous  effects  it  produces,  and  the 
almighty  power  by  which  it  is  produced.  It 
IS  sometimes  called  a  new  birth,  John  iii.  3; 
sometimes  a  new  creature,  or  a  new  creation, 
as  2  Cor.  v.  17;  sometimes  tht  causing  light 
to  shine  out  of  darkness,  2  Cor.  iv.  6 ;  some- 


times the  opening  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  Act^ 
xxvi.  18 ;  sometimes  the  raising  the  dead  to 
life,  Ephes.  ii.  5.  Till  a  person  has  experi- 
enced this  change,  he  will  be  at  a  loss  to  form 
a  right  conception  of  it :  but  it  means,  not 
bein^  proselyted  to  an  opinion,  but  receiving- 
a  principle  of  divine  life  and  light  in  the  soul. 
And  till  this  is  received,  the  things  of  God, 
the  truths  of  the  gospel  cannot  be  rightly  dis- 
cerned or  understood  by  the  utmost  powers  of 
fallen  man,  who,  witii  all  his  wisdom,  reason, 
and  talents,  is  still  but  what  the  apostle  calls- 
the  natural  man,  till  the  power  of  God  visits 
his  heart,  1  Cor.  ii.  14.  This  work  is  some- 
times wrought  sudderJy,  as  in  the  case  of 
Lydia,  Acts  xvi.  14;  at  other  times  very  gra- 
dually. A  person  who  before  was  a  stranger 
even  to  the  form  of  godliness,  or  at  best,  con- 
tent with  a  mere  form,  finds  new  thoughts 
arising  in  his  mind,  feels  some  concern  about 
his  sins,  some  desire  to  please  God,  some  sus- 
picions that  all  is  not  right.  He  examines  his 
views  of  religion,  hopes  the  best  of  them,  and 
yet  cannot  rest  satisfied  in  them.  To-day 
perhaps,  he  thinks  himself  fixed  ;  to-morrow 
he  will  be  all  uncertainty.  He  inquires  of 
others;  weighs,  measures,  considers,  meets- 
with  sentiments  which  he  had  not  attended  to,. 
thinks  them  plausible;  but  is  presently  shock- 
ed with  objections  or  supposed  consequences,, 
which  he  finds  himself  unable  to  remove.  As- 
he goes  on  in  his  inquiry,  his  difiiculties  in- 
crease. New  doubts  arise  in  his  mind  ;  even- 
the  scriptures  perplex  him,  and  appear  to  as- 
sert contrary  things.  He  would  sound  the 
depths  of  truth  by  the  plummet  of  his  reason;, 
but  he  finds  his  line  is  too  short.  Yet  even 
now  the  man  is  under  a  guidance,  which  will 
at  length  lead  him  right.  The  importance  of 
the  subject  takes  up  his  thoughts,  and  takes-, 
ofi'the  relish  he  once  had  for  the  things  of 
the  world.  He  reads,  he  prays,  he  strives,  he- 
resolves ;  sometimes  inward  embarrassments 
and  outward  temptations  bring  him  to  his 
wits  end.  He  almost  wishes  to  stand  where 
he  is,  and  inquire  no  more ;  but  he  cannot 
stop.  At  length  he  begins  to  feel  the  inward 
depravity,  which  he  had  before  owned  as  an 
opinion  ;  a  sense  of  sin  and  guilt  cuts  him  out 
new  work.  Here  reasoning  will  stand  him  m 
no  stead.  This  is  a  painful  change  of  mind; 
but  it  prepares  the  way  for  a  blessing.  It. 
silences  some  objections  better  than  a  thou- 
sand arguments,  it  cuts  the  comb  of  his  own 
wisdom  and  attainments;  it  makes  him  weary 
of  working  for  life,  and  teaches  him,  in  God's 
due  time  the  meaning  of  that  text,  "To  him 
that  worketh  not,  but  believeth  in  him  who- 
justifieth  the  ungodly,  his  faith  is  counted  for 
righteousness."  Then  he  learns  that  scrip- 
tural faith  is  a  very  different  thing  from  a. 
rational  assent  to  the  gospel, — that  it  is  the 
immediate  gift  of  God  ;  (Ephes.  ii.  8 ;)  the- 
operation  of  God ;  (Col.  ii.  12 ;)  that  Christ 
is  not  only  the  object,  but  the  author  and' 


LKT.  III.] 


U-rrTEIlS  TO  TIIK  REV.  MIt  h'- 


IM^ 


finisher  of  faith  (Hob.  xii.  *2;)  an<l  that  faith 
is  not  so  pro|M»rly  a  part  of  that  oboilionco 
we  owe  U)  (JikI,  as  an  inrstiinnbh?  benefit  we 
receive  from  hiiu,  for  Christ's  sake,  (I'hil.  i. 
29,)  which  is  th(?  niediuia  of  our  justificatiiMi, 
(Rom.  V.  1,)  ami  the  i)rinciph?  by  which  we 
are  iinitinl  to  Christ,  as  the  branch  to  the 
vine  (Jolin  xvii.  "Jl.)  I  am  well  aware  of  the 
pains  UiUen  to  put  a  ditlerent  sense  upon 
these  and  other  soeininirly  mysterious  |)ass'i- 
ges  of  scripture;  but  thus  fir  we  speak  tliat 
which  we  know,  and  testify  that  which  we 
have  seen.  I  hive  described  a  path  in  which 
I  have  known  many  led,  oiid  in  which  I  have 
walked  myself 

Tiie  jTospel,  my  dear  Sir,  is  a  salvation  ap- 
pointed for  those  who  are  ready  to  perish, 
and  is  not  desig^ned  to  put  them  in  a  way  to 
save  themselves  by  their  own  works.  It 
speaks  to  us  as  condemned  already,  and  calls 
upon  us  to  believe  in  a  cruciried  Saviour, 
that  we  may  receive  redemption  through  his 
bl(X)d,  even  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins.  And 
the  Spirit  of  God,  by  the  gospel,  tirst  con- 
vinces us  of  unbelief,  sin,  and  misery  ;  and 
then,  by  revealing  the  things  of  Jesus  to  our 
minds,  enables  us,  as  helpless  sinners,  to 
come  to  Christ,  to  receive  him,  to  behold  him, 
or  in  other  words,  to  believe  in  him,  and  ex- 
pect pardon,  lite,  and  grace  from  him;  re- 
nouncing every  hope  and  aim  in  which  we 
once  rested,  and  accounting  ail  things  loss 
and  dung  for  the  excellency  of  the  know- 
ledge of  Christ,  John  vi.  35 ;  Is,  xlv.  22,  with 
John  vi.  40 ;  Col.  ii.  6.  In  some  of  Omicron's 
letters  you  will  find  my  thoughts  more  at 
large  upon  these  subjects  than  I  have  now 
time  to  write  them.  For  a  farther  illustra- 
tion, I  refer  you  to  the  MSS.  sent  herewith. 
The  first  part,  written  in  short  hand,  does 
not  so  immediately  concern  our  present  point 
as  the  second,  which  you  may  read  without 
a  key.  It  relates  to  a  matter  of  indisputable 
fact,  concerning  a  person  with  whom,  as  you 
will  perceive,  I  was  well  acquainted.  You 
may  depend  upon  the  truth  of  every  tittle. 
I  entrust  it  to  you  in  the  confidence  of  friend- 
ship, and  beg  that  it  may  not  go  out  of  your 
hands,  and  that,  when  you  have  perused  it, 
you  will  return  it,  sealed  up,  by  a  safe  con- 
veyance, to  my  house.  You  will  see  in  it 
the  sentiments  of  a  man  of  great  learning,  I 
sound  reasoning,  an  amiable  and  irreproacha- 
ble character,  and  how  little  he  accounted 
of  all  these  advantages,  when  the  Lord  was 
pleased  to  enlighten  his  mind. 

Though  we  have  not  exactly  the  same 
views  of  human  depravity,  yet  as  we  both 
agree  to  take  our  measure  of  it  from  the 
word  of  God,  I  trust  we  shall  not  always  dif- 
fer about  it.  Adam  was  created  in  the  image 
of  God,  in  righteousness  and  true  holiness, 
Ephes.  iv.  24.  This  moral  image,  I  believe, 
was  totally  lost  by  sin.  In  that  sense  he 
died  the  day,  the  moment,  he  ate  the  for- 
21 


bidden  fruit.  God  wa«  no  longer  Win  joy  and" 
delight;  he  was  averse  from  th(?  thoughlM  of 
his  presence,  and  would,  if  jXHsible,  have  hiil 
hims(df  from  him.  lliH  natural  jK)werH, 
though  doubtless  impaired,  were  not  de- 
stroyed. Man,  by  nature,  is  still  capable  of 
great  things.  Mis  understanding,  reason, 
memory,  imagination,  *S:c.  su(lici<.'nlly  pro- 
claim that  the  hand  that  marie  him  Ls  divine. 
IIt»  is,  as  Milton  siys  of  Beelzebub,  m;»j«;stic, 
though  in  ruins,  lie  can  rea.son,  invent,  and, 
by  application,  attain  a  considerable  know- 
ledge in  natural  things.  The  exertions  of 
human  genius,  as  specified  in  the  characters 
of  some  philosophers,  p<jets,  orators,  &-c.  are 
wondertul.  But  man  cannot  know,  love,  trust, 
or  serve  his  Maker,  unless  he  be  renewed  in 
the  spirit  of  his  mind.  God  has  preserved 
in  him  likewise  some  feelings  of  benevolence, 
pity,  some  sense  of  natural  justice  and  truth, 
&c.  without  which  there  could  be  no  society : 
but  these,  I  apprehend,  are  little  more  than 
instincts,  by  which  the  world  is  kept  in 
some  small  degree  of  order ;  but,  being  under 
the  direction  of  pride  and  self,  do  not  deserve 
the  name  of  virtue  and  goodness ;  because 
the  exercise  of  them  does  not  spring  from  a 
principle  of  love  to  God,  nor  is  directed  to  his 
glory,  or  regulated  by  the  rule  of  his  word, 
till  a  principle  of  grace  is  superadded.  You 
think  I  will  not  say,  "  that  God  judicially,  in 
punishment  of  one  man's  sin,  added  these 
corruptions  to  all  his  posterity."  Let  us 
suppose,  that  the  punishment  annexed  to  eat- 
ing the  forbidden  fruit  had  been  the  loss  of 
Adam's  rational  powers,  and  that  he  should 
be  degraded  to  the  state  and  capacity  of  a 
brute.  In  this  condition,  had  he  begotten 
children,  after  the  fall,  in  his  own  likeness, 
his  nature  being  previously  changed,  they 
must  have  been  of  course  brutes  like  himself; 
for  he  cculd  not  convey  to  tiiem.  those  origi- 
nal powers  which  he  had  lost.  Will  this  il- 
lustrate my  meaning  ?  Sin  did  not  deprive 
him  of  rationality,  but  of  spirituality.  His 
nature  became  earthly,  sensual,  yea  devilish; 
and  this  fallen  nature,  this  carnal  mind, 
which  is  enmity  against  God,  which  is  not 
subject  to  his  law,  neither  indeed  can  be 
(Rom.  viii.  7,)  we  universally  derive  from 
him.  Look  upon  children :  they  presently 
show  themselves  averse  from  good,  but  e.x- 
ceedingly  prepense  to  evil.  This  they  can 
learn  even  without  a  master ;  but  ten  thou- 
sand instructors  and  instructions  cannot  in- 
stil good  into  them,  so  as  to  teach  them  to 
love  their  Creator,  unless  a  divine  power  co- 
operates. Just  as  it  is  with  the  earth,  which 
produces  weeds  spontaneously ;  but  if  you 
see  a  cabbage,  or  an  apple-tree,  you  are  sure 
it  was  planted  or  sown  there,  and  did  net 
spring  from  the  soil.  I  know  many  hard 
questions  may  be  started  upon  this  subject ; 
but  the  I^rd,  in  due  time,  will  clear  his  own 
cause,  and  vindicate  his  own  ways.     I  leave 


250 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


f  LET.  I] 


all  difficulties  with  him.  It  is  sufficient  for 
me  that  scripture  asserts,  and  experience 
proves,  that  it  is  thus  in  fact,  Rom.  iii.  9 — 51 ; 
Job  xiv.  4.  Thus  we  have  not  only  forfeited 
«ur  happiness  by  transgression,  but  are,  by 
our  depravity,  incapable  of  it,  and  have  no 
more  desire  or  taste  for  such  a  state  as  the 
scriptures  describe  heaven  to  be,  than  a  man 
born  deaf  can  have  for  a  concert  of  music. 
And  therefore  our  Ix)rd  declares,  that  except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  not  only  shall  not, 
but  cannot,  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  Hence 
a  twofold  necessity  of  a  Saviour — his  blood 
for  the  pardon  of  sins,  and  his  life,  spirit, 
and  grace,  to  quicken  our  souls,  and  form  us 
anew  for  himself,  that  we  may  feel  his  love, 
and  show  forth  his  praise. 

St,  Paul,  before  his  conversion,  was  not 
sincere,  in  the  sense  I  hope  you  to  be.  He 
thought  himself  in  the  right,  without  doubt, 
as  many  have  done  when  they  killed  God's 
servants,  John  xvi.  2.  He  was  blindly  and 
obstinately  zealous.  I  think  he  did  not  enter 
into  the  merits  of  the  cause,  or  inquire  into 
facts  with  that  attention  which  sincerity 
would  have  put  him  upon.  You  think  that 
his  sincerity  and  zeal  were  the  very  things 
that  made  him  a  chosen  instrument;  he  him- 
self speaks  of  them  as  the  very  things  that 
made  him  peculiarly  unworthy  of  that  honour, 
(1  Cor.  XV.  9 ;)  and  he  tells  us,  that  he  was 
set  forth  as  a  pattern  of  the  Lord's  long-suf- 
ferings and  mercy,  that  the  very  chief  of 
sinners  might  be  encouraged,  1  Tim.  i.  15, 
16.  Had  he  been  sincerely  desirous  to  know 
whether  Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  there  was 
enough  in  his  character,  doctrines,  miracles, 
and  the  prophecies  concerning  him,  to  have 
cleared  up  the  point;  but  he  took  it  for 
granted  he  was  right  in  his  opinion,  and 
hurried  blindly  on,  and  was,  as  he  said  hun- 
self,  exceedingly  mad  against  them.  Such 
a  kind  of  sincerity  is  common  enough.  Peo- 
ple believe  themselves  right,  and  therefore 
treat  others  with  scorn  or  rage,  appeal  to  the 
scriptures,  but  first  lay  down  their  own  pre- 
conceived sentmients  for  truths,  and  then 
examine  what  scriptures  they  can  find  to 
countenance  them.  Surely  a  person's  think- 
ing himself  right,  will  not  give  a  sanction  to 
all  that  he  does  under  that  persuasion. 

Ignorance  and  obstinacy  are  in  themselves 
sinful,  and  no  plea  of  sincerity  will  exempt 
from  the  danger  of  being  under  their  influ- 
ence, Is.  xxvii.  11,  Luke  vi.  39.  It  appears 
to  me,  tliat,  though  you  will  not  follow  any 
man  implicitly,  you  are  desirous  of  discover- 
ing your  mistakes,  supposing  you  are  mis- 
taken in  any  point  of  importance.  You  read 
and  examine  the  word  of  God,  not  to  find 
arms  wherein  to  defend  your  sentiments  at 
all  events,  but  to  know  whether  they  are  de- 
fensible or  not.  You  pray  for  God's  light 
and  teaching,  and  in  this  search  you  are  wil- 
ling to  risk  what  men  are  commonly  much 


I  afraid  of  hazarding — character, interest  p 
ferment,  favour,  &:c.  A  sincerity  of  t 
kind  I  too  seldom  meet  with :  when  I 
I  account  it  a  token  for  good,  and  am  rea 
to  say,  "  No  man  can  do  this,  except  God 
with  him."  However,  sincerity  is  not  C( 
version ;  but  I  believe  it  is  always  a  fo 
runner  of  it. 

I  would  not  be  uncharitable  and  cense 
ous,  hasty  and  peremptory  in  judging  i 
fellow-creatures.  But  if  I  acknowledge  t 
word  of  God,  I  cannot  avoid  forming  i 
judgment  upon  it.  It  is  true,  I  cannot  Ic 
into  people's  hearts ;  but  hearts  and  prin 
pies  are  delineated  to  my  hand  in  the  scr 
tures.  I  read,  that  no  murderer  has  eten 
life  in  him:  I  read  likewise,  "if  any  m 
love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him 
anathema;"  and  therefore  I  conclude,  tl 
there  are  speculative  errors,  as  heinous 
their  guilt,  as  destructive  in  their  effects, 
murder  ;  and  that  the  most  moral,  regui 
man,  as  to  social  life,  if  he  loves  not  t 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  in  the  sight  of  God,  t 
judge  of  all,  as  displeasing  as  a  murderi 
It  has  pleased  God  for  the  peace  and  supp< 
of  society,  to  put  a  black  mark  upon  the 
sins  which  affect  the  peace  and  welfare 
our  neighbour,  such  as  adultery  and  murdi 
But  undoubtedly  the  sins  committed  imn 
diately  against  himself  must  be  more  heinc 
than  any  which  offend  our  fellow-creatun 
The  second  commandment  (Matt.  xxii.  3! 
is  like  the  first ;  but  it  depends  upon  it,  a 
is  therefore  inferior  to  it.  Men  ordinar 
judge  otherwise.  To  live  regardless  of  G 
and  the  gospel  is  looked  upon  as  a  me 
pecadillo  in  comparison  with  offences  agaii 
society.  But  sooner  or  later  it  will  appe 
otherwise  to  all.  A  parcel  of  robbers  m 
pique  themselves  upon  the  justice,  honoi 
and  truth  they  observe  towards  one  anothe 
but,  because  they  set  up  a  petty  intere 
which  is  inconsistent  with  the  public  gcK 
they  are  deservedly  accounted  villains,  a 
treated  as  such,  notwithstanding  their  pet 
morality  among  themselves.  Now  such 
company  of  robbers  bears  a  much  great 
proportion  to  a  whole  nation,  than  a  natic 
or  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  bears  to  t 
great  God.  Our  dependence  upon  him  is  a 
solute,  our  obligations  to  him  infinite, 
vain  shall  men  plead  their  moral  dischar; 
of  relative  duties  to  each  other,  if  they  fi 
in  the  unspeakably  greater  relation  und 
which  they  stand  to  God ;  and  therefoi 
when  I  see  people  living  without  God  in  tl 
world,  as  all  do  till  they  are  converted, 
cannot  bnt  judge  them  in  a  dangerous  stati 
— not  because  I  take  pleasure  in  censurin 
or  think  myself  authorised  to  pass  sentem 
upon  my  fellow  caeatures,  but  because  tl 
scriptures  decide  expressly  on  the  case,  ai 
I  am  bound  to  take  my  sentiments  fro 
thence. 


LET.   V. 


S 


LETTiIRS  TO  TIIi:  REV.  MR.  S- 


251 


Tho  jailor  was  certainly  a  christian  wIhmi 
baptized,  a.s  you  ohtiorvo.  lit?  trt'inbled  ;  lip 
criod  out,  "Wh:it  must  I  do  to  b«'  8tiv»*d  !" 
Paul  (lid  not  bid  liiin  unirud  his  lift*,  hut  be- 
lieve in  the  liOrd  Jesus.  IIj*  believ«'d  and  re- 
joiced. But  the  l»rd  blessed  the  upxistle's 
words,  to  j)nMluce  in  him  thiit  saving  tUith 
which  tilleil  him  with  joy  and  peace.  It  wa.s, 
as  I  observed  before,  somelhinj''  more  thiin  an 
assent  to  tho  proposition,  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ;  a  resting  in  him  for  for;,'^iveness  and 
acceptiince,  and  a  cleavin<j  to  him  in  love. 
No  other  faith  will  purify  tho  heart,  work  by 
love,  and  overcome  the  world. 

I  need  not  have  pleaded  want  of  leisure  as 
an  excuse  for  a  short  letter,  for  I  have  writ- 
ten a  loni^-  one.  I  feel  myself  much  inter- 
ested m  your  concerns;  and  your  unexpected 
frank  application  to  me  (thou;,'h  you  well 
know  the  li<ifht  in  which  I  appear  to  some 
people)  I  consider  as  a  providential  call  which 
binds  me  to  your  service.  I  hope  our  corres- 
pondence will  be  productive  of  happy  effects, 
and  that  we  shall  both  one  day  rejoice  in  it. 
— I  am,  &LC. 


LETTER  IV. 

September  6,  1775. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  beg-in  to  fear  I  shall 
fall  under  a  suspicion  of  unkindness  and  for- 
gettulness  towards  you,  and  tliercfore  I  am 
willing  to  write  a  lino  by  way  of  prevention, 
though  I  have  not  leisure  to  attempt  any 
thing-  like  an  answer  to  the  letter  you  put 

into  my  hand  the  evening  before  I  left  O ; 

I  must  therefore  content  myself  with  a  ten- 
der of  affection  and  respect,  and  an  inquiry 
after  your  welfare. 

Your  letter  will  give  me  an  opportunity  of 
saying  something  farther  when  time  shall  ad- 
mit ;  but  an  endeavour  to  answer  all  the  ob- 
jections that  may  be  started  between  us,  in  a 
way  of  reasoning,  would  require  a  volume, 
and  would  likewise  interfere  with  the  leading 
principle  upon  which  ray  hope  of  giving  you 
satisfaction  in  due  time  is  grounded.  You 
seem  to  expect  that  I  should  remove  your 
difficulties ;  but  it  is  my  part  only  to  tl;row 
in  a  word  occasionally,  as  a  witness  of  what 
the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  teach  me  from 
the  scriptures,  and  to  wait  for  the  rest  till  he 
(who  alone  is  able)  shall  be  pleased  to  com- 
municate the  same  views  to  you  :  for,  till  we 
see  and  judge  by  the  same  medium,  and  are 
agreed  in  the  fundamental  point,  that  faith 
is  not  the  effect  of  reasoning,  but  a  special 
gift  of  God,  w^hich  he  bestows  when  and  to 
whom  he  pleases,  it  will  not  be  possible  for 
me  to  convince  you  by  dint  of  argument.  I 
believe,  as  I  have  observed  before,  that  he 
has  already  given  you  a  desire  to  know  his 
will,  and  therefore  I  trust  he  will  not  disap- 


|K)inl  your  search.  At  prchcnl  I  think  yoa 
want  one  thing,  which  it  iu  not  in  my  |x)wur 
to  impart,  I  ujean,  kucIi  u  .senHr-  of  lhi«  de- 
pravity of  human  nature,  and  the  Htjite  of 
all  mankind  eoiisidcri'd  as  sinnern,  us  muy 
make  y(}u  feel  the  utter  iin|K)Hsil)ility  of  at- 
taining to  the  peace  and  hoi)e  of  the  goHjxd 
in  any  other  way,  than  by  renouncing  ull 
hope  of  succeeding  by  any  <'nd<'avourH  of 
your  own,  farther  than  by  humbly  waiting 
at  tht?  throne  of  gr«ice,  for  power  to  ca»t 
yourself,  without  terms  and  conditions,  upon 
him  who  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost. 
We  must  feel  ourselves  sick,  before  we  can 
duly  prize  the  great  Pli^sician,  and  feel  a 
sentence  of  death  in  ourselves  before  we 
can  effectually  trust  in  God,  who  raiseth  the 
dead. 

I  have  not  brought  your  sermons  with  me, 
for  I  thought  I  should  not  have  time  to  read 
them  attentively  while  in  this  hurrying 
place.  I  purpose  to  consider  them  with 
care,  and  to  give  you  my  thoughts  with 
frankness,  when  I  return.  However,  if  they 
are  upon  the  plan  intimated  in  your  letter,  I 
will  venture  to  say  one  thing  beforehand, 
that  they  will  not  answer  your  desired  end. 
I  am  persuaded  you  wish  to  be  useful — to 
reclaim  sinners  from  their  evil  w^ays — to 
inspire  them  with  a  love  to  God,  and  a  sin- 
cere aim  to  walk  in  obedience  to  his  will. 
May  I  not  venture  to  appeal  to  yourself, 
that  you  meet  with  little  success, — that  the 
people  to  whom  you  preach,  though  they 
perhaps  give  you  a  patient  hearing,  yet  re- 
main as  they  were,  unchanged,  and  unholy  \ 
It  must  be  so :  there  is  but  one  sort  of  preach- 
ing which  God  blesses  to  these  purposes,  that 
which  makes  all  the  world  guilty  before  God, 
and  sets  forth  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  brazen 
serpent  was  proposed  by  Moses,  that  guilty 
and  condemned  sinners,  by  looking  to  him, 
and  believing  on  his  name,  may  be  healed 
and  saved.  The  most  pressing  exhortations 
to  repentance  and  amendment  of  life,  un- 
less they  are  enforced  in  a  certain  way, 
which  only  God  can  teach,  will  leave  our 
hearers  much  as  they  find  them.  When  we 
meet,  or  when  I  have  leisure  lo  write  from 
home,  I  will  trouble  you  with  my  thoughts 
more  at  large.  Till  then,  permit  me  to  as- 
sure you  of  my  sincere  regard  and  best 
wishes,  and  that — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

October  21,  1775 
MY  DE\R  FRIEND, — The  calls  and  engage- 
ments which  I  told  you  engrossed  and  anti* 
cipated  my  time  when  I  wrote  last,  have 
continued  without  any  intermission  hitherto, 
and  I  am  still  far  behind-hand  with  my  busi- 
ness.    I  am  walling  to  hope,  that  the  case 


252 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  IMR.  S- 


has  been  much  the  same  with  you,  and  that 
want  of  leisure  has  been  the  only  cause  of  my 
not  having  been  pleasured  with  so  much  as 
a  note  from  you  since  my  return  from  Lon- 
don, 

I  am  loath,  for  my  own  sake,  to  charge 
your  silence  to  any  unwillinnfness  of  continu- 
iniT  that  mtercourse  which  I  have  been,  and 
still  find  myself,  desirous  to  improve  on  my 
part.  For  though  we  are  not  agreed  in 
our  views,  yet  while  our  preliminary  agree- 
ment, to  allow  mutual  freedom,  and  to  exer- 
cise mutual  candour,  in  expressing  our  senti- 
ments, subsists,  we  may,  and  I  hope  shall,  be 
glad  to  hear  from  t?ach  other.  It  may  seem 
to  intimate  I  have  a  better  opinion  of  myself 
than  of  you,  that  while  I  seem  confident  your 
freedom  will  not  offend  me,  I  feel  now  and 
then  a  fear,  lest  mine  should  prove  displeas- 
ing to  you.  But  friendship  is  a  little  suspi- 
cious when  exercised  with  long  silence,  and  a 
plain  declaration  of  my  sentiments  has  more 
than  once  put  amiable  and  respectable  per- 
sons to  the  full  trial  of  their  patience. 

I  now  return  your  sermons ;  I  thank  you 
for  the  perusal ;  I  see  much  in  them  that  I 
approve,  and  nothing  in  them  but  what  I  for- 
merly espoused.  Bat  in  a  course  of  years,  a 
considerable  alteration  has  taken  place  in 
my  judgment  and  experience,  I  hope,  yea,  1 
may  boldly  say,  I  am  sure,  not  for  the  worse. 
Then  I  was  seeking,  and  now,  through  mer- 
cy, I  have  found  the  pearl  of  great  price.  It 
is  both  the  prayer  and  the  hope  of  my  heart, 
that  a  day  is  coming  when  you  shall  make 
the  same  acknowledgment.  From  your  let- 
ters and  sermons,  I  am  encouraged  to  ad- 
dress you  in  our  Lord's  words,  "  Thou  art 
not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God."  I  am 
persuaded  the  views  you  have  received  will 
not  suffer  you  to  remain  where  you  are. 
But  fidelity  obliges  me  to  add,  "  Yet  one 
thing  thou  lackest."  That  one  thing  I  trust 
the  Lord  will  both  show  you,  and  bestow 
upon  3'^ou,  in  his  due  time.  You  speak  some- 
where of  "  atoning  for  disobedience  by  re- 
pentance." Ah  !  my  dear  Sir,  when  we  are 
brought  to  estimate  our  disobedience,  by 
comparint^  it  with  such  a  sense  of  the  ma- 
jesty, holiness,  and  authority  of  God,  and 
the  spirituality,  extent,  and  sanction  of  his 
holy  law,  as  he,  and  he  only,  can  impress 
upon  the  heart  of  a  sinner,  we  shall  be  con- 
vinced, that  nothing  but  the  blood  of  the  Son 
of  God  can  atone  for  the  smallest  instance  of 
disobedience. 

I  intimated,  in  my  letter  from  T^ondon,  one 
defect  of  your  scheme,  which  will  probably  be 
the  first  to  engage  your  notice.  I  am  sure 
you  have  a  desire  to  be  useful  to  the  souls  of 
men,  to  be  an  instrument  of  reclaiming  them 
from  that  course  of  open  wickedness,  or  life- 
less formality,  in  which  you  see  them  en- 
slaved ;  and  in  a  word,  to  prevail  with  them 
to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  accord- 


[leT.  VL 


ing  to  the  just  and  comprehensive  sense  yo« 
have  given  of  those  words,  in  your  sermon  on 
Tit.  ii.  11,  12.  Now,  inward  experience, 
and  a  pretty  extensive  observation  of  what 
passes  abroad,  iiave  so  perfectly  convinced  me 
there  is  but  one  mode  of  preaching  which  the 
I  loly  Spirit  owns  to  the  producing  of  these  ef- 
fects, that  I  am  not  afraid  to  pronounce  con- 
fidently, you  will  not  have  the  desires  of  your 
heart  gratified  upon  your  present  plan.  The 
people  will  give  you  a  hearing,  and  remain 
just  as  they  are,  till  the  Lord  leads  you  to 
speak  to  them  as  criminals  condemned  already, 
and  whose  first  essential  step  it  is,  to  seek 
forgiveness  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  a 
change  of  heart  and  state  by  his  grace,  before 
they  can  bring  forth  any  fruit  acceptable  Ux 
God. 

As  I  have  little  time  for  writing,  and  little 
hope  of  succeeding  in  a  way  of  argumenta- 
tion, I  have  substituted,  instead  of  a  longer 
letter,  the  heads  of  some  sermons  I  preached 
nine  or  ten  years  ago,  on  our  Lord's  discourse 
with  Nicodemus.  However,  when  I  have 
heard  that  you  are  well,  and  that  you  are 
still  disposed  to  correspond  with  me,  I  shall 
be  ready  to  give  a  more  particular  answer 
to  the  subjects  you  pointed  out  to  me  in  the 
letter  you  favoured  me  with  the  day  before 
I  left  London.  I  pray  God  to  bless  you  in 
all  your  ways,  and  beg  you  to  believe,  that  I 
am,  with  sincerity,  «&:c. 


LETTER  VI. 

October  28. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — It  never  entered  my 
pericranium,  that  you  expected  I  should  fully 
and  directly  answer  your  letter  while  I  was 
in  London ;  and  yet  you  reasonably  mighty 
as  you  knew  nothing  of  my  engagements : 
but,  indeed,  it  was  impracticable ;  I  could 
only  send  you  a  hasty  line,  as  a  token  that  t 
remembered  you.  I  informed  you,  when  I 
returned,  that  I  was  just  going  out  again. 
Since  I  came  home  the  second  time,  I  have 
been  engrossed  by  things  that  would  admit 
of  no  delay  ;  and,  at  length,  not  having  so 
much  as  a  note  from  you,  I  thought  I  would 
wait  till  I  heard  farther.  But,  from  first  to 
last  it  was  my  intention,  and  I  think,  my 
promise,  to  answer  in  the  manner  you  pro- 
posed as  soon  as  I  could.  And  even  now  I 
must  beg  a  little  longer  time.  Believe  me, 
that  as  the  wise  and  good  providence  of  God 
brought  us  together,  without  any  expecta- 
tion of  mine,  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to 
preserve  the  connexion,  and  particularly  by 
giving  my  thoughts  on  such  questions  as  you 
propose.  And  though  to  consider  your 
questions  in  the  manner  you  wish,  and  to 
point  out  the  agreement  of  detached  texts 
(as  they  occur)  with  my  views,  seems,  iE 


LKT.  VII.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S 


968 


pnic'poct,  to  roquiro  a  volume  rather  than  a 
elieet,  yet  I  am  not  (li.'<coura<reil ;  only  1  bep 
you  to  make  allowance  tor  otiier  thini^'s,  and 
to  be  aiwured,  th:il  belore  I  h-ul  the  pleasure 
of  correspond inij  with  you,  I  had  very  little 
spare  time.  Exp<'ct  tlu'n  the  best  satisfaction 
I  am  able  to  jjive  you,  as  soon  as  fK>ssible,    To 

firepare  the  way,  I  will  try  hard  for  a  little 
eisure,  to  <j^ive  you  a  tew  tiioughtd  u|X)n  yours, 
which  came  last  niirht. 

Vou  complain  that  I  have  hitherto  disap- 
pointed your  expectations.  If  you  have  pre- 
served my  first  papers,  I  believe  you  will 
find,  that  I  aj)prised  you  this  nii^ht  probably 
be  the  event,  and  certainly  must,  unless  it 
should  please  God  to  make  what  I  should 
write  a  means  of  arivinn^  you  the  same  views 
with  myself.  I  only  proposed,  as  a  witness, 
to  bear  a  simple  testimony  to  what  I  have 
seen  and  known.  So  far  as  you  believe  me 
sincere  and  unwilling  to  impose  upon  you,  I 
thought  you  might  admit,  there  was  perhaps 
some  weight  in  what  I  advanced,  though  for 
the  present,  you  could  not  see  things  in  the 
same  light.  And  if  you  allowed  a  possibility, 
that  my  changing  the  sentiments  which  I 
once  held  in  common  with  yourself,  might 
be  upon  sufficient  grounds,  you  would,  as  I 
trust  you  do,  wait  upon  the  great  Teacher 
for  his  instruction ;  otherwise  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  convince  you,  nor  do  I  yet,  only  I  am 
glad  to  put  myself  in  his  hands  as  an  instru- 
ment. 

You  quite  misunderstood  what  I  spoke  of 
the  light  and  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 
He  reveals  to  me  no  new  truths,  but  has 
only  shown  me  the  meaning  of  his  own  writ- 
ten word ;  nor  is  this  light  a  particular  reve- 
lation, it  is  common  to  all  who  are  born 
asrain.  And  thus,  though  you  and  I  cannot 
fully  agree  about  it,  yet  I  almost  daily  meet 
with  persons  from  the  east,  west,  north,  and 
south,  whom,  though  I  never  saw  them  be- 
fore, I  find  we  understand  each  other  at 
once.  This  (as  you  bid  me  be  explicit)  is 
the  one  thing  which  I  think  you  at  present 
lack.  And  I  limited  my  expression,  to  one 
thing,  because  it  is  our  Lord's  expression, 
and  because  that  one  thing  includes  many. 
As  I  said  before,  I  cannot  give  it  you ;  but 
the  Lord  can:  and  from  the  desire  he  has 
raised  in  your  heart,  I  have  a  warm  hope 
that  he  will.  You  place  the  whole  stress  of 
your  inquiries  upon  reason :  I  am  far  from 
discarding  reason,  when  it  is  enlightened 
and  sanctified ;  but  spiritual  things  must  be 
spiritually  discerned,  and  can  be  received 
and  discerned  no  other  way ;  for  to  our  natu- 
ral reason  they  are  foolishness,  1  Cor.  ii.  14, 
15 ;  Matth.  xi.  25.  This  certain  some- 
thing I  can  no  more  describe  to  those  who 
have  not  experienced  it,  than  I  could  de- 
scribe the  taste  of  a  pine-apple  to  a  person 
who  had  never  seen  one.  But  scriptural 
j)roofs  might  be  adduced  in  abundance,  yet 


not  8o  ofl  to  pive  a  solid  conviction  of  it,  till 
we  actually  exp«vience  it.  Thun  it  wax  with 
my  friend,  whose  caae  I  Henl  you.  When 
G(Mi  gave  him  the  key,  aa  he  rxpress^Mi  it, 
then  the  wriptures  were  unlocked.  IIu» 
wishing  him.sclf  a  deist  some  tinu;  before, 
wixn  not  from  any  libertine  exceptions  he 
made  to  the  precept.s  of  the  gosjjel,  but  from 
the  perplexing  embarra.ssments  he  had  found, 
by  endeavouring  to  understand  the  dcx^trinea 
by  dint  of  rea.son,  though  reason  in  him  was 
as  strong  and  penetrating  as  in  most  men 
I  ever  met  with.  Upon  your  present  plan, 
how  can  I  hope  to  satisfy  you,  though  even 
St.  Paul  asserts  it,  that  the  carnal  mind  is 
enmity  against  God?  You  will  readily 
agree  with  me  to  the  proposition  as  it  stands 
in  St.  Paul's  words;  but  I  think  you  will  not 
so  readily  assent  to  what  I  have  no  more 
doubt  than  of  my  own  existence,  is  the  sense 
of  it.  That  the  heart  of  man,  of  any  man, 
every  man,  however  apparently  amiable  in 
his  outward  conduct,  however  benevolent 
to  his  fellow-creatures,  however  abundant 
and  zealous  in  his  devotions,  is  by  nature 
enmity  against  God;  not  indeed  against  the 
idea  he  himself  forms  of  God,  but  against  the 
character  which  God  has  revealed  of  himself 
in  the  scriptures.  Man  is  an  enemy  to  the 
justice,  sovereignty,  and  law  of  God,  and  to 
the  alone  method  of  salvation  he  has  ap- 
pointed in  the  gospel  by  faith  only :  by  such 
a  faith,  as  it  is  no  more  in  his  power  to  con- 
tribute to  the  production  of  in  himself,  than 
he  can  contribute  to  raising  the  dead,  or 
making  a  world.  Whatever  is  of  the  flesh  is 
flesh,  and  can  rise  no  higher  than  its  princi- 
ple ;  but  the  Lord  could  convince  you  of  this 
by  a  glance  of  thought. 

But  I  must  break  oflT,  for  want  both  of  room 
and  time.  Let  me  remind  you  of  our  agree- 
ment, to  use  and  to  allow  the  greatest  free- 
dom, and  not  to  be  offended  with  what  is 
meant  well  on  either  side.  Something  in 
your  last  letter  made  me  apprehensive  you 
were  a  little  displeased  with  me.  He  that 
knows  my  heart,  knows  that  I  wish  you  well 
as  my  own  soul. 

The  expression,  of  atoning  for  disobedi- 
ence by  repentance,  was  in  one  of  your  ser 
mons.  I  considered  it  as  unguarded;  but  on 
my  view  of  things,  it  were  in  a  manner  im- 
possible I  could  use  that  expression,  though, 
perhaps,  too  often  unguarded  myself — I 
am,  &,c. 


LETTER  VII. 

November  17,  1775. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — At  length  I  take  up 
your  favour  of  Ausrust  14,  with  design  to 
give  it  a  more  explicit  answer.     My  delay- 
ing hitherto  has  been   unavoidable;   I  am 


254 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


sorry  to  have  your  patience  put  to  so  long  a 
trial,  and  should  be  more  sorry,  but  that  I 
consider,  that  in  my  former  papers,  sermons, 
Omicron's  letters,  &:c,  you  already  possess 
the  whole  (in  substance)  of  what  1  have  to 
offer.  My  present  part  is  but  actum  agere, 
to  repeat  what  I  have  elsewhere  expressed, 
only  with  some  variety  and  enlargement. 
You  yourself  will  state  the  situation  of  our 
debate,  when  you  say,  "  Nor  in  truth  do  you 
offer  any  arguments  to  convince  me,  nor  does 
it  seem  very  consistent  on  your  grounds  so 
to  do.  And  if  this  important  change  is  to 
be  brought  about  by  the  intervention  of  some 
extraordinary  impulse  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
cannot  be  brought  about  without  it ;  I  do  not 
see  any  thing  farther  that  I  have  to  do,  than 
to  keep  my  mind  as  much  unbiased  as  I  can, 
and  to  wait  and  pray  for  it."  I  think  my 
letter  from  London  was  to  the  purport  of 
these  your  own  words,  though  you  seemed 
dissatisfied  with  it.  While  we  see  through 
a  different  medium,  it  will  be  easy  for  you 
to  answer  every  text  I  might  adduce  in  sup- 
port of  my  sentiments,  as  you  have  those  I 
have  already  brought,  "  That  you  understand 
them  otherwise."  In  order  to  support  my 
sense  of  one  text,  I  should  perhaps  quote  and 
argue  from  twenty  more,  and  still  "  you 
would  understand  them  otherwise."  The 
life  of  man,  yea  of  Methuselah,  would  hardly 
suffice  to  prove,  object,  and  defend,  all  that 
might  be  alledged  on  both  sides  in  this  way ; 
and  at  last  we  should  leave  ofl'  as  we  began, 
more  fully  confirmed  in  our  own  opinions, 
unless  the  Lord,  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  should 
be  pleased  to  show  the  person  who  main- 
tained the  wrong  side  of  the  argument 
where  his  mistake  lay.  However,  I  mean 
to  take  some  notice  of  your  queries  as  they 
offer  themselves. 

The  first  which  occurs  is  complicated. 
The  substance  T  think  is,  Whether  such  be- 
lief and  aims  as  you  possess,  will  stand  you 
in  no  stead  unless  you  likewise  believe  grace 
irresistible,  predestination  absolute,  faith  in 
supernatural  impulses,  (Sec. ']  You  may  have 
observed,  I  have  several  times  waived  speak- 
ing about  predestination  or  election,  not  that 
I  am  ashamed  of  the  doctrine  ;  because,  if  it 
be  indeed  absurd,  shocking,  and  unjust,  the 
blame  will  not  deservedly  fall  upon  me,  for 
I  did  not  invent  it,  but  upon  the  scriptures, 
where  I  am  sure  it  is  laid  down  in  as  plain 
terms,  as  that  God  created  the  heavens  and 
the  earth.  I  own  I  cannot  but  wonder,  that 
persons  professing  any  reverence  for  the 
Bible  should  so  openly  and  strongly  declare 
their  abhorrence  of  what  the  Bible  so  ex- 
pressly teaches;  namely,  that  there  is  a  dis- 
crimination of  persons  by  the  grace  and  good 
pleasure  of  God,  where  by  nature  there  is 
no  difference ;  and  that  all  things  respecting 
the  salvation  of  these  persons  is  infallibly  se- 
cured by  a  divine  predestination. 


-.  i.LET.  vn. 

I  do  not  offer  this  as  a  rational  doctrine 
though  it  be  highly  so  to  me ;  but  it  is  scrip- 
tural, or  else  the  scriptures  are  a  mere  nose 
of  wax,  and  without  a  determinate  meaning. 
What  ingenuity  is  needful  to  interpret  many 
passages  in  a  sense  more  favourable  to  our 
natural  prejudices  against  God's  sovereignty ! 
Matt.  xi.  25,  26,  and  xiii.  10 — 17 ;  Mark  xiiL 
20.  22 ;  John  xvii.  passim ;  John  x.  26 ;  Rom. 
viii.  2S— 30,  and  ix.  13—24,  and  xi.  7 ;  Eph. 
i.  4,  5 ;  1  Pet.  i.  2.  Were  I  fond  of  dis- 
puting, as  I  am  not,  I  think  I  could  put  a 
close  reasoner  hard  to  it,  to  maintain  the 
truth  of  scripture-prophecies,  or  the  belief 
of  a  particular  providence,  unless  he  would 
admit  a  divine  predestination  of  causes  and 
events  as  the  ground  of  his  arguments.  How- 
ever, as  I  said,  I  have  chosen  to  waive  the 
point;  because,  however  true  and  necessary 
in  itself,  the  knowledge  and  comprehension 
of  it  is  not  necessary  to  the  being  of  a  true 
christian,  though  I  can  hardly  conceive  he 
can  be  an  established  consistent  believer 
without  it.  This  doctrine  is  not  the  turning 
point  between  you  and  me ;  the  nature  of 
justification,  and  the  method  of  a  sinner's  ac- 
ceptance with  God,  are  of  much  more  imme- 
diate importance ;  and  therefore,  if  I  am  to 
speak  plainly,  I  must  say,  that  I  look  upon 
your  present  sentiments,  attainments,  and 
advances,  as  you  describe  them,  to  constitute 
that  kind  of  gain  the  apostle  speaks  of,  and 
concerning  which  I  hope  you  will  one  day 
be  of  his  mind,  and  be  glad  to  account  it  all 
loss,  that  you  may  win  Christ,  and  be  found 
in  him,  "  not  having  your  own  righteousness, 
which  is  of  the  law,  but  the  righteousness 
which  is  of  God  by  faith,"  Phil.  iii.  4.  7 — 10. 
For,  as  you  tell  me,  you  never  remember  a 
time  when  you  were  not  conscious  before 
God  of  great  un  worthiness,  and  intervals  of 
earnest  endeavours  to  serve  hun,  though  not 
with  the  same  success,  yet  something  in  the 
same  way,  as  at  present ;  this  is  but  saying, 
in  other  words,  you  never  remember  a  time 
when  old  things  passed  away,  and  all  things 
became  new ;  and  yet  the  apostle  insists 
much  upon  this,  2  Cor,  iv.  6,  and  v.  17.  The 
convictions  of  natural  conscience,  and  those 
which  are  wrought  in  the  heart  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  are  different,  not  only  in  degree,  but 
in  kind ;  the  light  of  a  glow-worm  and  of  the 
sun  do  not  more  essentially  differ.  The  fonner 
are  partial  and  superficial,  leave  us  in  pos- 
session of  a  supposed  power  of  our  own,  are 
pacified  by  some  appearances  of  an  outward 
change,  and  make  us  no  farther  sensible  of 
the  necessity  of  a  Saviour,  than  to  make  our 
doings  and  duties  (if  I  may  so  express  myself) 
full  weight,  which  perhaps  might  otherwise 
be  a  little  deficient  when  brought  to  the  ba- 
lance of  the  sanctuary.  But  truly  spiritual 
convictions  give  us  far  other  views  of  sin ;  they 
lead  us  to  a  deep  and  awful  consideration  of 
the  root  of  our  total  absolute  depravity,  and 


VII.] 


LK'ITKllS  TO  TIIIO  RKV.  MR.  S- 


255 


our  utter  a{x>stacy  from  (Jul  by  which  we 
are  as  inca|Kibh'  of  tlt)in<^  jr«*<'*'«  ^'^  ^  i\vtu\ 
nmn  is  of  |K'rformini(  th»?  functions  of  lifl». 
They  lead  us  to  the  rule  and  standard,  th«' 
strict,  holy,  inflexible  law  of  (JimI,  which 
reaches  to  the  thoui,'hts  and  intents  of  the 
heart;  reiiuires  perfect,  uiuversal,  persever- 
in«i^  obodience;  denounces  a  curse  u()on 
every  failuro  ((lal.  iii.  11),)  and  affords  nei- 
ther place  nor  stren^^th  for  repentance.  Thus 
tiiey  sweep  away  every  hope  and  refuji^e  we 
had  before,  and  fix  u|K)n  us  a  sense  of  p^uilt 
and  condemnation,  from  which  there  is  no 
relief,  till  we  can  kx)k  to  Jesus,  as  the 
wounded  Israelites  did  to  the  brazen  serpent; 
which  was  not  to  g-ive  efficacy  to  medicines, 
and  plasters  q|'  their  own  application,  but  to 
heal  them  completely  of  itself  by  lookin<r  at 
it  John  iii.  14,  15,  and  vi.  40 ;  Isaiah  xliii. 
22. 

You  wish  me  to  explain  my  distinction  be- 
tween faith  and  rational  assent ;  and  thoui^h 
I  know  no  two  things  in  the  world  more 
clearly  distkict  in  themselves,  or  more  express- 
ly distino-uished  in  scripture,  yet  I  fear  I 
may  not  easily  make  it  appear  to  you.  You 
allow  taith,  in  your  sense,  to  be  the  gift  of 
God;  but  in  my  sense,  it  is  likewise  wrought 
by  the  operation  of  God,  Col.  ii.  12,  ^o  vTrifZxK- 

Xo»  fitytiti  Tiij  SvvafttiMii   kutou — xara  Ttjw    tvigytixv  tov 

xf»rou;  mi  la-jiosj  a-jrou  ;*  that  samc  energy  of 
the  power  of  his  strength,  by  which  the  dead 
body  of  Jesus  was  raised  from  the  dead.  Can 
these  strong  expressions  intend  no  more  than 
a  rational  assent,  such  as  we  give  to  a  pro- 
position in  Euclid  ?  I  believe  fallen  reason 
is,  of  itself,  utterly  incapable  even  of  assent- 
ing to  the  great  truths  of  revelation ;  it  may 
assent  to  the  terms  in  which  they  are  pro- 
posed, but  it  must  put  its  own  interpretation 
upon  them,  or  it  would  despise  them.  The 
natural  man  can  neither  receive  nor  discern 
the  things  of  God  ;  and  if  any  one  would  be 
wise,  the  apostle's  first  advice  to  him  is.  Let 
him  become  a  fool,  that  he  may  be  wise;  for 
the  wisdom  of  the  world  is  foolishness  with 
God. 

Indeed  when  the  heart  is  changed,  and  the 
mind  enlightened,  then  reason  is  sanctified, 
and  if  I  may  so  say,  baptized,  renounces  its 
curious  disquisitions,  and  is  content  humbly 
to  tread  in  the  path  of  revelation.  This  is 
one  difference ;  assent  may  be  the  act  of  our 
natural  reason ;  faith  is  the  effect  of  imme- 
diate almighty  power.  Another  difference  is, 
faith  is  always  efficacious,  "  it  worketh  by 
love ;"  whereas  assent  is  often  given  where  it 
has  little  or  no  influence  upon  the  conduct. 
Thus,  for  instance,  every  one  will  assent  to 
this  truth,  All  men  are  mortal.  Yet  the  great- 
est part  of  mankind,  though  they  readily  as- 
sent to  the  proposition,  and  it  w-ould  be  highly 
irrational  to  do  otherwise,  live  as  they  might 


*  Ephes.  i.  19. 


do  if  the  reveruc  were  true.  Hut  tlu-y  who 
have  divino  faif  h  fVrl,  as  wrll  an  wiv,  tln-y  are 
pilgrims  and  sojourners  u|)<)n  rarth.  Again, 
faith  gives  peace  of  conscience,  access  to  ( iod, 
and  a  sure  evidence  and  sidwi-stence  of  things 
not  seen  (Rom.  v.  1,  2;  lleh.  xi.  1 ;)  wherejis, 
a  calm  disiMissionate  reawjner  may  be  corn- 
jX'lled  to  assent  to  the  external  arguments  in 
favour  of  Christianity,  and  yet  remain  a  totnl 
stranger  to  that  communion  with  (Jod,  that 
spiritofadoption,  that  foretasteof  glory,  which 
is  the  {)rivilege  and  {Kjrtion  of  believers.  So 
likewise  faith  overcomes  the  world,  which  ra- 
tional assent  will  not  do.  Witness  the  lives 
and  tempers  of  thousands,  who  yet  would  be 
affronted,  if  their  assent  to  the  gospel  should 
be  questioned.  To  sum  up  all  in  a  word,  "  He 
that  believes  shall  be  saved."  But  surely 
many  who  give  a  rational  assent  to  the  gospel 
live  and  die  in  those  sins  which  exclude  from 
the  kingdom  of  God,  Gal.  v.  19 — 21.  F'aith 
is  the  effect  of  a  principle  of  new  life  im- 
planted in  the  soul,  that  was  before  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins;  and  it  qualifies  not  only 
for  obeying  the  Saviour's  precepts,  but  chiefly 
and  primarily  for  receiving  from  and  rejoicing 
in  his  fulness,  admiring  his  love,  his  work, 
his  person,  his  glory,  his  advocacy.  It  makes 
Christ  precious,  enthrones  him  in  the  heart, 
presents  him  as  the  most  delightful  object  to 
our  meditations;  as  our  wisdom,  righteous- 
ness, sanctification,  and  strength  ;  our  root, 
head,  life,  shepherd,  and  husband.  These  are 
all  scriptural  expressions  and  images,  setting 
forth,  so  far  as  words  can  declare,  what  Jesus 
is  in  himself  and  to  his  believing  people.  But 
how  cold  is  the  comment  which  rational  as- 
sent puts  upon  very  many  passages  wherein 
the  apostle  Paul  endeavours,  but  in  vain,  to 
express  the  fulness  of  his  heart  upon  this  sub- 
ject. A  most  valued  friend  of  mine,  a  cler- 
gyman, now  living,  had  for  many  years  given 
a  rational  assent  to  the  gospel.  He  laboured 
with  much  earnestness  upon  your  plan,  was 
very  exemplary  in  his  whole  conduct,  preach- 
ed almost  incessantly  (two  or  three  times 
every  day  in  the  week  for  years,)  having  a 
parish  in  the  remote  parts  of  Yorkshire,  of 
great  extent,  and  containing  five  or  six  dif- 
ferent hamlets  at  some  distance  from  each 
other.  He  succeeded  likewise  with  his  peo- 
ple, so  far  as  to  break  them  off  from  outward 
irregularities ;  and  was  mentioned  in  a  let- 
ter to  the  Society  for  Propagating  the  Gos- 
pel, which  I  have  seen  in  print,  as  the  most 
perfect  example  of  a  parish-priest  which  this 
nation,  or  perhaps  this  age,  has  produced. 
Thus  he  went  on  for  many  years  teaching 
his  people  what  he  knew,  for  he  could  teach 
them  no  more.  He  lived  in  such  retirement 
and  recess,  that  he  was  unacquainted  with 
the  persons  and  principles  of  any  who  are 
now  branded  as  enthusiasts  and  methodists. 
One  day  reading  Ephes.  iii.  in  his  Greek 
Testament,  his  thoughts  were  stopped  by 


236 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


tlie  word  otvij.xy.«rT9»,  in  verse  8.  He  was 
struck,  and  led  to  think  with  himself,  to  this 
purpose : — "  The  apostle,  when  speaking-  of 
the  love  and  riches  of  Christ,  uses  remarka- 
ble expressions ;  he  speaks  of  heights,  depths, 
and  lengths,  and  breadths,  and  unsearchable- 
ness,  where  I  seem  to  find  every  thing  plain, 
easy,  and  rational.  He  finds  mysteries  where 
I  can  perceive  none.  Surely,  though  I  use 
the  words  gospel,  faith,  and  grace  with  him, 
my  ideas  of  them  must  be  different  from 
his."  This  led  him  to  a  close  examination 
of  all  his  epistles,  and,  by  the  blessings  of 
God,  brought  on  a  total  change  in  his  views 
and  preaching.  He  no  longer  set  his  people 
to  keep  a  law  of  faith,  to  trust  in  their  sin- 
cerity and  endeavours  upon  some  general 
hope  that  Christ  would  help  them  out  where 
they  came  short;  but  he  preached  Christ 
himself,  as  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteous- 
ness to  every  one  that  believeth.  He  felt 
himself,  and  laboured  to  convince  others, 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  a  sinner,  but  merely 
in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  no  possibility  of 
his  doing  any  works  acceptable  to  God,  till 
he  himself  be  first  made  accepted  in  the  Be- 
loved. Nor  did  he  labour  in  vain.  Now  his 
preaching  effected  not  only  an  outward  re- 
formation, but  a  real  change  of  heart,  in  very 
many  of  his  hearers.  The  word  was  received, 
as  Paul  expresses  it,  not  with  a  rational  assent 
only,  but  with  demonstration  and  power  in 
the  floly  Ghost,  and  in  much  assurance;  and 
their  endeavours  to  observe  the  gospel  pre- 
cepts were  abundantly  more  extensive,  uni- 
form, and  successful,  when  they  were  brought 
to  say,  with  the  apostle,  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ :  nevertheless  I  live,  yet  not  I, 
but  Christ  liveth  in  me ;  and  the  life  I  live 
in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God." 

Such  a  change  of  views  and  sentiments  I 
pray  God  my  friend  may  experience.  These 
things  may  appear  uncouth  to  you  at  present, 
as  they  have  done  to  many,  who  now  bless 
God  for  showing  them  what  their  reason  could 
never  have  taught  them.  My  divinity  is  un- 
fashionable enough  at  present,  but  it  was  not 
so  always ;  you  will  find  few  books  written 
from  the  era  of  the  Reformation  till  a  little 
before  Laud's  time,  that  set  forth  any  other. 
There  were  few  pulpits  till  after  the  Restora- 
tion from  which  any  other  was  heard.  A  la- 
mentable change  has  indeed  since  taken 
place;  but  God  has  not  left  himself  without 
witnesses.  You  think,  though  I  disclaim  in- 
fallibility, I  arrogate  too  much,  in  speaking 
with  so  much  certainty.  I  am  fallible,  in- 
deed ;  but  I  am  sure  of  the  main  points  of 
doctrine  I  hold.  I  am  not  in  the  least  doubt, 
whether  salvation  be  of  faith  or  of  works ; 
whether  faith  be  of  our  own  pow«r,  or  of 
God's  operation ;  whether  Christ's  obedience 
or  our  own  be  the  just  ground  of  our  hope ; 
whether  a  man  can  truly  call  Jesus  Lord, 


[let.  VII. 


j  but  by  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  I 
I  have  no  more  hesitation  about  these  points 
than  I  should  have,  were  I  asked,  Whether 
it  was  God  or  man  that  created  the  heavens 
and  the  earth]  Besides,  as  I  have  more 
than  once  observed,  your  sentiments  were 
once  my  own ;  so  that  I,  wlio  have  travelled 
both  roads,  may  have,  perhaps,  some  stronger 
reason  to  determine  me  which  is  the  right, 
than  you  can  have,  who  have  only  traveUea 
one. 

Your  two  sheets  may  lead  me  to  write  a» 
many  quires,  if  I  do  not  check  myself.  I 
now  come  to  the  two  queries  you  propose, 
the  solution  of  which,  you  think,  will  clearly 
mark  the  difference  of  our  sentiments.  The 
substance  of  them  is,  1st,  Whether  I  think 
any  sinner  ever  perished  in  his  sins  (to  whom 
the  gospel  has  been  preached,)  because  God 
refused  to  supply  him  with  such  a  proportion 
of  his  assistance  as  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  his  believing  and  repenting,  or  without  his 
having  previously  rejected  the  incitements  of 
his  Holy  Spirit  ]  A  full  answer  to  this  would 
require  a  sheet.  But  briefly,  I  believe,  that 
all  mankind  being  corrupt  and  guilty  before 
God,  he  might,  without  impeachment  to  his 
justice,  have  left  them  all  to  perish,  as  we  are 
assured  he  did  the  fallen  angels.  But  he  was 
pleased  to  show  mercy,  and  mercy  must  be 
free.  If  the  sinner  has  any  claim  to  it,  so  far 
it  is  justice  not  mercy.  He  who  is  to  be  our 
Judge  assures  us,  that  few  find  the  gate  that 
leadeth  to  life,  v.hLle  many  throng  the  road  to 
destruction.  Your  question  seems  to  imply, 
that  you  think  God  either  did  make  salvation 
equally  open  to  all,  or  that  it  would  have 
been  more  becoming  his  goodness  to  have 
done  so. 

But  he  is  the  potter,  we  are  the  clay  ;  his 
ways  and  thoughts  are  above  ours,  as  the  hea- 
vens are  higher  than  the  earth.  The  Judge 
of  all  the  earth  will  do  right.  He  has  ap- 
pointed a  day,  when  he  will  manifest,  to  the 
conviction  of  all,  that  he  has  done  right. 
Till  then,  I  hold  it  best  to  take  things  upon 
his  word,  and  not  too  harshly  determine  what 
it  becomes  Jehovah  to  do.  Instead  of  say- 
ing what  I  think,  let  it  suffice  to  remind  you 
of  what  St.  Paul  thought,  Rom.  ix.  15—21. 
But  farther,  I  say,  that  unless  mercy  were  af- 
forded to  those  who  are  saved,  in  a  way  pe- 
culiar to  themselves,  and  which  is  not  afforded 
to  those  who  perish,  I  believe  no  one  soul 
could  be  saved.  For  I  believe  fallen  man, 
universally  considered  as  such,  is  as  incapable 
of  doing  the  least  thing  towards  his  salvation 
till  prevented  by  the  grace  of  God  (as  our 
Article  speaks,)  as  a  dead  body  is  of  restoring 
itself  to  life.  Whatever  d  ifference  takes  place 
between  men  in  this  respect  is  of  grace,  that 
is,  of  God,  undeserved.  Yea,  his  first  ap- 
proaches to  our  hearts  are  undesired  too;  for 
till  he  seeks  us,  we  cannot,  we  will  not,  stek 
him,  Psalm  ex.  3,     It  is  in  the  day  of  hi« 


UrrTERS  TO  THR  REV.  MR.  S 


257 


jH)\vor,  aiul  Mot  boforr,  his  pctiplo  nro  mndf 
willmj;.  iUit  I  Ih'Upvo,  wlicrr  tlu.'  posncl  is 
preuolifd,  thoy  who  do  perish,  do  will'iiliy  ro- 
Bist  the  li^jht,  mid  (•hiK>so  luul  ch'avo  todurk- 
ncs8,  and  stitlo  the  convictions  which  the 
trnths  of  CiikI,  wht'n  his  true  irospel  is  indeed 
preached,  will,  in  one  dejrree  or  other,  force 
ujwn  their  minds.  Tlie  cares  of  this  world, 
the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  the  love  of  other 
thin«j:s,  the  violence  of  sinful  appetites,  their 
prejudices,  pride,  and  self-ri<^hteousness, 
either  prevent  the  reception,  or  choke  the 
growth,  of  the  «jiK)d  seed:  thus  their  own 
sin  and  obstinacy  is  the  pro|>cr  cause  of  tlieir 
destruction  ;  they  will  not  come  to  C'hrist, 
that  thoy  may  have  life.  At  the  same  time, 
it  is  true  that  they  cannot,  unless  they  are 
supernaturally  drawn  of  God,  John  v.  40, 
vi.  44.  Tliey  will  not,  and  they  cannot 
come.  Both  are  equally  true,  and  they  arc 
consistent.  For  a  man's  cannot  is  not  a  natu- 
ral, but  a  moral  inability:  not  an  impossi- 
bility in  the  nature  of  thing's,  as  it  is  for  me 
to  walk  upon  the  water,  or  to  fly  in  the  air; 
but  such  an  inability  as,  instead  of  extenua- 
ting', does  exceedingly  enhance  and  aggra- 
vate his  guilt.  He  is  so  blinded  by  Satan, 
£0  alienated  from  God  by  nature  and  wicked 
works,  so  given  up  to  sin,  so  averse  from 
that  way  of  salvation,  which  is  contrary  to 
his  pride  and  natural  wisdom,  that  he  will 
not  embrace  it,  or  seek  after  it ;  and  there- 
fore he  cannot,  till  the  grace  of  God  power- 
fully enlightens  his  mind,  and  overcomes  his 
obstacles.  But  this  brings  me  to  your  second 
query  : 

2.  Do  I  think  that  God,  in  the  ordinary 
•course  of  his  providence,  grants  this  assist- 
ance in  an  irresistible  manner,  or  effects 
faith  and  conversion  without  the  sinner's 
own  hearty  consent  and  concurrence?  I 
rather  choose  to  term  grace  invincible  than 
irresistible :  for  it  is  too  often  resisted  even 
by  those  who  believe ;  but  because  it  is  in- 
vincible, it  triumphs  over  all  resistance  when 
He  is  pleased  to  bestow  it.  For  the  rest,  I 
believe  no  sinner  is  converted  without  his 
own  hearty  will  and  concurrence.  But  he 
is  not  willing  till  he  is  made  so.  Why  does 
he  at  all  refuse!  Because  he  is  insensible 
of  his  state ;  because  he  knows  not  the  evil 
of  sin,  the  strictness  of  the  law,  the  majesty 
of  God  whom  he  has  offended,  nor  the  total 
apostacy  of  his  heart;  because  he  is  blind  to 
eternity,  and  ignorant  of  the  excellency  of 
Christ;  because  he  is  comparatively  w-hole, 
and  sees  not  his  need  of  this  great  physicia.n ; 
because  he  relies  upon  his  own  wisdom, 
power,  and  supposed  righteousness.  Now, 
in  this  state  of  things,  when  God  comes  with 
a  purpose  of  mercy,  he  begins  by  convincing 
the  person  of  sin,  julgmcnt,  and  righteous- 
ness, causes  him  to  feel  and  knoNV  that  he  is 
a  lost,  condemned,  helpless  creature,  and 
.then  discovers  to  him  the  necessity,  suffici- 
2K 


ency,  and  willinnrnosH,  of  ChriHt  to  save  ihftm 
that  are  ready  to  peri.sh,  without  money  or 
price,  without  doings  or  deservings.  '1  hen 
lie  seofl  faith  to  be  very  different  from  a 
rational  assent,  finds  that  nothing  but  tho 
power  of  Ciod  can  produce  a  we'll  grotmdcd 
fjope  in  the  heart  of  a  convinced  sinner; 
therefon^  IcKiks  to  Jesu.s,  who  is  the  author 
and  finisher  of  faith,  to  enable  him  to  believe. 
For  this  he  waits  in  what  we  call  the  mean!} 
of  grace ;  he  prays,  he  reads  the  word,  he 
thirsts  for  (iod,  as  the  heart  pants  for  tho 
water  brooks ;  and  though,  perhaps,  for  a 
while  he  is  distressed  with  many  doubts  and 
fears,  he  is  encouraged  to  wait  on,  because 
Jesus  has  said,  ''  Him  that  cometh  unto  me, 
I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  The  obstinacy  of 
the  will  remains  while  the  understanding  is 
dark,  and  ceases  when  that  is  enlightened. 
Suppose  a  man  walking  in  the  dark,  where 
there  are  pits  and  precipices  of  which  he  la 
not  aware.  You  are  sensible  of  his  danger, 
and  call  after  him  :  but  he  thinks  he  knows 
better  than  you,  refuses  your  advice,  and  is 
perhaps  angry  with  you  tor  your  importunity. 
lie  sees  no  danger,  therefore  will  not  be 
persuaded  there  is  any ;  but  if  you  go  with  a 
light,  get  before  him,  and  show  him  plainly 
that  if  he  takes  another  step  he  falls  beyond 
the  power  of  recovery ;  then  he  will  stop  of 
his  own  accord,  blame  himself  for  not  mind- 
ing you  before,  and  be  ready  to  comply  with 
your  farther  directions.  In  either  case  man's 
will  acts  with  equal  freedom  ;  the  difference 
of  his  conduct  arises  from  conviction.  Some- 
thing like  this  is  the  case  of  our  spiritual 
concerns.  Sinners  are  called  and  warned  by 
the  word ;  but  they  are  wise  in  their  own 
eyes,  and  take  but  little  notice  till  the  Lord 
gives  them  light,  which  he  is  not  bound  to 
give  to  any,  and  therefore  cannot  be  bound 
to  give  to  ail.  They  who  have  it  have  reason 
to  be  thankful,  and  subscribe  to  the  apostle's 
words,  "  By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith ; 
and  that  not  of  yourselves,  it  is  the  gift  of 
God."  ^ 

I  have  not  yet  half  done  with  the  first  sheet : 
I  shall  consider  the  rest  at  leisure,  but  send 
this  as  a  specimen  of  my  willingness  to  clear 
my  sentiments  to  you  as  far  as  I  can.  Un- 
less it  should  please  God  to  make  what  I  offer 
satisfactory,  I  well  know  beforehand  what 
objections  and  answers  will  occur  to  you, 
for  these  points  have  been  often  debated ; 
and,  after  a  course  of  twenty-seven  years,  in 
which  religion  has  been  the  chief  object  of 
my  thoughts  and  inquiries,  I  am  not  entirely 
a  stranger  to  what  can  be  offered  no  either 
side.  What  I  write,  I  write  simply  and  in 
love,  beseeching  him  who  alone  can  set  a 
seal  to  his  own  truth  to  guide  you  and  bless 
you.  This  letter  has  been  more  than  a  week 
in  hand:  I  have  been  called  from  it,  I  sup» 
pose,  ten  times,  frequently  hi  the  middle  c/ 
a  period  or  a  line.     My  leisure,  which  befc/e 


258 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


[lET.  VIII. 


was  small,  is  now  reduced  almost  to  a  no- 
thing. But  I  am  desirous  to  keep  up  my  cor- 
respondence with  you,  because  I  feel  an  af- 
fectionate interest  in  you,  and  because  it 
pleased  God  to  put  it  into  your  heart  to  apply 
to  me.  You  cannot  think  how  your  first 
letter  struck  me:  it  was  so  unexpected,  and 
seemed  so  improbable  that  you  should  open 
your  mmd  to  me,  I  immediately  conceived  a 
hope  it  would  prove  for  good.  Nor  am  I  yet 
discouraged. 

When  you  have  leisure  and  inclination, 
write;  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  from 
you,  and  I  will  proceed  in  answering  what  I 
have  already  by  me  as  fast  as  I  can.  But  I 
have  many  letters  now  waiting  for  answers, 
which  must  be  attended  to. 

I  recommend  you  to  the  blessing  and 
care  of  the  great  Shepherd,  and  remain,  &.c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

December  8,  1775. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Are  you  willing  I 
should  still  call  you  so,  or  are  you  quite 
weary  of  me  1  Your  silence  makes  me  sus- 
pect the  latter.  However,  it  is  my  part  to 
fulfil  my  promise,  and  then  leave  the  event 
to  God.  As  I  have  but  an  imperfect  remem- 
brance of  what  I  have  already  written,  I 
may  be  liable  to  some  repetitions.  I  cannot 
stay  to  comment  upon  every  line  in  your 
letter,  but  I  proceed  to  notice  such  passages 
as  seem  most  to  affect  the  subject  in  debate. 
When  you  speak  of  the  scriptures  maintain- 
ing one  consistent  sense,  which,  if  the  word 
of  God,  it  certainly  must  do,  you  say  you 
read  and  understand  it  in  this  one  consistent 
sense ;  nay,  you  cannot  remember  the  time 
when  you  did  not.  It  is  otherwise  with  me 
and  with  multitudes ;  we  remember  when  it 
was  a  sealed  book,  and  we  are  sure  it  would 
have  been  so  still,  had  not  the  Holy  Spirit 
opened  our  understandings.  But  when  you 
add,  though  I  pretend  not  to  understand  the 
whole,  yet  what  I  do  understand  appears 
perfectly  consistent,  I  know  not  how  far  this 
exception  may  extend,  for  perliaps  the  reason 
why  you  allow  you  do  not  understand  some 
parts,  is  because  you  cannot  make  them  con- 
sistent with  the  sense  you  put  upon  other 
parts.  You  quote  my  words,  "That  when 
we  are  conscious  of  our  depravity,  reasoning 
stands  us  in  no  stead."  Undoubtedly  reason 
always  will  stand  rational  creatures  in  some 
stead ;  but  my  meaning  is,  that  when  we  are 
deeply  convinced  of  sin,  all  our  former  rea- 
sonings upon  the  ways  of  God,  while  we 
made  our  conceptions  the  standard  by  which 
we  judge  what  is  befitting  him  to  do,  as  if  he 
were  altogether  such  an  one  as  ourselves, — 
all  those  cobweb  reasonings  are  swept  away, 
and  we  submit  to  his  "tos  t^^  without  reason- 


ing, though  not  without  reason.  For  we 
have  the  strongest  reason  imaginable  to  ac- 
knowledge ourselves  vile  and  lost  without 
righteousness  and  strength,  when  we  actu- 
ally feel  ourselves  to  be  so.  You  speak  of 
the  gospel  terms  of  justification.  This  term 
is  faith.  Mark  xvi.  16,  Acts  xiii.  39.  The 
gospel  propounds,  admits  no  other  term. 
But  this  faith,  as  I  endeavoured  to  show 
in  my  former  letter,  is  very  different  from 
rational  assent.  You  speak  likewise  of  the 
law  of  faith,  by  which,  if  you  mean  what 
some  call  the  remedial  law,  which  we  are  to 
obey  as  well  as  we  can,  and  such  obedience, 
together  with  our  faith,  will  entitle  us  to  ac- 
ceptance with  God,  I  am  persuaded  the 
scriptures  speak  of  no  such  thing.  Grace 
and  works  of  any  kind,  in  the  point  of  accep- 
tance with  God,  are  mentioned  by  the  apos- 
tle not  only  as  opposites  or  contraries,  but 
as  absolutely  contradictory  to  each  other, 
like  fire  and  water,  light  and  darkness;  so 
that  the  affirmation  of  one  is  the  denial  of 
the  other.  Rom.  iv.  5,  and  xi.  6.  God  jus- 
tifies freely,  justifies  the  ungodly,  and  him 
that  worketh  not.  Though  justifying  faith 
be  indeed  an  active  principle,  it  worketh 
by  love,  yet  not  for  acceptance.  Those 
whom  the  apostle  exhorts  "to  work  out  their 
own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,"  he 
considers  as  justified  already  ;  for  he  con- 
siders them  as  believers,  in  whom  he  sup- 
posed God  had  already  begun  a  good  work ; 
and  if  so,  was  confident  he  would  accomplish  , 
it,  Phil.  i.  6.  To  them,  the  consideration 
that  God,  who  dwells  in  tlie  heart  of  believ- 
ers, wrought  in  them  to  will  and  to  do,  was 
a  powerful  motive  and  encouragement  to 
them  to  work,  that  is,  to  give  all  diligence 
in  his  appointed  means,  as  a  right  sense  of 
the  sin  that  dwelleth  in  us,  and  the  snares  j 
and  temptations  around  us,  will  teach  us  still 
to  work  with  fear  and  trembling.  You  sup- 
pose a  difference  between  christians  (so 
called)  who  are  devoted  to  God  in  baptism, 
and  those  who  in  the  first  ages  were  con- 
verted from  abominable  superstitions  and 
idolatrous  vices.  It  is  true  in  christian 
countries  we  do  not  worship  heathen  divini-  j 
ties  eo  nomine  ;  and  this  is  the  principal  dif- 
ference I  can  find.  Neither  reason  nor  ob- 
servation will  allow  me  to  think,  that  human 
nature  is  a  whit  better  now  than  it  was  in 
the  apostle's  time.  I  know  no  kinds  or  de- 
grees of  wickedness  which  prevailed  among 
heathens  which  are  not  prevalent  among 
nominal  christians,  who  have  perhaps  been 
baptized"  in  their  infancy ;  and  therefore,  as 
the  streams  in  the  life  are  equally  worldly, 
sensual,  devilish,  I  doubt  not  but  the  foun- 
tain of  the  heart  is  equally  polluted  and  poi- 
sonous ;  and  that  is  as  true,  as  in  the  days  of 
Clirist  and -his  apostles,  that  unless  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of 
God.     You  sent  me  a  sermon  upon  the  new 


LLT.  VIII.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


250 


birth,  or  refjcnprafion,  and  you  luivo  Hoverul 
of  mine  on  the  same  subject.  I  wish  yon  to 
compare  tlicm  with  each  other,  ami  witli 
scripture;  ami  I  pray  (jod  to  show  you 
wherein  tfie  (litlerenco  consista,  and  on 
which  side  the  truth  lies. 

When  you  desire  me  to  reconcile  (Jcxl's 
heinnf  the  autiior  of  sin  with  his  justice,  you 
show  that  you  misunderstand  the  whole 
strain  of  my  sentiments;  for  I  am  persuaded 
you  would  not  misrepresent  them,  it  is 
easy  to  chnru^e  harsh  consecpiences,  which  1 
neither  allow,  nor  indeed  do  they  follow  from 
my  sentiments.  God  cannot  be  the  author 
of  sin  in  that  sense  you  would  fix  upon  me ; 
but  is  it  possible  that  upon  your  plan  you  find 
no  ditficulty  in  what  the  scriptures  teach  us 
upon  this  subject !  I  conceive  that  those 
who  were  concerned  in  the  deatli  of  Christ 
,vere  very  great  smners,  and  that  in  nailing- 
him  to  the  cross  they  committed  atrocious 
wickedness ;  yet  if  the  apostle  may  be  be- 
lieved, all  this  was  according  to  the  determi- 
nate counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God,  Acts 
ii.  23;  and  they  did  no  more  than  what  his 
hand  and  purpose  had  determined  should  be 
done,  chap.  iv.  28.  And  you  will  observe 
that  this  wicked  act  (wicked  with  respect  to 
the  perpetrators)  was  not  only  permitted,  but 
fore-ordained  in  the  strongest  and  most  ab- 
solute sense  of  the  word.  The  glory  of  God 
and  the  salvation  of  men  depended  upon  its 
oeing  done,  and  just  in  that  manner,  and 
"with  all  those  circumstances  which  actually 
took  place,  and  yet  Judas  and  the  rest  acted 
ireely,  and  their  wickedness  was  probably 
their  own.  Now,  my  friend,  the  arguments 
which  satisfy  you  that  the  scriptures  do.  not 
represent  God  as  the  author  of  this  sin  in 
this  appointment,  will  plead  for  me  at  the 
same  time ;  and  when  you  think  you  easily 
overcome  me  by  asking,  "  Can  God  be  the 
author  of  sin  !"  your  imputation  falls  so  di- 
rectly upon  the  word  of  God  himself.  God 
is  no  more  the  author  of  sin  than  the  sun  is 
the  cause  of  ice;  but  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
water  to  congeal  into  ice  when  the  sun's  in- 
fluence is  suspended  to  a  certain  degree. 
So  there  is  sin  enough  in  the  hearts  of  men 
to  make  the  earth  the  very  image  of  hell, 
and  to  prove  that  men  are  no  better  than  in- 
carnate devils,  were  he  to  suspend  his  influ- 
ence and  restraint.  Sometimes,  and  in  some 
nstances,  he  is  pleased  to  suspend  it  con- 
siderably ;  and,  so  far  as  he  does,  human 
nature  quickly  appears  in  its  true  colours. 
Objections  of  this  kind  have  been  repeated 
and  refuted  before  either  you  or  I  were  born  ; 
and  the  apostle  evidently  supposes  they  would 
be  urged  against  the  doctrine,  when  he  ob- 
viates the  question,  "  Wliy  doth  he  yet  find 
fault ;  who  hath  resisted  his  will !"  To 
which  he  gives  no  other  answer  than  by  re- 
ferring it  to  God's  sovereignty,  and  the 
power  which  a  potter  has  over  the  clay.    I 


lliink  I  have  in  a  n)rmer  letter  made  Homo 
reply  to  the  chargj;  of  ixwitivcnoKH  in  my 
own  opinion.  I  acknowledge  that  I  am  fuUi- 
ble,  y«'t  I  must  again  lay  claim  to  a  crrtaifify 
al)out  the  way  of  salvation.  I  aui  as  Kure 
of  some  thingH  aa  of  my  own  e-vistcnce:  I 
should  be  so  if  there  was  no  human  creature 
upon  earth  but  myself  I  lowever,  my  senti- 
ments are  confirmed  by  tht*  sunVag«\s  of  thou- 
sands who  have  lived  before  me,  of  many 
with  whom  I  have  personally  converstMi  in 
difierent  places  and  circumstances,  unknown 
to  each  other;  yet  all  have  received  the  same 
views,  because  taught  by  the  same  Spirit. 
And  I  have  likewise  been  greatly  confirmed 
by  the  testimony  of  many  with  whom  I  have 
conversed  in  their  dying  hours.  I  have  seea 
them  rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  death,  free 
from  fears,  breathing  the  air  of  immortality ; 
heartly  disclaiming  their  duties  and  perform 
ances ;  acknowledging  that  their  bc%st  actions 
were  attended  with  evil  sufficient  to  con- 
demn them  ;  renouncing  every  shadow  of 
hope,  but  what  they  derived  from  the  blood 
of  Christ,  as  the  sole  cause  of  their  accept- 
ance ;  yet  triumphing  in  him  over  every 
enemy  and  fear,  and  as  sure  of  heaven  as  if 
they  were  already  there.  And  such  were- 
the  apostle's  hopes,  wholly  founded  on  know- 
ing whom  he  had  believed,  and  his  persua- 
sion of  his  ability  to  keep  that  which  he  had 
committed  unto  him.  This  is  faith,  a  re- 
nouncing of  every  thing  we  are  apt  to  call 
our  own,  and  relying  wholly  upon  the  blood, 
righteousness,  and  intercession  of  Jesus. 
However,  I  cannot  communicate  this  my 
certainty  to  you ;  I  only  tell  you  there  is  such 
a  thing,  in  hopes,  if  you  do  not  think  I  wil- 
fully lie  both  to  God  and  man,  you  will  be 
earnest  to  seek  it  from  him  who  bestowed  it 
on  me,  and  who  will  bestow  it  upon  all  who 
will  sincerely  apply  to  him,  and  patiently 
wait  upon  him  for  it. 

I  cannot  but  wonder,  that  while  you  pro- 
fess to  believe  the  depravity  of  human  na- 
ture, you  should  speak  of  good  qualities  in- 
herent in  it.  The  word  of  God,  describes  it 
as  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually.  That 
there  are  such  qualities  as  Stoics  and  infidels 
call  virtue,  I  allow.  God  has  not  left  man 
destitute  of  such  dispositions  as  are  neces- 
sary to  the  peace  of  society ;  but  I  deny  there 
is  any  moral  goodness  in  them,  unless  they 
are  founded  in  a  supreme  love  to  God,  have 
his  glory  for  their  aim,  and  are  produced  by 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  A  man  may  give  all 
his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  his  body  to 
be  burned,  in  zeal  for  tlw;  truth,  and  yet  be 
a  mere  nothing,  a  tinkling  cymbal,  in  the 
sight  of  him  who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth, 
but  judgeth  the  heart.  Many  infidels  and 
avowed  enemies  to  the  grace  and  gospel  of 
Christ,  have  made  a  fair  show  of  what  the 
world  call  virtue ;  but  christian  virtue  is 
grace,  the  effect  of  a  new  nature  and  new 


260 


LETTERS  TO  TIIE  REV.  MR.  S- 


life;  and  works  thus  wrouo^ht  in  God  are  as 
different  from  the  faint,  partial  imitations 
of  them  which  fallen  nature  is  capable  of 
producing,  as  a  living  man  is  from  a  statue. 
A  statue  may  exj)ress  the  features  and  linea- 
ments of  the  person  whom  it  represents,  but 
there  is  no  lile. 

Your  conunent  on  the  seventh  to  the  Ro- 
mans, latter  part,  contradicts  my  feelings. 
You  are  either  of  a  different  make  and  na- 
ture from  me,  or  else  you  are  not  rightly  ap- 
prised of  your  own  state,  if  you  do  not  find 
the  apostle's  complaint  very  suitable  to  your- 
self I  believe  it  applicable  to  the  most  holy 
christian  upon  earth.  But  controversies  of 
this  kind  are  worn  thread-bare.  When  you 
speak  of  the  spiritual  part  of  a  natural  man, 
it  sounds  to  me  like  the  living  part  of  a  dead 
man,  or  the  seeing  part  of  a  blind  man. 
Paul  tells  me,  that  the  natural  man,  what- 
ever his  spiritual  part  may  be,  can  neither 
receive  nor  discern  the  things  of  God.  What 
the  apostle  speaks  of  himself  (Rom.  vii.)  is 
no  more,  when  rightly  understood,  than  what 
he  affirms  of  all  who  are  partakers  of  a  spi- 
ritual life,  or  who  are  true  believers.  Gal.  v. 
17.  The  carnal  natural  mind  is  enmity 
against  God,  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God, 
neither  indeed  can  be.  When  you  subjoin, 
*'  Till  it  be  set  at  liberty  from  the  law  of 
sin,"  you  do  not  comment  upon  the  text,  but 
make  an  addition  of  your  own,  which  the 
text  will  by  no  means  bear.  The  carnal 
mind  is  enmity.  An  enemy  may  be  recon- 
ciled, but  enmity  itself  is  incurable.  This 
carnal  mind,  natural  man,  old  man,  flesh  (for 
the  expressions  are  all  equivalent,  and  de- 
note and  include  the  heart  of  man  as  he  is 
by  nature,)  may  be  crucified,  must  be  morti- 
fied, but  cannot  be  sanctified.  All  that  is 
good  and  gracious,  is  the  effect  of  a  new 
creation,  a  supernatural  principle,  wrought 
in  the  heart  by  the  gospel  of  Christ,  and  the 
agency  of  his  Spirit ;  and,  till  that  is  effected, 
the  TO  uv>i>.sv,  the  highest  attainment,  the  finest 
qualifications  in  man,  however  they  may 
exhalt  him  in  his  own  eyes,  or  recommend 
him  to  the  notice  of  his  fellow-worms,  are 
but  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God,  Luke 
xvi.  15.  The  gospel  is  calculated  and  de- 
signed to  stain  the  pride  of  human  glory.  It 
is  provided,  not  for  the  wise  and  the  righte- 
ous, for  those  who  think  they  have  good  dis- 
positions and  good  works  to  plead,  but  for 
the  guilty,  the  helpless,  the  wretched,  for 
those  who  are  ready  to  perish ;  it  fills  the 
hungry  with  good  things,  but  it  sends  the 
rich  empty  away.     See  Rev.  iii.  17, 18. 

You  ask.  If  man  can  do  nothing  without 
an  extraordinary  impulse  from  on  high,  is 
he  to  sit  still  and  careless]  By  no  means — 
I  am  far  from  saying  man  can  do  nothing, 
though  I  believe  he  cannot  open  his  own 
eyes,  or  give  himself  faith.  I  wish  every 
man  to  abstain  carefully  from  sinful  company. 


— .  [let.  viil 

and  sinful  actions,  to  read  the  Bible,  to  pray 
to  God  for  his  heavenly  teaching.  For  this 
waiting  upon  God  he  has  a  moral  ability; 
and  if  he  persevere  thus  in  seeking,  the 
promise  is  sure,  that  he  shall  not  seek  in 
vain.  But  I  would  not  have  him  mistake 
the  means  for  the  end  ;  think  himself  good 
because  he  is  preserved  from  gross  vices  and 
follies,  or  trust  to  his  religious  course  of  duties 
for  acceptance,  nor  be  satisfied  till  Christ  be 
revealed  in  him,  formed  within  him,  dwell 
in  his  heart  by  faith,  and  till  he  can  say  upon 
good  grounds,  "I  am  crucified  with  Christ; 
nevertheless  I  live;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ 
liveth  in  me."  I  need  not  tell  you,  these  are 
scriptural  expressions;  I  am  persuaded,  if 
they  were  not,  they  would  be  exploded  by 
many  as  unintelligible  jargon.  True  faith, 
my  dear  Sir,  unites  the  soul  to  Christ,  and 
thereby  gives  access  to  God,  and  fills  it  with 
a  peace  passing  understanding,  a  hope,  a  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory  ;  teaches  us 
that  we  are  weak  in  ourselves,  but  enables 
us  to  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might.  To  those  who  thus  be- 
lieve, Christ  is  precious,  their  beloved ;  they 
hear  and  know  his  voice :  the  very  sound  of 
his  name  gladdens  their  hearts,  and  he  mani- 
fests himself  to  them  as  he  does  not  to  the 
world.  Thus  the  scriptures  speak,  thus  the 
first  christians  experienced ;  and  this  is  pre- 
cisely the  language,  which,  in  our  days,  •«» 
despised  as  enthusiasm  and  folly.  For  it  is 
now  as  it  was  then,  though  these  things  are 
revealed  to  babes,  and  they  are  as  sure  of 
them  as  that  they  see  the  noon-day  sun,  they 
are  hidden  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  till 
the  Lord  makes  them  willing  to  renounce 
their  own  wisdom,  and  to  become  fools,  that 
thay  may  be  truly  wise,  1  Cor.  i.  18,  19; 
iii.  8. ;  viii.  2.  Attention  to  the  education  of 
children  is  an  undoubted  duty ;  and  it  is  a 
mercy  when  it  so  far  succeeds  as  to  preserve 
them  from  gross  wickedness ;  but  it  will  not 
change  the  heart.  They  who  receive  Christ 
are  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the 
flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God, 
John  i.  13. 

If  a  man  professes  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus, 
I  am  willing  to  believe  him,  if  he  does  not 
give  me  proof  to  the  contrary ;  but  I  am  sure, 
at  the  same  time,  no  one  can  love  him  in  the 
scriptural  sense,  who  does  not  know  the  need 
and  the  worth  of  a  Saviour ;  in  other  words, 
who  is  not  brought,  as  a  ruined,  helpless  sin- 
ner^ to  live  upon  him  for  wisdom,  righteous- 
ness, sanctification,  and  redemption.  They 
who  love  him  thus  will  speak  highly  of  him, 
and  acknowledge  that  he  is  their  all  in  all. 
And  they  who  thus  love  him,  and  speak  of 
him,  will  get  little  thanks  for  their  pains  in 
such  a  world  as  this  :  "  All  that  live  godly  in 
Christ  Jesus  must  suffer  persecution;"  the 
world  that  hated  him,  will  hate  them.  And 
though  it  is  possible,  by  his  grace  to  put  tc- 


LET.  VIII.] 


LKTTKRS  TO  THE  UKV.  AIR.  S- 


2fll 


ilcnco,  ill  ^k)nlo  rnrnsiiro,  tlio  ifjnoninco  of 
f(K)lish  mm  ;  tiiid  tlioiiirli  his  providt'iu't'  ciui 
prott>ot  his  j)i'opli\  so  that  Dot  ii  hiiir  ofllu'ir 
houtis  nm  be  hurt  without  his  permission  :  yot 
Uio  world  will  show  thoir  tooth,  if  thoy  tiro 
not  sutVorod  to  hito.  Tlio  ujx)stles  wcro  ac- 
coimtod  biibblors,  *v  ^.f.«jt5»,-.iiaTa  tow  ite(r>i»u  »»> 
w:.vii«w  T.f.v;^u».  I  noed  not  |)oiut  out  to  you 
the  force  of  these  expressions.  We  are  no 
bettor  than  the  iijwstlos;  nor  have  wc  rea- 
son to  expect  much  better  treatment,  so  fur 
as  we  walk  in  their  stops.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  a  sober,  dectMit  way  of  siKvik- 
inj''  of  CuhI,  and  jrocHlnoss,  and  b(Mievolence, 
and  sobriety,  which  t!ie  world  will  bear  well 
enouijh  ;  nay,  we  may  say  a  little  alK)ut  Jesus 
Christ,  as  ready  to  make  up  the  deficiencies 
of  our  honest  and  <jood  endeavours,  and  this 
will  not  displease  tliem.  But  if  we  preach 
him  as  the  only  foundation,  lay  open  the 
horrid  evils  of  the  human  heart,  tell  our 
hearers  that  they  arc  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins,  and  liave  no  better  j^round  of  hope  in 
themselves  than  the  vilest  malefactors,  in 
order  to  exalt  the  fjlory  of  Jesus,  as  saving- 
those  who  are  saved  wholly  and  freely  for 
his  own  name's  sake  ;  if  we  tell  the  virtuous 
and  decent,  as  well  as  the  profligate,  that 
unless  tliey  are  born  aofain,  and  made  par- 
lakers  of  livin^r  faith,  and  count  all  thino-s  loss 
for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ, 
they  cannot  be  saved :  this  the  world  cannot 
bear.  We  shall  be  called  knaves  or  fools, 
uncharitable  bigots,  and  twenty  hard  names. 
If  you  have  met  with  nothing  like  this,  I 
wish  it  may  lead  you  to  suspect  whether  you 
have  yet  received  the  right  key  to  the  doc- 
trines of  Christ :  for  depend  upon  it,  the  of- 
fence of  the  cross  is  not  ceased. 

I  am  grieved  and  surprised  that  you  seem 
to  take  little  notice  of  any  thing  in  the  account 
of  my  deceased  friend,  but  his  wishing  him- 
self to  be  a  deist,  and  his  having  play-books 
about  him  in  his  illness.  As  to  the  plays, 
they  were  Shakespeare's,  which,  as  a  man  of 
taste,  it  is  no  great  wonder  he  should  some- 
times look  in.  Your  remark  on  the  other 
point  shows  that  you  are  not  much  acquainted 
with  the  exercises  of  the  human  mind  under 
certain  circumstances.  I  believe  I  observed 
formerly,  that  it  was  not  a  libertine  wish. 
Had  you  known  him,  you  would  have  known 
one  of  the  most  amiable  and  unblemished 
characters.  Few  were  more  beloved  and  ad- 
mired for  an  uniform  course  of  integrity,  mo- 
deration, and  benevolence  ;  but  he  w-as  dis- 
couraged. He  studied  the  Bible,  believed  it 
in  general  to  be  the  word  of  God ;  but  his 
wisdom,  his  strong  turn  for  reasoning,  stood 
so  in  his  way,  that  he  could  get  no  solid  com- 
fort from  it.  He  felt  the  vanity  of  the  schemes 
proposed  by  many  men  admired  in  the  world 
as  teachers  of  divinity ;  and  he  felt  the  vanity 
likewise  of  his  own.  He  was  also  a  minister, 
and  had  a  sincere  design  of  doing  good.     He 


wished  to  reform  tlio  profli^fato,  and  comfort 
the  afllictod  by  his  preaching;  luil  an  he  wan 
not  ac(piiiinted  with  that  one  kind  of  proiich- 
ing  which  (mm!  owns  to  the;  edification  of  tlio 
hearers,  h(}  found  he  could  do  neither.  A 
sense  of  disap|)ointments  of  this  kind  di.strf*.»'H- 
rd  him.  Finding  in  himself  nono  of  that 
peace  which  the  .'^criptures  speak  of,  and  none 
of  the  iiilluonce  he  hoj^'d  f()r  attendmg  his 
ministry,  he  was  led  .sometime.s  to  (piostion 
the  truth  of  the  scrii)lures.  We  have  a  !-pi- 
ritual  enemy  always  neat,  to  pre.ss  up(jn  a 
mind  in  this  desponding  situation  :  nor  am  I 
surprised  that  he  should  then  wish  himself  a 
deist;  since,  if  there  were  any  hope  for  a 
sinner  but  by  faith  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  he 
had  as  much  of  his  own  goodness  to  depend 
upon  as  most  I  have  known.  As  for  the  rest, 
if  you  could  see  nothing  admirable  and  won- 
derful in  the  clearness,  the  dignity,  the  spi- 
rituality of  his  expressions,  after  the  Lord  re- 
vealed the  gospel  to  him,  I  can  only  say,  I 
am  sorry  for  it.  This  I  know,  that  some  per- 
sons of  sense,  taste,  learning,  and  reason,  and 
far  enough  from  my  sentiments,  have  been 
greatly  struck  with  them.  You  say,  a  death- 
bed repentance  is  what  you  would  be  sorry  to 
give  any  hope  of.  My  dear  friend,  it  is  well 
for  poor  sinners  that  God's  thoughts  and  ways 
are  as  much  above  men's,  as  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth.  We  agree  to  commu- 
nicate our  sentiments  freely,  and  promised 
not  to  be  offended  with  each  other's  freedom, 
if  we  could  help  it.  I  am  afraid  of  ofiending 
you  by  a  thought  just  now  upon  my  mine:, 
and  yet  I  dare  not  in  conscience  suppress  it 
I  must  therefore  venture  to  say,  that  I  hope 
they  who  depend  upon  such  a  repentance  as 
your  scheme  points  out,  will  repent  of  their  re- 
pentance itself  upon  their  death-bed  at  least, 
if  not  sooner.  You  and  I  perhaps,  should 
have  encouraged  the  fliir  spoken  young  man 
who  said  he  had  kept  all  the  commandments 
from  his  youth,  and  rather  have  left  the  thief 
upon  the  cross  to  perish  like  a  villain,  as  he 
lived.  But  Jesus  thought  differently.  I  do 
not  encourage  sinners  to  defer  their  repent- 
ance to  their  death-beds.  I  press  the  necessity 
of  a  repentance  this  moment.  But  then  I  take 
care  to  tell  them,  that  repentance  is  the  gift 
of  God  ;  that  Jesus  is  exalted  to  bestow  it ; 
and  that  ail  their  endeavours  that  way,  unless 
they  seek  to  him  for  grace,  will  be  vain  as 
washing  a  blackmoor,  and  transient  as  wash- 
ing a  sow  which  will  soon  return  to  the 
mire  again.  I  know  the  evil  heart  will  abuse 
the  grace  of  God;  the  apostle  knew  this  like- 
wise, Rom.  iii.  8,  and  vi.  3.  But  this  dia 
not  tempt  him  to  suppress  the  glorious  grace 
of  the  gospel,  the  power  of  Jesus  to  save  to 
the  uttermost,  and  his  merciful  promise,  that 
whosoever  cometh  unto  him,  he  will  in  no 
wise  cast  him  out.  The  repentance  of  a 
natural  heart  proceeding  wholly  from  fear, 
like  that  of  some  malefactors,  who  are  sorry, 


262 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  S- 


not  that  they  have  committed  robbery  or 
murder,  but  that  they  must  be  hanged  for 
it;  this  undoubtedly  is  nothing  worth, 
whether  in  time  of  liealth,  or  in  a  dying 
hour.  But  that  iu.rawo.a,  tiiat  gracious  change 
of  heart,  views,  and  dispositions,  which  al- 
ways takes  place  when  Jesus  is  made  known 
to  the  soul  as  having  died,  that  the  sinner 
might  live,  and  been  wounded,  that  he  might 
be  healed ;  this,  at  whatever  period  God  is 
pleased  to  afford  and  effect  it  by  his  Spirit, 
brings  a  sure  and  everlasting  salvation  with  it. 
Still  I  find  I  have  not  done :  you  ask  my 
exposition  of  the  parables  of  the  talents  and 

r)unds ;  but  at  present  I  can  write  no  more, 
have  only  just  time  to  tell  you,  that  when  I 
begged  your  acceptance  of  Omicron,  nothing 
was  farther  from  my  expectation  than  a  cor- 
respondence with  you.  The  frank  and  kind 
manner  in  which  you  wrote  presently  won 
upon  my  heart.  In  the  course  of  our  letters 
upon  subscription,  1  observed  an  integrity  and 
disinterestedness  in  you,  which  endeared  you 
to  me  still  more.  Since  that  our  debates 
have  taken  a  much  more  interesting  turn  ;  I 
have  considered  it  as  a  call,  and  an  opportu- 
nity put  in  my  hand,  by  the  special  provi- 
dence of  him  who  ruleth  over  all,  I  have 
embraced  the  occasion,  to  lay  before  you  sim- 
ply, and  rather  in  a  way  of  testimony  than 
argumentation,  what,  in  the  main,  I  am  sure 
is  truth.  I  have  done  enough  to  discharge 
my  conscience,  but  shall  never  think  I  do 
enough  to  answer  the  affection  I  bear  you. 
I  have  done  enough  likewise  to  make  you 
weary  of  my  correspondence,  unless  it  should 


[let.  VIII. 


please  God  to  fix  the  subject  deeply  upon  your 
mind,  and  make  you  attentive  to  the  possi- 
bility and  vast  importance  of  a  mistake  in 
matters  of  everlasting  concernment.  I  pray 
that  the  good  Spirit  of  God  may  guide  you 
into  all  truths.  He  only  is  the  effectual 
teacher.  I  still  retain  a  cheerful  hope,  that 
some  things  you  cannot  at  present  receive, 
will  hereafter  be  the  joy  and  comfort  of  your 
heart :  but  I  know  it  cannot  be  till  the  Lord's 
own  time.  I  cannot  promise  to  give  such 
long  answers  as  your  letters  require,  to  clear 
up  every  text  that  may  be  proposed,  and  to 
answer  every  objection  that  may  be  started ; 
yet  I  shall  be  glad  to  change  a  letter  now 
and  then.  At  present,  it  remains  with  you 
whether  our  correspondence  continues  or  not, 
as  this  is  the  third  letter  1  have  written  since 
I  heard  from  you,  and  therefore  must  be  the 
last  till  I  do.  I  should  think  what  remains 
might  be  better  settled  viva  voce ;  for  which 
purpose  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  or  ready 
to  wait  on  you  when  leisure  will  permit,  and 
when  I  know  it  will  be  agreeable :  but  if 
(as  life  and  all  its  affairs  are  precarious)  we 
should  never  meet  in  this  world,  I  pray  God 
we  may  meet  at  the  right  hand  of  Jesus,  in 
the  great  day  when  he  shall  come  to  gather 
up  his  jewels,  and  to  judge  the  world.  There 
is  an  endless  diversity  of  opinions  in  matters 
of  religion ;  which  of  them  are  right  and 
safe,  and  will  lead  to  eternal  glory,  dies  iste 
indicabit.  I  am  still  in  a  manner  lost  amidst 
more  engagements  than  I  Ldve  time  to 
comply  with ;  but  I  feel  i  lAJ  kiiow  that  I 
am,  &-C. 


LETTERS 


TO  MR.  B- 


Si.c. 


LETTER  I. 

September  28,  1774. 

MY  DEAREST  SIR, 1    SCG    tllO    nCCCSsity  of 

havinrr,    if  possible,    my   principles   at   my 
finders'  ends,  that  I  may  apply  them  as  occa- 
sions  arise   every   hour.     Certainly    if  my 
ability  was  equal  to  my  inclination,  I  would 
remove  your  tumour  with  a  word  or  a  touch ; 
I  would  exempt  you  instantly  and  constantly 
from  every  inconvenience  and  pain  :  but  you 
arc  in  the  hands  of  one  who  could  do  all  this 
and  more,  and  who  loves  you  infmitcly  better 
tlian  I  can  do,  and  yet  he  is  pleased  to  per- 
mit you  to  sutfer.     What  is  the  plain  infer- 
ence !     Certainly  that  at  the  present  junc- 
ture, he  to  whom  all  the  concatenations  and 
consequences  of  events  are  present  in  one 
view,  sees  it  better  for  you  to  have  this  tu- 
mour than  to  be  without  it ;  for  I  have  no 
more  idea  of  a  tumour  rising,  or  any  other 
incidental   trial    befalling'    you,    without    a 
cause,  without  a  need-be,  without  a  designed 
advantage  to  result  from  it,  than  I  have  of  a 
mountain  or  pyramid  rising  up  of  its  own  ac- 
cord in  the  middle  of  Salisbury  Plain.     The 
promise  is  express,  and  literally  true,  that 
all  things,  universally  and  without  exception, 
shall  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love   God.     But  they   work   together;   the 
smallest  as  well  as  the  greatest  events  have 
their  place  and  use, — like  the  several  stones 
in  the  arch  of  a  bridge,  where  no  one  would 
singly  be  useful,  but  every  one  in  its  place 
is  necessary  to  the  structure  and  support  of 
the  arch  ;  or  rather  like  the  movement  of  a 
watch,  where   though  there  is  an  evident 
subordination  of  parts,  and  some  pieces  have 
a    greater    comparative    importance    than 
others,  yet  the  smallest  pieces  have   their 
place  and  use,  and  are  so  far  equally  import- 
ant, that  the  whole  design  of  the  machine 
would  be  obstructed  for  want  of  them.    Some 
dispensations  and  turns  of  divine  providence 
may  be  compared  to  the  main  spring  or  capital 
wheels  which  have  a  more  visible,  sensible,and 
determining  influence  upon  the  whole  tenor 
of  our  lives :  but  the  more  ordinary  occur- 
rences of  every  day  are  at  least  pins  and 


pivots,  adjusted,  timed,  and  suited  with  equal 
accuracy,  by  the  hand  of  the  same  great  Artist 
who  planned  and  executes  the  whole ;  and 
we  are  sometimes  surprised  to  see  how  much 
more  depends  and  turns  upon  them  than  we 
were  aware  of     Then  we  admire  his  skill, 
and  say  he  has  done  all  things  well.     Indeed, 
with  respect  to  his  works  of  providence,  a3 
well  as  of  creation,  he  well  deserves  the  title 
o^  Maximus  in  minimis.     Such  thoughts  els 
these,  when  I  am  enabled  to  realize  them, 
in  some  measure  reconcile  me  to  what  he 
allots  for  myself  or  my   friends,  and  con- 
vince me  of  the  propriety  of  tiiat  expostula- 
tion, which  speaks  the  language  of  love  as 
well  as  of  authority,  "  Be  still,  and  know 
that  I  am  God."     I  sympathize  with  you  in 
your  trial,  and  pray  and  trust  that  your  Shep- 
herd will  be  your  Physician  ;  will  superin- 
tend and  bless  the  use  of  means ;  will  give 
you  in  his  good  time  health  and  cure,  and  at 
all  times  reveal  unto  you  abundance  of  peace. 
His  promises  and  power  are  necessary  for 
our  preservation  in  the  smoother  scenes  he 
has  allotted  for  us,  and  they  are   likewise 
sufficient  for  the  roughest.     We  are  always 
equally  in  danger  in  ourselves,  and  always 
equally  safe  under  the  shadow  of  his  wings. 
No   storms,  assaults,  sieges,  or  pestilences 
can  hurt  us,  till  we  have  filled  up  his  ap- 
pointed measure  of  service ;  and  when  our 
work  is  done,  and  he  has  ripened  us  for  glory, 
it  is  no  great  matter  by  what  means  he  is 
pleased  to  call  us  home  to  himself. 

I  have  only  room  to  present  our  joint  and 
sincerest  respects.  The  Lord  bless  you  all. — 
I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  II. 

October  1.5,  1774. 
MY  DEAREST  SIR, — I  think  the  greatness 
of  trials  is  to  be  estimated,  rather  by  the  im- 
pression they  make  upon  our  spirits,  than 
by  their  outward  appearance.  The  small- 
est will  be  too  heavy  for  us  if  we  are  left 
to  grapple  with  it  in  our  own  strength,  or 
rather,  weakness ;  and  if  the  Lord  is  pleased 
263 


264 


LETTERS  TO  MR.  B- 


to  put  forth  his  power  in  us,  he  can  make  the 
heaviest  light.  A  lively  impression  of  his 
love,  or  of  his  suflerings  lor  us,  or  of  the 
g^lories  within  the  vail,  accompanied  with  a 
due  sense  of  the  misery  from  which  we  are 
redeemed  ;  these  thow<rhts  will  enahle  us  to 
be  not  only  suhmissive,  but  even  joyful  in 
tribulations.  When  faith  is  in  exercise, 
thoujrli  the  flesh  will  have  its  feelings,  the 
spirit  will  triumpli  over  them.  But  it  is 
needful  we  should  know  tliat  we  have  no 
sufficiency  in  ourselves,  and  in  order  to  know 
it,  we  must  feel  it ;  and  therefore,  the  Lord 
sometimes  withdraws  his  sensible  influence, 
and  then  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  will  be  an  over- 
match for  our  patience  ;  at  other  times,  he 
will  show  us  wliat  he  can  do  in  us  and  for 
us ;  then  we  can  adopt  the  apostle's  words, 
and  say,  I  can  do  and  suffer  all  things  through 
Christ  strengthening  me.  He  has  said,  My 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.  It  is  observ- 
able, that  the  children  of  God  seldom  disap- 
point our  expectations  under  great  trials ;  if 
they  show  a  wrongness  of  spirit,  it  is  usually 
in  such  little  incidents,  that  we  are  ready  to 
wonder  at  them  :  for  which,  two  reasons  may 
be  principally  assigned.  When  great  trials 
are  in  view,  we  run  simply  and  immediately 
to  our  all-sufficient  friend,  feel  our  depen- 
dance,  and  cry  in  good  earnest  for  help ;  but 
if  the  occasion  seems  small,  we  are  too  apt 
secretly  to  lean  to  our  own  wisdom  and 
strength,  as  if  in  such  slight  matters  we 
could  make  shift  without  him.  Therefore, 
in  these  we  often  fail.  Again,  the  Lord 
deals  with  us  as  we  sometimes  see  mothers 
with  their  children.  When  a  child  begins 
to  walk,  he  is  often  very  self-important ;  he 
thinks  he  needs  no  help,  and  can  hardly  bear 
to  be  supported  by  the  finger  of  another. 
Now,  in  such  a  case,  if  there  is  no  danger 
of  harm  from  a  fall,  as  if  he  is  on  a  plain 
carpet,  the  mother  will  let  him  alone  to  try 
how  he  can  walk.  He  is  pleased  at  first, 
but  presently  down  he  comes ;  and  a  few  ex- 
periments of  this  kind  convince  him  he  is 
not  so  strong  and  able  as  he  thought,  and 
make  him  willing  to  be  led.  But  was  he 
upon  the  brink  of  a  river  or  a  precipice,  from 
whence  a  fall  might  be  fatal,  the  tender  mother 
would  not  trust  him  to  himself,  no  not  for  a. 
moment.  I  have  not  room  to  make  the  ap- 
plication, nor  is  it  needful.  It  requires  the 
same  grace  to  bear  with  a  right  spirit  a  cross 
"word,  as  a  cross  injury ;  or  the  breaking  of  a 
china-plate,  as  the  death  of  an  only  son. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

November  23,  1774. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  hope  to  be  informed  in 
due  time,  that  the  Lord  has  given  you  full 


[let.  iir. 


health  and  cure.  He  has  preserved  me 
hitherto  from  the  hands  of  surgeons;  but  I 
feel  as  if  my  flesh  would  pr«ve,  as  you  say,, 
a  very  coward,  were  it  needful  to  submit  to 
a  painful  operation.  Yet  I  observe,  when 
such  operations  are  necessary,  if  people  are- 
satisfied  of  a  surgeon's  skill  and  prjdcnce^ 
they  will  not  only  yield  to  be  cut  at  his 
pleasure,  without  pretending  to  direct  him 
where,  or  how  long  he  shall  make  the  inci- 
sion, but  will  thank  and  pay  him  for  putting- 
them  to  pain,  because  they  believe  it  for 
their  advantage.  I  wish  I  could  be  more 
like  them  in  my  concerns.  My  body,  as  I 
said,  is,  through  mercy,  free  from  considera- 
ble ailments,  but  I  have  a  soul  that  requires 
surgeon's  work  continually ;  there  is  some 
tumour  to  be  discussed  or  laid  open,  some 
dislocation  to  be  reduced,  some  fracture  to 
be  healed,  almost  daily.  It  is  my  great 
mercy,  that  one  who  is  infallible  in  skill, 
who  exercises  incessant  care,  and  boundless 
compassion  towards  all  his  patients,  has  un- 
dertaken my  case ;  and  complicated  as  it  is, 
I  dare  not  doubt  his  making  a  perfect  cure. 
Yet  alas  !  I  too  often  discover  such  impa- 
tience, distrust,  and  complaining,  when  un- 
der his  hand,  am  so  apt  to  find  fault  with- 
the  instruments  he  is  pleased  to  make  use  of, 
so  ready  to  think  the  salutary  wounds  he- 
makes,  unnecessary  or  too  large ;  in  a  word, 
I  show  such  a  promptness  to  control,  were 
I  able,  or  to  direct  his  operations,  that,  were- 
not  his  patience  beyond  expression,  he  would 
before  now  have  given  me  up.  I  am  per- 
suaded, no  money  would  induce  Mr. to- 

attend  upon  a  patient  who  should  act  towards 
him  as  I  have  done  towards  my  best  Physi- 
cian. Sometimes  I  indulge  a  hope  that  I  am 
growing  wiser,  and  think  surely,  after  such 
innumerable  proofs  as  I  have  had,  that  he 
does  all  things  well,  I  shall  now  be  satisfied 
to  leave  myself  quietly  and  without  reserve- 
to  his  disposal.  A  thousand  such  surrenders- 
I  have  made,  and  a  thousand  times  I  have  in- 
terpretatively  retracted  them.  Yet  still  he 
is  gracious.  O,  how  shall  I  praise  him  at 
last! 

I  thank  you  for  your  letter ;  I  never  re- 
ceive one  from  you  without  pleasure,  and,  I 
believe,  seldom  without  profit,  at  least  for 
the  time.  I  believe,  with  you,  that  there  ia 
much  of  the  proper  and  defined  efficacy  of 
the  gospel-ministry  which  I  have  not  yet  ex- 
perienced. And  I  suppose  they  who  are  ad 
vanced  far  beyond  me  in  the  divine  life,  judge 
the  same  of  their  utmost  present  attainments. 
Yet  I  have  no  idea  of  any  permanent  state 
in  this  life,  that  shall  make  my  experience 
cease  to  be  a  state  of  warfare  and  humiliation. 
At  my  first  setting  out,  indeed,  I  thought  to 
be  better,  and  to  feel  myself  better  from  year 
to  year ;  I  expected  by  degrees  to  attain 
every  thing  which  I  then  comprised  in  my 
idea  of  a  saint.     I  thought  my  grain  of  grace^ 


ijyrTKris  to  mu.  n- 


Lb-r.  V.J 

oy  miicli  dilijifonco  and  careful  iriiprovcinont,  • 
would  ill  tinto  ntnouiit  to  a  |K>un(l,  that  |K)UII(1 
in  a  farther  space  of  tiuji*  to  a  liiliMit,  and 
then  1  Iio|Kh1  to  iiicn*ase  trorn  one  talent  to 
nitiny  ;  so  timt  su|)|H)sin;^  tin?  I/)rd  should 
Bpare  nie  a  competent  innnber  of  years,  I 
pleased  mysidf  with  the  thoui^liLs  of  dyinjif 
rich.  But,  alas !  tjiese  my  jj^olden  expecta- 
twwis  have  been  like  South  Sea  dreams;  I 
have  lived  hitherto  a  |H)or  sinniT,  and  1  be- 
lie\e  I  shall  die  one.  llavt^  I  then  jrained 
nothini^  by  waitinij^  upon  the  Lord  !  Yes,  I 
have  ijained  that,  which  I  once  would  rather 
have  been  without,  such  accumulated  pr(X)fs 
of  the  deceitt'idnessand  desperate  wickedness 
of  my  heart,  as  I  hope,  by  the  Lord's  blessintr-, 
has  in  some  measure  tauirht  mo  to  know 
what  I  mean,  when  I  say,  Behold  I  am  vile ! 
And  in  connexion  with  this,  I  have  trained 
such  experience  of  the  wisdom,  power,  and 
compassion  of  niy  Redeemer,  the  need,  the 
worth  of  his  bI(X)d,  righteousness,  attention, 
and  intercession — the  glory  that  he  displays 
in  pardoning-  inicpiity  and  sin,  and  passing 
by  the  transgression  of  the  renniant  of  his 
heritage,  that  my  soul  cannot  but  cry  out, 
Who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee !  Thus,  if  I 
have  any  meaner  thoughts  of  myself  (Ezek. 
xvi.  03,)  and  any  higlier  thoughts  of  him 
than  I  had  twenty  years  ago,  I  have  reason 
to  be  thankful ;  every  grain  of  tliis  experi- 
ence is  worth  mountains  of  gold.  And  if, 
by  his  mercy,  I  shall  yet  sink  more  in  my  own 
esteem,  and  he  will  be  pleased  to  rise  still 
more  glorious  to  my  eyes,  and  more  precious 
to  my  heart ;  I  expect  it  will  be  much  in  the 
same  way.  I  was  ashamed  when  I  began 
to  seek  him,  I  am  more  ashamed  now ;  and 
I  expect  to  be  most  of  all  ashamed  when  he 
shall  appear  to  destroy  my  last  enemy.  But, 
O !  I  may  rejoice  in  him,  to  think  that  he 
will  not  be  ashamed  of  me. — I  am,  &lc. 


205 


LETTER  IV. 

MuT/  19,  1775. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  hopo  you  find  the  Lord 
present  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places. 
When  it  is  so,  we  are  at  home  everywhere ; 
when  it  is  otherwise,  home  is  a  prison,  and 
abroad  a  wilderness.  I  know  what  I  ought 
to  desire,  and  what  I  do  desire.  I  point  him 
out  to  others  as  the  all  in  all ;  I  esteem  him 
as  such  in  my  own  judgment;  but,  alas! 
my  experience  abounds  with  complaints. 
He  is  my  sun  ;  but  clouds,  and  sometimes 
walls,  intercept  him  from  my  view.  He  is 
my  strength ;  yet  I  am  prone  to  lean  upon 
reeds.  He  is  my  friend ;  but  on  my  part 
there  is  such  coldness  and  ingratitude  as  no 
other  friend  could  bear.  But  still  he  is  gra- 
cious, and  shames  me  with  his  repeated  mul- 
tiplied goodness.  O  for  a  warmer  heart,  a 
2L 


more  simple  tlopendance,  a  inort;  active  zoa!, 
a  more  Hcnsibh*  delivrranc(f  from  thf  (•O'ccIji 
of  this  Ixuiy  of  sin  and  death  I  llr  iM'Jp.s  mo 
m  my  endeavours  to  keep  the  vinr'yardH  «>f 
othi'rs;  but,  ala.s !  my  own  does  not  himmu  Id 
Mourish  as  some  do  around  me.  IIow«!ver, 
though  I  camiot  say  I  Ial)our  more  abun- 
dantly than  they  all,  I  have  rea.son  to  .say 
with  thankfulness,  "  By  the  grace  of  Cuxl,  I 
am  what  I  am."  My  |Mx)r  story  would  s(K)n 
he  much  worse,  did  not  he  support,  restrain, 
and  watch  over  me  every  mimite.  J^et  mo 
intreat  your  praises  and  prayers  on  the  be- 
half of  me  and  mine,  and  may  the  Lord  bless 
you  and  yours  with  an  increase  in  every  good. 
— I  am,  Slc. 


LETTER  V. 

September  2,  1776. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  youug  woman  I  spoke 
of  is  still  living,  and  not  much  weaker  than 
when  I  left  her.  The  Lord  was  pleased  to 
relieve  her  on  Tuesday  evening,  and  she 
was  comfortable  the  remainder  of  the  week. 
But  yesterday  her  conflicts  returned,  and  she 
was  in  great  distress.  The  enemy  who  al- 
ways fights  against  the  peace  of  the  Lord's 
children,  finds  great  advantage  against  them 
when  their  spirits  arc  weakened  and  worn 
down  by  long  illness,  and  is  often  permitted 
to  assault  them.  The  reasons  are  hidden 
from  us,  but  they  are  doubtless  worthy  of 
his  wisdom  and  love,  and  they  terminate  in 
victory  to  the  praise  of  his  glorious  grace, 
which  is  more  signally  manifested  by  his 
leading  them  safely  through  fire  and  water, 
than  if  their  path  was  always  smooth.  He 
is  sovereign  in  his  dispensations,  and  ap- 
points some  of  his  people  to  trials  and  exer- 
cises to  which  others,  perhaps,  are  strangers 
all  their  days.  Believers  are  soldiers:  all  sol- 
diers, by  their  profession,  are  engaged  to  fight 
if  called  upon,  but  who  shall  be  called  to  sus- 
tain the  hottest  service,  and  be  most  frequently 
exposed  upon  the  field  of  battle,  depends  upon 
the  will  of  the  general  or  king.  Some  of  our 
soldiers  are  now  upon  hard  service  in  Ame- 
rica, while  others  are  stationed  round  the 
palace,  see  the  King's  face  daily,  and  have 
no  dangers  or  hardships  to  encounter.  These, 
however,  are  as  liable  to  a  call  as  the  others; 
but  if  not  called  upon,  they  may  enjoy  with 
tliankfulness  the  more  easy  post  assigned 
them.  Thus  the  Captain  of  our  salvation 
allots  to  his  soldiers  such  stations  as  he  thinks 
proper.  He  has  a  right  to  employ  whom  he 
will,  and  where  he  will.  Some  are  compa- 
ratively at  ease;  they  are  not  exposed  to  the 
fiercest  onsets,  but  live  near  his  presence : 
others  are,  to  appearance,  pressed  above 
measure,  beyond  strength,  so  that  they  des- 
pair even  of  life;  yet  they  are  supported^ 


266 


LETTERS  TO  IVIR.  B- 


And  in  the  end  made  more  than  conquerors, 
through  him  that  hath  loved  them.  Long 
observation  convinces  me,  that  the  tempta- 
tions which  some  endure  are  not  chastise- 
ments broucrht  upon  tliem  by  unfaithfulness, 
or  for  any  thing  remarkably  wrong  in  their 
spirit  or  walk ;  I  often  rather  consider  that 
in  this  warfare,  as  in  worldly  wars,  the  post 
of  danger  and  difficulty  is  the  post  of  honour, 
and  as  such  assigned  to  those  whom  he 
has  favoured  with  a  peculiar  measure  of  his 
grace.  This  young  woman,  in  particular, 
was  always  from  her  first  awakening  remark- 
ably humble  and  spiritual,  and  possessed  of  a 
broken  and  contrite  spirit.  I  never  saw  her 
in  a  wrong  spirit,  or  heard  her  speak  an  un- 
advised word ;  yet  I  believe  it  is  impossible 
to  express  the  agonies  she  has  endured.  The 
effect  of  them  is  visible.  Her  animal  frame 
was  unable  to  sustain  the  burden.  I  believe 
they  were  the  immediate  cause  of  that  illness 
which  is  now  bringing  her  down  to  the  grave. 
I  doubt  not  but  these  cases  depend  in  a  great 
measure  upon  constitution ;  but  then  the 
temperament  of  our  bodies  depends  upon  his 
pleasure,  for,  if  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are 
numbered,  it  is  impossible  that  those  circum- 
stances of  our  frame  which,  by  the  near  con- 
nexion between  body  and  soul,  have  a  pow- 
erful influence  upon  the  state  of  our  minds, 
can  escape  his  notice.  He  could  cure  such 
bodily  disorders  as  effect  the  peace  of  his 
people  in  a  moment,  yet  he  does  not,  though 
he  loves  them.  There  must  be  therefore 
wise  reasons  why  he  does  not ;  and,  though 
we  know  them  not  now,  we  shall  know  them 
nereafler.  Possibly  some  suffer  for  the  in- 
struction of  the  rest,  that  we  may  learn  to  be 
more  thankfnl  to  him  for  the  peace  we  en- 
joy, and  to  be  more  humbly  dependant  upon 
him  for  the  continuance  of  it.  The  Lord's 
way  is  in  the  deep,  and  his  path  in  the  great 
waters,  untraceable  by  our  feeble  reasonings, 
but  faith  brings  in  a  good  report.  We  need 
not  doubt  but  he  does  all  things  well,  and  in 
due  time  we  shall  see  it.  In  the  meanwhile 
he  checks  our  vain  inquiries,  and  calls  upon 
us  to  be  still,  and  know  that  he  is  God. 

I  brought  home  with  me  a  thankful  sense 
of  the  kindness  and  friendship  I  am  favoured 
with  from  you  and  all  yours.  I  account  this 
connexion  one  of  the  great  comforts  of  my 
life,  and  I  hope  it  has  been,  and  will  be,  not 
only  pleasant  but  profitable  to  me.  Though 
I  am  but  an  unapt  scholar,  I  hope  I  am  not 
unwilling  to  learn,  and  the  Lord,  in  his  mer- 
ciful providence,  appoints  me  many  teachers. 
This  is  little  praise  due  to  us,  if  we  either 
communicate  or  receive  benefit  in  our  inter- 
course with  our  fellow-disciples.  In  both  we 
are  but  instruments  under  the  influence  of  a 
higher  hand.  Were  christians  to  meet  to- 
gether without  their  Lord,  they  would  either 
trifle  or  quarrel  their  time  away.  But  as 
he  has  said,  where  two  or  three  are  met, 


[let.  VI. 

there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them,  we  may 
well  be  glad  of  opportunities  of  coming  to- 
gether. And  though,  for  my  own  part,  I  am 
so  poor  an  improver  of  such  seasons,  that  the 
recollection  of  them,  when  past,  is  generally 
accompanied  with  shame  and  regret,  yet  he 
is  gracious  and  merciful,  and  seldom  leaves 
me  to  complain  that  they  were  wholly  in  vain. 
— I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VI. 

July  22,  1777. 


MY  DEAR  Sra,- 


The  complaints  you  make  of  what  passes 
within,  encourage  me  under  what  I  feel  my- 
self Indeed,  if  those  whom  I  have  reason 
to  believe  are  more  spiritual  and  humble 
than  I  am,  did  not  give  some  testimony  that 
they  find  their  hearts  made  of  the  same  ma- 
terials as  mine  is,  I  should  be  sometimes 
hard  put  to  it  to  believe  that  I  have  any  part 
or  lot  in  the  matter,  or  any  real  knowledge 
of  the  life  of  faith.  But  this  concurrent  tes- 
timony of  many  witnesses  confirms  me  in 
what  I  think  the  scriptures  plainly  teach, 
that  the  soil  of  human  nature,  though  many 
spots  are  certainly  better  weeded,  planted, 
and  manured  than  others,  is  everywhere  the 
same,  universally  bad ;  so  bad  that  it  cannot 
be  worse,  and  of  itself  is  only  capable  of  pro- 
ducing noxious  weeds,  and  nourishing  ve- 
nomous creatures.  We  often  see  the  effects 
of  culture,  skill,  and  expense  will  make  a 
garden  where  all  was  desert  before.  Wlien 
Jesus,  the  good  husbandman,  incloses  a  soil, 
and  separates  it  from  the  waste  of  the  world, 
to  make  it  a  residence  for  himself,  a  change 
presently  takes  place ;  it  is  planted  and  wa- 
tered from  above,  and  visited  with  beams 
infinitely  more  cheering  and  fertalizing  than 
those  of  the  material  sun.  But  its  natural 
propensity  to  bring  forth  weeds  still  con- 
tinues, and  one  half  of  his  dispensations  may 
be  compared  to  a  company  of  weeders,  whom 
he  sends  forth  into  his  garden  to  pluck  up 
all  which  he  has  not  planted  with  his  own 
hand,  and  which,  if  left  to  grow,  would 
quickly  overpower  and  overtop  the  rest 
But,  alas!  the  ground  is  so  impregnated 
with  evil  seeds,  and  they  shoot  in  such  quick 
succession,  that  if  this  weeding  work  were 
not  constantly  repeated,  all  former  labour 
would  be  lost  Hmc  illcB  lachrymcB !  hence 
arises  the  necessity  of  daily  crosses  and  dis- 
appointments, daily  changes  of  frame,  and 
such  multiplied  convictions  tliat  we  are  no- 
thing and  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves ;  all 
are  needful,  and  barely  sufficient  to  prevent 
our  hearts  from  being  over-run  with  pride, 
self-dependsmce,  and  security. — Yours,  &c. 


ixr.  VII.] 


LETTERS  TO  MR,  B- 


207 


LETTER  VII. 


November  G,  1T77. 

MV  DEVK  SIR, — You  SUV  vou  nnt  mon»  dis- 

post'il  to  cry  mi.srrtrr  tlmn  hallt  Itijah.   Why 

f.f    !)oth    toiri'tlior  .'     WIkmi    tlu>    treble    is 

•,  and  Ijeart-lmmiliation  tor  the  l)ass,  the 

ty  is  pleasant,  and  tlu>  harmony  jrood. 
However,  if  not  both  tofjether,  we  must  liave 
thrin  alternately  ;  not  all    sin«;inj:f,  not  all 

■iLr,  but   an    interchan^j^e  and    balance, 

we  may  be  neither  lifted  t(X)  iii<^h,  nor 
ca>L  down  too  low,  which  would  be  the  case 
if  we  were  very  comfortable  or  very  sorrow- 
ful for  a  lonj^  continuance.  But  thouofh  we 
chauire,  the  Saviour  chang'cs  not.  All  our 
rns  are  in  his  hands,  and  therefore  safe. 

>:ith  is  in  the  deep  waters,  his  thouj^hts 
ail.  methods  of  conduct  are  as  high  above 
ours  as  the  heavens  are  hig^h  above  the  earth; 
and  he  often  takes  a  course  for  accomplish- 
infTf  his  purposes  directly  contrary  to  what 
our  narrow  views  would  prescribe.  He 
wounds  in  order  to  heal,  kills  that  he  may 
make  alive,  casts  down  when  he  designs  to 
raise,  brings  a  death  upon  our  feelings, 
wishes,  and  prospects,  when  he  is  about  to 
give  us  the  desire  of  our  hearts.  These 
things  he  does  to  prove  us ;  but  he  himself 
knows,  and  has  determined  beforehand,  what 
he  will  do.  The  proof  indeed  usually  turns 
out  to  our  shame.  Impatience  and  unbelief 
show  their  heads,  and  prompt  us  to  suppose 
this  and  the  other  thing,  yea  perhaps  all 
things  are  against  us,  to  question  whether  he 
be  with  us  and  for  us,  or  not.  But  it  issues 
likewise  in  the  praise  of  his  goodness,  when 
we  find  that,  maugre  all  our  unkind  com- 
plaints and  suspicions,  he  is  still  working 
wonderfully  for  us,  causing  light  to  shine 
out  of  darkness,  and  doing  us  good  in  defiance 
of  ourselves. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VHL 


TO  MR.  B- 


-,  J  UN. 


August  24,  1774. 
DEAR  SIR, — The  lowness  of  your  voice, 
and  a  blameable  absence  of  mind  on  my  part, 
prevented  me  from  understanding  what  you 
said  when  you  took  your  leave  of  me ;  nor 
did  I  just  at  that  instant  recollect  that  you 
were  so  soon  going  away.  I  could  not  other- 
wise have  parted  with  you,  without  a  par- 
ticular expression  of  my  warmest  wishes  for 
your  welfare,  and  commending  you  with  an 
emotion  which  my  heart  always  feels  for 
you  to  our  God  and  the  word  of  his  grace. 
Permit  me,  therefore,  by  writing,  to  assure 
you,  so  far  as  I  can  answer  for  myself,  that 
the  request  you  were  pleased  to  make  for 
my  remembrance  will  not  be  forgotten  by  me. 


Youaro  going  abroad:  you  will  carry  with 
you,  I  doubt  not,  the  best  advice,  Htr«'n^th- 
ened  by  the  authority  and  artection  of  pan-nlw, 
whom  you  greatly  love  and  gnafly  rcve- 
reiuM\  This  may  seem  to  nuike  anylhmg  a 
stranger  can  olfer  unnece.s.sary,  if  not  iin- 
|)ortinent;  yet,  confiding  in  your  candour 
and  in  your  g(xxi  opinion  of  n)y  intention,  I 
shall  venture  to  let  my  pen  run  on  a  little 
longer.  Not  only  my  wishes,  but  my  hopes 
are  strong  in  your  behalf  Perhaps  there  is 
hardly  a  young  man  in  the  kingdcjin,  born  to 
a  fortune,  who  is  setting  out  in  life  u[)on 
equal  advantages  with  yourself  How  many, 
at  your  years,  who  have  been  brought  up  in 
affluence,  are  unprincipled,  uninstructed, 
and  have  already  entered  upon  a  course  of 
dissipation  and  folly,  in  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble they  themselves  can  find  satisfaction, 
and  which,  unless  they  are  reclaimed  from  it 
by  an  almighty  arm,  will  infallibly  preclude 
them  from  usefulness  and  esteem  ;  whereas 
your  early  years  have  been  successfully  era- 
ployed  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and  your 
education  formed  under  the  most  animating 
and  endearing  influence  ;  and  tlie  Lord  has 
furnished  you  with  every  natural  ability  of 
body  and  mind,  which  may  qualify  you  to 
serve  him  in  that  situation  of  life  whicli  his 
providence  has  allotted  you. 

What  may  I  not,  then,  farther  hope  from 
these  beginnings,  especially  as  it  is  easy  to  ob- 
serve, that  he  has  given  you  an  amiable  and 
promising  disposition  of  spirit,  and  has  not 
only  preserved  you  from  being  hurried  down 
the  stream  of  a  giddy  world,  but  enabled  you 
to  account  the  tender  restraint  under  which 
you  have  been  educated,  not  a  yoke,  but  a 
privilege. 

I  sympathize  \vith  you  at  what  you  will 
feel  when  you  are  first  separated  from  your 
happy  family.  But  the  Lord  God,  who  is 
the  sun  and  shield  of  those  who  fear  him,  W'ill 
be  always  near  you  !  His  favour  is  the  one 
thing  needful,  which  no  outward  advantages 
can  compensate  the  want  of;  and  the  right 
knowledge  of  him  is  the  one  thing  needful, 
which  no  human  teaching  can  communicate. 

Were  I  more  intimate  with  you,  I  could 
have  asked  the  question,  and  perhaps  re- 
ceived the  satisfaction  to  know,  that  )'ou 
have  already  begun  to  consider  him  in  this 
light ;  that  you  feel  a  vanity  in  science,  an 
emptiness  in  creatures,  and  find  tliat  you 
have  desires,  which  only  He  who  gave  thei]i 
can  satisfy.  I  trust  it  either  is,  or  will  be 
thus.  As  to  learning,  though  it  is  useftil 
when  we  know  how  to  make  a  right  use  of 
it,  yet,  considered  as  in  our  own  power,  and 
to  those  who  trust  in  it,  without  seeking  a 
superior  guidance,  it  is  usually  the  source  of 
perplexity,  strife,  scepticism,  and  infidelity. 
It  is  indeed  like  a  sword  in  a  madman's 
hands,  which  gives  him  the  more  opportunity 
of  hurting  himself  and  otliers.     As  to  what 


208 


LETTERS  TO  MiSS  M- 


[LET. 


tlie  world  calls  pleasure,  there  is  so  litlle  in 
it,  tiiat  even  tlie  philosophers  of  old,  or  many 
of  thorn,  thoutrh  tlicy  had  little  of  value  to 
suhstitute  in  itd  room,  could  despise  it.  You 
will  perhaps  meet  with  some,  who  will  talk 
anolher  languaufe,  who  will  pretend  to  be 
too  wise  to  submit  to  the  Bible,  and  too 
Iiapjjy  in  worldly  things,  to  expect  or  desire 
any  happiness  besides ;  but  I  trust  you  have 
seen  enoufrji  to  enable  you  to  treat  such 
persons  witli  pity,  and  such  pretensions  with 
the  contempt  they  deserve. 

Should  we  set  our  concerns  with  an  eter- 
nal world  aside  for  a  moment,  it  would  be 
easy  to  demonstrate  that  religion  is  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  make  the  most  of  this  life, 
and  to  enjoy  temporal  good  with  the  high- 
est relish.  In  such  a  world  as  this,  where 
we  are  every  moment  liable  to  so  many  un- 
foreseen and  unavoidable  contingencies,  a 
man  without  religion  may  be  compared  to  a 
ship  in  a  storm,  without  either  rudder,  anchor, 
or  pilot.  But  then,  the  religion  which  only 
deserves  the  name,  must  come  from  above : 
it  must  be  suited  to  the  state  and  wants  of  a 
sinner,  it  must  be  capable  of  comforting  the 
heart,  it  must  take  away  the  sting  and  dread 
of  death,  and  fix  our  confidence  upon  one 
who  is  always  able  to  help  us.  Such  is  the 
religion  of  Jesus,  such  are  its  effects,  and 
such  are  the  criteria  whereby  we  are  to 
judge  of  the  various  forms  and  schemes  un- 
der which  it  is  proposed  to  us.  But  I  for- 
bear ;  I  am  only  reminding  you  of  what  you 
know,  and  what  you  have  known  to  be  veri- 
fied by  living  find  dying  examples.  "This 
happiness,  my  dear  Sir,  is  open  to  you,  to  all 
who  seek.  He  is  enthroned  in  heaven,  but 
prayer  will  bring  him  down  to  the  heart. 
Indeed,  he  is  always  beforehand  with  us ; 
and  if  we  feel  one  desire  towards  him,  we 
may  accept  it  as  a  token  that  he  gave  it  us 
to  encourage  us  to  ask  for  more. 

May  he  be  your  guide  and  guard,  be  with 
you  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  and  bring 
you  back  to  your  father's  house  in  peace. 
Should  I  live  to  see  that  day,  you  have  few 
friends  whose  congratulations  would  be 
warmer  or  more  sincere  than  mine  ;  and  if, 
when  you  are  settled  and  at  leisure,  you  will 
afford  me  a  letter,  it  will  be  both  a  pleasure 
and  a  favour  to,  dear  Sir, — Yours,  &.c. 


LETTER  IX. 

TO  MISS  M B . 

November  11,  1775. 

MY  DEAJi  MISS  31 , — Our  late  visit  to 

was  very  pleasant  to  myself;  if  any 

thing  passed  that  was  of  service  to  you,  we 
know  to  whom  the  thanks  are  due ;  for  we 
can  neither  communicate  nor  receive  any 


thing,  but  so  far  as  he  is  pleased  to  enal 
us.  One  reason  why  he  often  disappoii 
us  is,  that  we  may  learn  to  depend  on  hij 
alone.  We  are  prone,  as  you  observe, 
rest  too  much  upon  sensible  comforts,  y^ 
they  are  very  desirable ;  only  as  to  the  me 
sure  and  seasons,  it  is  well  to  be  submissi\ 
to  his  will,  to  be  thankful  for  them  when 
have  them,  and  humbly  waiting  for  then 
when  we  have  them  not.  They  are  nc 
however,  the  proper  ground  of  our  hope ;  a 
good  hope  springs  from  such  a  sense  of  our 
wants,  and  such  a  persuasion  of  his  power 
and  grace,  as  engages  the  heart  to  venture, 
upon  the  warrant  of  his  promises,  to  trust  in 
him  for  salvation.  In  a  sense,  we  are  often 
hindering  him  by  our  impatience  and  unbe- 
lief; but,  strictly  speaking,  when  he  really 
begins  the  good  work,  and  gives  us  a  desire 
which  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of 
himself,  he  will  not  be  hindered  from  carry- 
ing it  on;  for  he  has  said,  I  will  work,  and 
none  shall  let  it.  Ah !  had  it  depended  upon 
myself,  upon  my  wisdom  or  faithfulness,  I 
should  have  hindered  him  to  purpose,  and 
ruined  myself  long  ago.  How  often  have  I 
grieved  and  resisted  his  Spirit !  but  hereby  I 
have  learned  more  of  his  patience  and  ten- 
derness than  I  could  otherwise  have  known. 
He  knows  our  frame,  and  what  effects  our 
evil  nature,  fomented  by  the  artifices  of 
Satan,  will  have ;  he  sees  us  from  first  to 
last.  A  thousand  evils  arise  in  our  hearts. 
A  thousand  wrongnesses  in  our  conduct, 
which,  as  they  do  arise,  are  new  to  ourselves, 
and  perhaps,  at  some  times,  we  were  ready 
to  think  we  were  incapable  of  such  things  ; 
but  none  of  them  are  new  to  him,  to  whom 
past,  present,  and  future  are  the  same.  The 
foresight  of  them  did  not  prevent  hir>  calling 
us  by  his  grace.  Though  he  knew  we  were 
vile,  and  should  prove  ungrateful  and  un- 
faithful, yet  he  would  be  found  of  us;  he 
would  knock  at  the  door  of  our  hearts,  and 
gain  himself  an  entrance.  Nor  shall  they 
prevent  his  accomplishing  his  gracious  pur- 
pose. It  is  our  part  to  be  abased  before  him, 
and  quietly  to  hope  and  wait  for  his  salva- 
tion, in  the  use  of  his  appointed  means.  The 
power,  success,  and  blessing,  are  wholly  from 
himself  To  make  us  more  sensible  of  this, 
he  often  withdraws  from  our  perceptions; 
and  as,  in  the  absence  of  the  sun,  the  wild 
beasts  of  the  forest  roam  abroad ;  so  when 
Jesus  hides  himself,  we  presently  perceive 
what  is  in  our  hearts,  and  what  a  poor  shift 
we  can  make  without  him  ;  when  he  returns, 
his  liglit  chaces  the  evils  away,  and  we  are 
well  again.  However,  they  are  not  dead 
when  most  controlled  by  his  presence. 

It  is  your  great  and  singular  mercy,  my 
dear  Miss,  that  he  has  taught  you  to  seek  him 
so  early  in  life.  You  are  entered  in  the  way 
of  salvation,  but  you  must  not  expect  all  at 
once.     The  work  of  grace  is  compared  to  the 


r.  XI.] 


Ll'VPTKIlS  TO  MISS  M- 


-.  B- 


200 


1.  and  to  a  builtlirifj;  tho  crrowtli  of  tho 
,  and  the  riirrym;,'^  forward  of  the  other, 
-raihial.      In  a  bniliUni,',  lor  instanoo,  it' 
lar<^e,  there  is  much  to  he  done  in  pre- 
■\if  and  layin^f  the  foundation,  before  the 
>  appear  alx)ve  ;,'rounil ;  nmch  is  doinj^ 
m,  when  the  work  does  not  seem,  per- 
,  to  advance   without;  and   when  it  is 
iilorably  forward,  yet  bein<^  encumbered 
I  scatVolds  and  ru!)[)islj,  a  bystUHb'r  sees 
a  n^reat  disiulvantaije,  and  can  form  but 
ion  nnporfect  jndj,'ment  of  it,     IJut  all  this 
while  the  architect  himself,  even  from  the  lay- 
ing of  the  first  stone,  conceives  of  it  accord- 
Oig  to  the  plan  and  desiufn  he  has  formed  ;  he 
jrepares  and  adjusts  the  materials,  disposing- 
>ach  in  its  proper  time  and  place,  and  views 
t  in  idea  as  already  finished.     In  due  season 
«t  is  completed,  but  not  in  a  day.     The  top- 
gtone  is  fixed,  and  then,  the  scaffolds  and  rub- 
bish being  removed,  it  appears  to  others  as  he 
intended  it  should  be.    Men  indeed  ot\en  plan 
wiiat,  for  want  of  skill  or  ability,  or  from 
j  unforeseen  disappointments,  they  are  unable 
'to  execute.     But  nothincf  can  disappoint  the 
I  heavenly  Builder;  nor  will  he  ever  be  re- 
I  proached  with  forsaking  tho  work  of  his  own 
I  hands,  or  beginning  that  which  he  could  not 
jor  would  not  accomplish,  Phil,  i,  6.     Let  us 
I  therefore  be  thankful  for  beginnings,  and  pa- 
I  tiently  wait  the  event.     Ilis  enemies  strive  to 
I  retard  the  work,  as  they  did  when  the  Jews, 
by  his  order,  set  about  rebuilding  the  temple, 
yet  it  was  finished  in  defiance  of  them  all. — 
Believe  me  to  be,  &c. 


LETTER  X. 


MY   DEAH    MISS    M- 


April  29,  1776. 
-I  thank  you  for 


vour  last ;  and  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord's  good- 
ness to  you.  To  be  drawn  by  love,  exempt- 
ed from  those  distressing  terrors  and  tempt- 
ations which  some  are  beset  with ;  to  be  fa- 
voured with  the  ordinances  and  means  of 
grace,  and  connected  with  those,  and  with 
those  only,  who  are  disposed  and  qualified  to 
assist  and  encourage  you  in  seeking  the  Sa- 
viour ;  these  are  peculiar  privileges,  which 
all  concur  in  your  case ;  he  loves  you,  he 
deals  gently  with  you,  he  provides  well  for 
Vou,  and  accompanies  every  outward  privi- 
lege with  his  special  blessing ;  and  I  trust  he 
will  lead  you  on  from  strength  to  strength, 
and  show  you  still  greater  things  than  you 
liave  yet  seen.  They  whom  he  teaches  are  al- 
ways increasing  in  knowledge,  both  of  them- 
selves and  of  him.  The  heart  is  deep,  and 
like  Ezekiel's  vision,  presents  so  many  cham- 
bers of  imagery,  one  within  another,  that  it 
requires  time  to  get  a  considerable  acquaint- 
ance with  it,  and  we  shall  never  know  it  tho- 
roughly.   It  is  now  more  than  twenty-eight 


years  Hinco  tho  I/)rd  began  to  open  nnne  Ic 
jny  own  view;  and  from  that  time  to  thin,  nl- 
most  ('Very  day  has  discovered  to  me,  wxno 
thing  which  till  then  was  unobserved  ;  and 
the  farther  I  go,  th«j  more  I  Ht;em  convinced 
that  1  have  enlen-d  but  a  littli'  way.  A  per- 
son that  travcds  in  some  parts  of  Derbyshiro 
may  easily  b(!  satisfied  that  the  country  is 
cavernous ;  but  how  large,  liow  deep,  liow 
numerous,  the  caverns  may  be,  which  are 
hidden  from  us  by  the  surface  of  the  ground, 
and  what  is  contained  in  them,  are  questi(jn3 
which  our  nicest  incjuiries  cannot  tiilly  an- 
swer. Thus  I  judge  of  my  heart,  that  it  is 
very  deep  and  dark,  and  full  of  evil ;  but  as 
to  particulars,  I  know  not  one  of  a  thousand. 
And  if  our  own  hearts  are  beyond  our  com- 
prehension, how  much  more  incomprehensi- 
ble is  the  heart  of  Jesus !  If  sin  abounds  in  us, 
grace  and  love  superabound  in  him  ;  his  ways 
and  thoughts  arc  higher  than  ours,  as  the 
heavens  are  higher  tiian  the  earth ;  his  love 
has  a  height,  and  depth,  and  length,  and 
breadth,  that  passeth  all  knowledge ;  and  his 
riches  of  grace  are  unsearchable  riches,  Eph. 
iii.  8.  18,  19.  All  that  we  have  received  or 
can  receive  from  him,  or  know  of  him  in  this 
life,  compared  with  what  he  is  in  himself,  or 
what  he  has  done  for  us,  is  but  as  the  drop  of  a 
bucket  compared  with  the  ocean,  or  a  single 
ray  of  light  in  respect  of  the  sun.  The  waters 
of  the  sanctuary  flow  to  us  at  first  almost 
upon  a  level,  ankle  deep,  so  graciously  does 
the  Lord  condescend  to  our  weakness :  but 
they  rise  as  we  advance,  and  constrain  us  to 
cry  out  with  the  apostle,  O  the  depth  !  Wo 
find  before  us,  as  Dr.  Watts  beautifully  ex- 
presses it, 

A  sea  of  love  and  grace  unknown. 
Without  a  bottom  or  a  shore. 

0  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ. 
It  will  be  growing  upon  us  through  time,  yea, 

1  believe  through  eternity.  What  an  astonish- 
ing and  what  a  cheering  thought,  that  this ' 
high  and  lofly  One  should  unite  liimself  to 
our  nature,  that  so,  in  a  way  worthy  of  his 
adorable  perfections,  he  might  by  his  Spirit, 
unite  us  to  himself!  Could  such  a  thought 
have  arisen  in  our  hearts,  without  tlie  war- 
rant of  his  word  (but  it  is  a  thought  which 
no  created  mind  was  capable  of  conceiving 
till  he  revealed  it,)  it  would  have  been  pre- 
sumption and  blasphemy ;  but  now  he  has 
made  it  known,  it  is  the  foundation  of  our 
hope,  and  an  exhaustible  spring  of  life  and 
joy.  Well  may  we  say.  Lord,  what  is  man 
that  thou  shouldst  thus  visit  him ! — I  am,  &lc. 


LETTER  XL 


MY  DEAR    MISS    M- 


Septcmber  3,  1776. 
— , — We  saw  no  dan- 


ger upon  the  road  homeward :  but  my  judg- 


270 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  M- 


B- 


[LET.  Xl; 


ment  tells  me  we  arc  always  upon  the  brink  i  of  grace  is  not  like  Jonali's  gourd,  which 
of  danger,  though  we  see  it  not ;  and  that,  I  sprang  up  and  flourished  in  a  night,  and  aa 
without  the  inunediate  protection  and  care  j  quickly  withered,  but  rather  like  the  oak, 
of  him  who  preserveth  the  stars  in  their  I  which,  from  a  little  acorn  and  a  tender  plant, 
courses,  there  could  be  no  travelling  safely  I  advances  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
a  few  miles,  nor  even  sitting  in  safety  by  I  growth  from  year  to  year,  till  it  becomes  a 
the  fire-side.     But  with  him  we  are  safe  in  I  broad  spreading  and  deep-rooted  tree,  and 


1 


all  places  and  circumstances,  till  our  race 
is  done,  and  his  gracious  purposes  concern- 
ing- us,  in  the  present  life,  are  completely 
answered  ;  then  he  will  call  us  home,  that 
we  may  see  his  face,  and  be  with  him  for 
ever,  and  then  it  will  not  much  signify  what 


then  it  stands  for  ages.  The  christian  oak| 
sliall  grow  and  flourish  for  ever.  When  I 
see  any  soon  after  they  appear  to  be  awaken- 
ed, making  a  speedy  profession  of  great  joy, 
before  they  have  a  due  acquaintance  with 
their  own  hearts,  I  am  in  pain  for  them.     I 


messenger  he  shall  be  pleased  to  send  for  us.   am  not  sorry  to  hear  them  afterwards  com- 


While  he  took  care  of  us  abroad,  he 
watched  over  our  concerns  at  home  likewise; 
so  that  we  found  all  well  upon  our  return, 
and  met  with  nothing  to  grieve  us.  Many 
go  out  and  return  home  no  more,  and  many 
find  distressing  things  have  happened  in  their 
absence,  but  we  have  to  set  up  our  Ebenezer, 
and  to  say,  Hitherto  he  has  helped  us.  As- 
sist me  to  praise  him.  The  Lord  is  Leading 
you  in  the  good  old  way,  in  which  you  may 
perceive  the  footsteps  of  his  flock  who  have 
gone  before  you.  They  had  in  their  day  the 
same  difficulties,  fears,  and  complaints,  as  we 
have,  and  through  mercy  we  partake  of  the 
same  consolation  which  supported  and  re- 
freshed them  ;  and  the  promises  which  they 
trusted  and  found  faithful,  are  equally  sure 
to  us.  It  is  still  true,  that  they  who  believe 
Bhall  never  be  confounded.  If  left  to  our- 
selves, we  should  have  built  upon  sand  ;  but 
he  has  provided  and  revealed  a  sure  fouTida^ 


plain  that  their  joys  are  gone,  and  they  are 
almost  at  their  wits  end ;  for  without  some 
such  check,  to  make  them  feel  their  weak- 
ness and  dependence,  I  seldom  find  them 
turn  out  well ;  either  their  fervour  insensi- 
bly abates  till  they  become  quite  cold,  and 
sink  into  the  world  again,  (of  which  I  have 
seen  many  instances,)  or  if  they  do  not  give 
up  all,  their  walk  is  uneven,  and  their  spirit 
has  not  that  savour  of  brokenness  and  true 
humility,  which  is  a  chief  ornament  of  our 
holy  profession.  If  they  do  not  feel  the 
plague  of  their  hearts  at  first,  they  find  it 
out  afterwards,  and  too  often  manifest  it  to 
others.  Therefore  though  I  know  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  free,  and  will  not  be  confined 
to  our  rules,  and  there  may  be  excepted 
cases ;  yet,  in  general,  I  believe  the  old  pro- 
verb, "Soft  and  fair  goes  far,"  will  hold 
good  in  christian  experience.  Let  us  be  - 
thankful  for  the  beginnings  of  grace,  and 


tion,  removed  our  natural  prejudices  against  wait  upon  our  Saviour  patiently  for  the  m- 
it ;  and  now,  though  rains,  and  floods,  and  i  crease.  And  as  we  have  chosen  him  for  our 
storms  assault  our  building,  it  cannot  fall,  for  }  physician,  let  us  commit  ourselves  to  his 
it  is  founded  upon  a  rock.  The  suspicions  management,  and  not  prescribe  to  him  what 
and  fears  which  arise  in  an  awakened  mind,  he  shall  prescribe  for  us.  He  knows  us  and 
proceed,  in  a  good  measure,  from  remaining  \  he  loves  us  better  than  we  do  ourselves,  and 


unbelief;  but  not  wholly  so,  for  there  is  a 
jealousy  and  diffidence  of  ourselves,  a  wari- 
ness owing  to  a  sense  of  the  deceitfulness  of 
our  hearts,  which  is  a  grace  and  a  gift  of  the 
Jjord.  Some  people  who  have  much  zeal, 
but  are  destitute  of  this  jealous  fear,  may  be 
compared  to  a  ship  that  spreads  a  great  deal 
of  sail,  but  is  not  properly  ballasted,  and  is 
therefor^^n  danger  of  being  overset  whenever 
a  storm  comes.  A  sincere  person  has  many 
reasons  for  distrusting  his  own  judgment ;  is 
sensible  of  the  vast  importance  of  the  case, 
and  afraid  of  too  hastily  concluding  in  his 
own  favour,  and  therefore  not  easily  satis- 
fied. However,  this  fear,  though  useful,  es- 
pecially to  young  beginners,  is  not  comfort- 
able ;  and  they  who  simply  wait  upon  Jesus, 
are  gradually  freed  from  it,  in  proportion  as 
their  knowledge  of  him,  and  their  experi- 
ence of  his  goodness,  increases.  He  has  a 
time  for  settling  and  establishing  them  in 
himself,  and  his  time  is  best.  We  are  hasty, 
and  would  be  satisfied  at  once,  but  his  word 
is,  Tarry  thou  the  Lord's  leisure.    The  work 


will  do  all  things  well 

You  say,  "  It  never  came  with  power  and 
life  to  my  soul,  that  he  died  for  me.*'  If  you 
mean  you  never  had  any  extraordinary  sud- 
den manifestation,  something  like  a  vision 
or  a  voice  from' heaven,  confirming  it  to  you, 
I  can  say  the  same.  But  I  know  he  died  for 
sinners ;  I  know  I  am  a  sinner :  I  know  he 
invites  them  that  are  ready  to  perish  ;  I  am 
such  a  one :  [  know,  upon  his  own  invitation, 
I  have  committed  myself  to  him ;  and  I 
know,  by  the  effects,  that  he  has  been  with 
me  hitherto,  otherwise  I  should  have  been 
an  apostate  long  ago  ;  and  therefore  I  know 
that  he  died  for  mc ;  for  had  he  been  pleased 
to  kill  me  (as  he  justly  might  have  done,)  he 
would  not  have  8ho\VTi  me  such  things  as  these. 

If  I  must  pensh.  would  the  Lord 
Have  taught  ray  heart  to  love  his  word  ? 
V/o;ild  he  have  given  me  eyes  to  see 
My  danger  and  my  remedy  ? 
Reveal'd  his  name,  and  bid  me  pray, 
Had  he  resolv'd  to  say  me  nay  ? 

I  know  that  I  am  a  child,  because 


I 
t 


LET.   XI. 


LETTERS  TO  MKSS  M- 


B- 


271 


t.'ii}M«s  ino  tt)  say,  Abbn,  Ealhor.  I  know 
1  ftin  lii.s  b«'c-aiiso  In*  Ims  tMi;il)l«*(l  iiu'  to 
-r  liiin  tor  iiiiiu*.  For  .'^mli  a  clioiro  and 
dr>ire  could  iu»vor  have  taken  placo  iti  my 
heart,  if  ho  had  not  phicod  it  thore  hiinsoli'. 
By  iiatiiro  I  was  tin)  blind  to  know  him,  t(K) 
proud  to  trust  him,  tiK)  obstinate  to  serve  him, 
too  iKKse-minded  to  love  him  ;  tlie  enmity  I 
waa   tilled   witli    u^'-ainst    his    govcrnuieiil, 


rijrhtoonsness,  and  prace,  wan  too  utronjf  to 
l)e  Mulxlued  by  any  |K)wer  but  his  own.  Tho 
love  I  bear  to  him  ifl  but  a  tiiirit  and  fiTblo 
spark,  but  it  is  an  emanation  from  him.s<'If 
He  kind'c^il  it,  and  he  k«'eps  it  alive;  and  l)c- 
cause  it  is  his  work,  1  trust  many  waters 
sjiall  not  quench  it. 

I    have  only  room  to  assure  you,  that    I 
am,  &ic. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  R- 


LETTER  L 


April  15,  1776. 


HY  DEAR  SIR, — 


t  often  rejoice  on  your  behalf.  Your  call 
out  of  the  world  was  a  singular  and  comfort- 
able instance  of  the  power  of  grace.  And 
when  I  consider  the  difficulties  and  snares 
of  your  situation,  and  that  you  have  been 
kept  in  the  middle  path,  preserved  from  un- 
due compliances  on  the  one  hand,  and  un- 
necessary singularities  on  the  other,  I  cannot 
doubt  but  the  Lord  has  hitherto  helped  and 
guided  you.  Indeed,  you  have  need  of  his 
guidance.  At  your  years,  and  with  your 
expectations  in  life,  your  health  firm,  and 
your  natural  spirits  lively,  you  are  exposed 
to  many  snares ;  yet,  if  the  Lord  keeps  you 
sensible  of  your  danger,  and  dependent  upon 
him,  you  will  walk  safely.  Your  security, 
success,  and  comfort,  depend  upon  him ;  and 
in  the  way  of  means,  chiefly  upon  your  be- 
ing preserved  in  an  humble  sense  of  your 
ovvn  weakness.  It  is  written,  "  Fear  not,  1 
am  with  thee."  It  is  written  again,  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  who  feareth  always."  There  is 
a  perfect  harmony  in  those  seemingly  differ- 
ent texts.  May  the  wisdom  that  cometh 
from  above  teach  you  and  me  to  keep  them 
both  united  in  our  view.  If  the  Lord  be 
with  us,  we  have  no  cause  of  fear.  His  eye 
is  upon  us,  his  arm  over  us,  his  ear  open  to 
our  prayer  ;  his  grace  sufficient,  his  promise 
unchangeable.  Under  his  protection,  though 
the  path  of  duty  should  lie  through  fire  and 
water,  we  may  cheerfully  and  confidently 
pursue  it.  On  the  other  hand,  our  hearts 
are  so  deceitful,  fallible,  and  frail ;  our  spi- 
ritual enemies  so  subtile,  watchful,  and  pow- 
erful; and  they  derive  so  many  advantages 
from  the  occasions  of  every  day,  in  which  we 
are  unavoidably  and  unexpectedly  concerned ; 
there  is  so  much  combustible  within,  and  so 
many  temptations  arising  from  without,  capa- 
ble of  setting  all  in  a  flame ;  that  we  cannot 
be  too  jealous  of  ourselves  and  oui"  circum- 
272 


stances.  The  duke  of  Devonshire's  motto, 
if  I  mistake  not.  well  suits  the  christian, 
Cavendo  tutus.  When  we  can  say,  in  the 
psalmist's  spirit,  "Hold  thou  me  up,"  we 
may  warrantably  draw  his  conclusion,  "and 
I  shall  be  safe ;"  but  the  moment  we  lean  to 
our  own  understanding,  we  are  in  imminent 
danger  of  falling.  The  enemy  who  wars 
against  our  souls  is  a  consummate  master  in 
his  way,  fertile  in  stratagems,  and  equally 
skilful  in  carrying  on  his  assaults  by  sap  or 
by  storm.  He  studies  us,  if  I  may  so  say, 
all  around,  to  discover  our  weak  sides ;  and 
he  is  a  very  Proteus  for  changing  his  appear- 
ances, and  can  appear  as  a  sly  serpent,  a 
roaring  lion,  or  an  angel  of  light,  as  best 
suits  his  purpose.  It  is  a  great  mercy  to  be 
in  some  measure  acquainted  witli  his  devices, 
and  aware  of  them.  They  who  wait  humbly 
upon  the  Lord,  and  consult  carefully  at  hia 
word  and  throne  of  grace,  are  made  wiser 
than  their  enemy,  and  enabled  to  escape  and 
withstand  his  wiles.  I  know  you  will  not 
expect  me  to  apologise  for  putting  you  in 
mind  of  these  things,  though  you  know  them, 
I  have  a  double  warrant ;  the  love  I  bear  you, 
and  the  Lord's  command,  Heb.  iii.  13.  Use 
the  like  freedom  with  me;  I  need  it,  and 
hope  to  be  thankful  for  it,  and  accept  it  as 
one  of  the  best  proofs  of  friendship. 

The  Lord  bless  and  keep  you.     Pray  for 
us,  and  believe  me  to  be  sincerely  yours. 


LETTER  11. 

July  13,  1776. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — The  Lord,  who  mercifully 
called  you  out  of  a  state  of  thoughtless  dissi- 
pation, and  has  hitherto  been  with  you,  will, 
I  trust,  sweeten  all  your  trials,  and  cause  his 
light  to  shine  upon  your  paths.  It  scorns 
probable,  that  if  you  pay  a  just  regard  to 
your  father's  negative,  which  I  really  think 
he  has  a  right  to  expect  from  you,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  make  a  steady  and  conscien 


LET.  III.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  llEV.  MR.  R- 


273 


tioiia  uso  of  that  noijntivo,  which  ho  pono- 
roiisly  allows  you  to  put  upon  his  pro[H)SJils, 
to  which  1  think  yon  hiive  an  iM|iml  ri^fht ;  1 
eny,  while  thiu<jfH  roiuuin  in  this  siliuition, 
ami  you  continue  to  think  (lili'crtMitly,  it 
Bceiiis  probjiblo  that  the  hour  of  your  ox- 
dnorjjhiir  a  sin^jlo  for  the  inarria^jo  stato  is 
yet  at  some  distance.  Hut  let  not  this  grieve 
you.  The  Ix)r(i  is  nll-surticient,  A  lively 
eensc  of  his  love,  a  deep  impression  of  eter- 
nity, a  heart  filled  with  zeal  for  his  cause, 
and  a  thirst  i(.)r  the  n-o(xi  of  souls,  will,  I 
hope,  enable  you  to  make  a  cheerful  sacri- 
fice of  whatever  has  no  necessary  connexion 
with  your  peace  and  his  service.  And  you 
may  rest  assured,  that  whenever  he,  who 
<oves  you  better  than  you  do  yourself,  sees  it 
6est  for  you,  upon  the  whole  to  chan(]^e  your 
condition,  he  will  bring  it  about,  lie  will 
point  out  the  person,  prepare  the  means,  and 
secure  the  success,  by  his  providence,  and 
tlie  power  he  lias  over  every  heart.  And 
you  shall  see  that  all  previous  difficulties 
were  either  gracious  preventions,  which  he 
threw  in  the  way  to  prevent  you  taking  a 
wrong  step,  or  temporary  bars,  which  by  his 
removing  them  afterwards,  should  give  you 
opportunity  of  more  clearly  perceiving  his 
care  and  interposition  in  your  favour.  In 
the  mean  time,  remember  your  high  calling. 
You  are  a  minister  and  an  ambassador  of 
Christ ;  you  are  entrusted  with  the  most  ho- 
nourable and  important  employment  that 
can  engage  and  animate  the  heart  of  man. 

Filled  and  fired  with  a  constraining  sense 
of  the  love  of  Jesus,  and  the  worth  of  souls ; 
impressed  with  an  ardour  to  carry  war  into 
Satan's  kingdom,  to  storm  his  strongholds, 
and  rescue  his  captives;  you  will  have  little 
leisure  to  think  of  any  thing  else.  How  does 
the  love  of  glory  stimulate  the  soldier,  make 
him  forget  and  forego  a  thousand  personal 
tendernesses,  and  prompt  him  to  cross  oceans, 
to  traverse  deserts,  to  scale  mountains,  and 
plunge  into  the  greatest  hardships  and  the 
thickest  dangers !  He  does  it  for  a  corrupti- 
ble crown,  a  puff  of  breath,  an  empty  fame  ; 
his  highest  prospect  is  the  applause  and  fa- 
vour of  his  prince.  We  likewise  are  sol- 
diers ;  we  have  a  Prince  and  Captain  who 
deserves  our  all.  They  who  know  him, 
and  have  hearts  to  conceive  of  his  excel- 
lence, and  to  feel  their  obligations  to  him, 
cannot  indeed  seek  their  own  glory,  but  his 
glory  is  dearer  to  them  than  a  thousand  lives. 
They  owe  him  their  souls,  for  he  redeemed 
them  with  blood,  his  own  blood ;  and  by  his 
grace  he  subdued  and  pardoned  them  when 
they  were  rebels,  and  in  arms  against  him. 
Therefore  they  are  not  their  own,  they 
would  not  be  their  ovvn.  When  his  stand- 
ard is  raised,  when  his  enemies  are  in  mo- 


♦  1  Tiro.  iv.  15,  16. 


lion,  when  \\\a  people  arn  to  ho  rosrued  ; 
they  go  forth  clothed  with  hi.s  pfinf)|)ly,  thoy 
fight  under  hi.s  ey(\  they  are  sure  of  his  Hup- 
port,  and  lu;  shows  them  the  con(|ueror'« 
crown.  (),  when  they  think  of  that  >»  <»wjh 
>  »i>,*  with  which  he  has  j)r(xni.st'd  to  welcomo 
them  home,  when  the  eamimign  is  over,  hard 
things  seem  easy,  and  bitter  things  sweet; 
they  count  nothing,  not  even  tlieir  own  lives, 
ilear,  so  that  they  rnay  finish  their  course 
with  joy.  |\Iay  the  l^ord  ir.ake  us  thus  mind- 
ed ;  give  us  a  hearty  concern  for  his  busi- 
ne.^s,  and  he  has  engaged  to  take  care  of  ours; 
and  nothing  that  can  conduce  to  our  real 
comfort  and  usefulness  shall  be  withheld. — 
Believe  me  to  be  sincerely  yours. 


LETTER  nr. 

December  21,  1776. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Your  letter  brought 
me  tidings  of  joy,  and  then  furnished  me 
with  materials  for  a  bonfire  upon  the  occa- 
sion. It  was  an  act  of  passive  obedience  to 
burn  it,  but  I  did  not  obey.  I  congratulate 
you  upon  the  happy  issue  to  which  the  I^rd 
has  brought  your  aflairs.  I  see  that  his  good 
Spirit  and  good  providence  have  been  and 
are  with  you.     I  doubt  not  but  your  union 

with  Miss will  be  a  mutual  blessing, 

and,  on  your  part,  heightened  by  being  con- 
nected with  such  a  family.  I  could  enlarge 
upon  this  head,  if  my  letter  likewise  was 
to  be  burnt  as  soon  as  you  have  read  it. 
I  look  upon  the  friendship  the  Lord  has 
given  me  there  as  one  of  my  prime  privi- 
leges, and  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  thankful 
that  it  proved  a  means  of  introducmg  you 
into  it. 

I  congratulate  you  likewise  upon  your  ac- 
cession to ,  not  because  it  is  a  good  liv- 
ing, in  a  genteel  neighbourhood,  and  a  fine 
country,  but  because  I  believe  the  Lord  sends 
you  there  for  fulfilling  the  desires  he  has 
given  you  of  being  useful  to  souls.  Church- 
preferment,  in  any  other  view,  is  dreadful ; 
and  I  would  as  soon  congratulate  a  man  upon 
seeing  a  millstone  tied  about  his  neck,  to  sink 
him  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,  as  upon  his 
obtaining  what  is  called  a  good  living,  except 
I  thought  him  determined  to  spend  and  be 
spent  in  the  cause  of  the  gospel.  A  parish 
is  an  awful  millstone  indeed  to  those  who  see 
nothing  valuable  in  the  flock  but  the  fleece; 
but  the  Lord  has  impressed  your  heart  with  a 
sense  of  the  glory  and  importance  of  his  truth 
and  the  worth  of  souls,  and  animated  your 
zeal  by  the  most  powerful  motive,  the  know- 
ledge of  his  constraining  love.  ^Your  case  is 
extraordinary.  Perhaps,  when  you  review  in 
your  mind  the  circle  of  your  former  gay  ac- 
quaintance, you  may  say,  with  Job's  servant, 

t  Well  doae,  good  servant. 


274 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  R- 


"I  only  am  escaped  alive:"  The  rest  are 
either  removed  into  an  eternal  state,  or  are 
Btill  hurry  inof  down  the  stream  of  dissipation, 
and  living  without  God  in  the  world.  Yet 
there  was  a  time  when  there  seemed  no  more 
probability,  on  your  side  than  on  theirs,  that 
you  should  obtain  mercy,  and  be  called  to 
the  honour  of  preaching-  the  glorious  gospel. 
You  are  setting  out  with  every  possible  ad- 
vantage. In  early  life,  with  a  cheerful  flow 
of  spirits,  affluent  circumstances,  and  now, 
to  crown  all,  the  Lord  gives  you  the  very 
choice  of  your  heart  in  a  partner;  one  who, 
besides  descrviiig  and  meeting  your  affec- 
tion, will,  I  am  persuaded,  be  a  real  help- 
meet to  you  in  your  spiritual  walk.  How 
much  is  here  to  be  thankful  for ! 

I  trust  the  Lord  has  given  you,  and  will 
maintain  in  you,  a  right  spirit,  so  as  not  to 
rest  in  his  gifts,  but  to  hold  them  in  connex- 
ion with  the  love  and  favour  of  the  giver. 
It  is  a  low  time  with  us,  when  the  greatest 
assemblage  of  earthly  blessings  can  seem  to 
satisfy  us  without  real  communion  with  him. 
His  grace  is  sufficient  for  you  ;  but  undoubt- 
edly such  a  scene  of  prosperity  as  seems  to 
lie  before  you,  is  full  of  snares,  and  calls  for 
a  double  effort  of  watchfulness  and  prayer. 
Your  situation  will  fix  many  eyes  upon  you, 
and  Sauin  will  doubtless  watch  you,  and  ex- 
amine every  corner  of  the  hedge  around  you, 
to  see  if  he  can  find  a  gap  by  which  to  enter. 
We  have  but  Cqw  rich  gospel-ministers;  but 
it  is  too  evident  that  he  has  found  a  way  to 
damp  the  zeal  and  hurt  the  spirits  of  some  of 
those  few,  who  for  a  time  acted  nobly,  and 
Bcemed  to  walk  out  of  the  reach  of  the  allure- 
ments of  the  world.  I  am  not  jealous  of  you ; 
I  feel  a  comfortable  persuasion,  that  the  Lord 
has  taken  a  fast  hold  of  your  heart,  and  given 
you  a  fast  hold  of  his  almighty  arm ;  yet  I 
believe  you  will  not  be  displeased  with  me 
for  dropping  a  hint  of  this  kind,  and  at  this 
time. 

You  have  heard  of  the  trial  with  which  the 
Lord  has  been  pleased  to  visit  us:  it  still  con- 
tinues, thousrh  considerably  alleviated.  It  is 
tempered  with  many  mercies,  and  I  hope  he 
disposes  us  in  a  measure  to  submission.  I 
trust  it  will  be  for  good.  My  dear  friend,  you 
are  now  coming  into  my  school,  where  you 
will  learn,  as  occasions  offer,  to  feel  more  in 
the  person  of  another  than  in  your  owm.  But 
be  not  discouraged,  the  Lord  only  afflicts  for 
our  good.  It  is  necessary  that  our  sharpest 
trials  should  sometunes  spring  from  our  dear- 
est comforts,  else  we  should  be  in  danger  of 
forgetting  ourselves,  and  setting  up  our  rest 
liere.  In  such  a  world,  and  with  such  hearts 
as  we  have,  we  shall  often  need  something  to 
prevent  our  cleaving  to  the  dust,  to  quicken 
us  to  prayer,  and  to  make  us  feel  that  our 
dependence  for  one  hour's  peace  is  upon  the 
1/C'rd  alone.  I  am  ready  to  think  I  have 
knosvn  as  much  of  the  gi>od  and  happiness 


[let.  IV. 


which  this  world  can  afford,  as  most  people 
who  live  in  it.     I  never  saw  the  person  with . 
whom  I  wished  to  exchange  in  temporals. 
And  for  many  years  past  I  have  thought  my 
'  trials  have  been  light  and  few,  compared 
j  with  what  many,  or  most  of  the  Lord's  peo- 
ple have  endured.     And  yet,  though  in  the 
;  main  possessed  of  my  own  wishes,  when  I 
i  look  back  upon  the  twenty-seven  years  past, 
1 1  am  ready  to  style  them,  with  Jacob,  few  and 
I  evil ;  and  to  give  the  sum-total  of  their  con- 
I  tents  in  Solomon's  words, — all  is  vanity.    If 
:  I  take  these  years  to  pieces,  I  see  a  great 
I  part  of  them  was  filled  up  with  sin,  sorrows, 
i  and    inquietudes.     The   pleasures    too    are 
i  gone,  and  have  no  more  real  existence  than 
j  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  dream.    The  shadows 
'  of  the  evening  will  soon  begin  to  come  over 
us ;  and  if  our  lives  are  prolonged,  a  thousand 
pains  and  infirmities,  from  which  the  Lord 
has  in  a  remarkable  measure  exempted  us 
hitherto,  will  probably  overtake  us,  and  at 
last  we  must  feel  the  parting  pang.     Sic 
!  transit  gloria  mundi.     Sin  has  so  envenom- 
ed the  soil  of  this  earth,  that  the  amaranth 
will  not  grow  upon  it.     But  we  are  hasting 
to  a  better  world,  and  to  bright  unclouded 
skies,  where  our  sun  will  no  more  go  down» 
and  where  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  our 
eyes. — I  am,  &:c. 


I 


LETTER  rV. 

September  27,  1777. 

MY  DEAR  FRiEXD, — Mr. Called  upon 

us  on  Thursday  evening,  and  from  that  hour 
my    thoughts,    when   awake,   have   seldom 

been   absent  from  .     Few  people  are 

better  qualified  to  feel  for  you,  5'ourself  and 
the  family  excepted ;  perhaps  there  is  no 
person  living  more  nearly  interested  in  what 

concerns  Mrs.  than  myself.     I  could 

not  therefore,  at  such  a  time  as  this,  refrain 
from  writing;  and  glad  should  I  be,  if  the 
Lord  may  help  me  to  drop  a  suitable  word, 
and  accompany  it  with  a  blessing  to  you  in 
the  reading. 

I  am  glad  to  be  assured,  though  I  ex- 
pected no  less,  that  Mrs. happily  feels 

herself  safe  in  the  Lord's  hand,  and  under 
the  care  of  the  Good  Shepherd  and  Saviour, 
to  wiiom  she  has  oflen  committed  herself; 
and  finds  him  faithful  to  his  promise,  giving 
her  strength  in  her  soul  according  to  her  day, 
and  enabling  her  quietly  to  submit  to  his 
holy,  wise,'  and  gracious  will.  And  it  is  my 
prayer,  that  he  may  strengthen  you  likewise, 
and  reveal  his  own  all-sufficiency  so  clearly 
and  powerfully  to  your  heart,  that  you  may 
not  be  afraid  of  any  event,  but  cheerfully 
rely  upon  him,  to  be  all  that  to  you,  in  every  - 
circumstance  and  change,  which  his  promise- 
i  warrants  you  to  expect. 


IV.] 


LKTTKRS  TO  THE  RKV.  MIt  R- 


275 


I  am  willini^  to  hopo,  tliiit  this  is  but  a 
short  soasori  ofuiixit'ty,  apixjinli'il  tor  tho  ox- 
crciso  of  your  faith  ntui  pntit^uro,  iiud  to  ijivo 
you,  ill  his  {jootl  timo,  a  sii^iKil  |)nK)t*  of  his 
power  and  }^oo<hu'ss  in  answrriiii^  prayrr. 
lie  soinetiincs  hrinufs  us  into  such  a  situation 
that  tho  help  of  creatures  is  utterly  unavail- 
infj",  that  we  uiay  at\(»rwar(ls  be  more  clearly 
sensible  of  his  interposition.  Then  wo  ex- 
perimentiilly  learn  t!io  vanity  of  all  thin|»"s 
Iiero  below,  and  are  broutjht  to  a  more  iin- 
modiate  and  absolute  dependonco  u\K)n  him- 
self. We  have  need  of  havinE^  these  lessons 
frequently  inculcated  upon  us;  but  when  his 
end  is  answered,  how  oflen,  atlcr  ho  has 
caused  {rrief,  does  he  show  his  «jreat  com- 
passions, and  save  us  tVom  our  fears  by  an 
outstretched  arm,  and  such  a  seasonable  and 
almost  unexpected  relief,  as  constrains  us  to 
cry  out.  What  has  God  wrought  ?  and  who 
is  a  God  like  unto  thee  ]  Such,  1  hope,  will 
be  the  issue  of  your  present  trial,  and  that 
he  who  gave  her  to  you  at  first  will  restore 
her  to  you  airain.  I  see  you  in  the  furnace ; 
but  the  Lord  is  sitting  by  it  as  a  refiner  of 
silver,  to  moderate  tho  fire,  and  manage  the 
process,  so  that  you  shall  lose  nothing  but 
dross,  and  be  brought  forth  refined  as  gold, 
to  praise  his  name.  Apparent  difficulties, 
liowever  great,  are  nothing  to  him.  Tf  lie 
speaks  it  is  done ;  for  to  God  the  Lord  belong 
the  issues  from  death.  Should  his  pleasure 
be  otherwise,  and  should  he  call  your  dear 
partner  to  a  state  of  glory  before  you,  still  I 
know  he  is  able  to  support  you.  What  he 
does,  however  painful  to  the  flesh,  must  be 
right,  because  he  docs  it  TIaving  bought 
lis  with  his  blood,  and  saved  our  souls  from 
hell,  he  has  every  kind  of  right  to  dispose  of 


us  and  ourH  as  ho  pleaMos;  and  ihirt  wo  nro 
sure  of,  h<>  will  not  l;iy  ho  much  u|K>n  \in  oB 
ho  freely  endured  for  us,  and  he  can  make  ufl 
amtMids  for  all  wo  suffer,  and  for  all  w«'  Iomo, 
by  the  liirlit  of  his  countenance.  A  d'W 
years  will  set  all  to  rights;  anti  they  who 
love  him  and  are  beloved  by  him,  though  thoy 
may  suffer  as  others,  shall  not  sorrow  as 
others,  for  the  Ix)rd  will  bo  with  tlunn  here, 
and  ho  will  scxm  have  them  with  him ;  there 
all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  their  eyes, 

Perliaps  I  know  as  well  how  to  calculate 
tho  pain  of  such  a  separaticju  as  any  one 
who  has  not  actually  experienced  it.  Many 
a  time  the  desire  of  my  eyes  has  been  threat- 
ened, many  a  time  my  heart  has  been  brought 
low ;  but  from  what  I  have  known  at  such 
seasons,  I  have  reason  to  hopo,  that  liad  it 
been  his  pleasure  to  bring  upon  me  tho  thing 
that  I  feared,  his  everlasting  arm  would 
have  upheld  me  from  sinking  under  the 
stroke.  As  ministers,  we  are  called  to  com- 
fort the  Lord's  afflicted  people,  and  to  tell 
them,  the  knowledge  of  his  love  is  a  cordial 
able  to  keep  the  soul  alive  under  the  sharp* 
est  trials.  We  must  not  wonder  that  he 
sometimes  puts  us  in  a  way  of  showing  that 
we  do  not  deal  in  unfelt  truths,  but  tiiat  we 
find  ourselves  that  solid  consolation  in  the 
gospel  which  we  encourage  others  to  expect 
from  it.  You  have  now  such  an  occasion  of 
glorifying  the  Lord,  I  pray  ho  may  enable 
you*  to  improve  it,  and  that  all  around  you 
may  see  that  he  is  with  you,  and  that  his 
good  word  is  the  support  and  anchor  of  your 
soul.  Then  I  am  sure,  if  it  upon  the  whole 
is  best  for  you,  he  will  give  you  the  desire 
of  your  heart,  and  you  shall  yet  live  to  praise 
him  together. — I  am,  &c 


LETTER 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  0- 


April  3,  1759. 
DEAR  SIR, — You  see  t  have  prevented  you 
in  your  promise  of  writing  first ;  and,  having 

found  a  pretext  for  troubling  Mr. ,  I  was 

willing  to  venture  upon  you  without  any,  un- 
less you  will  let  me  plead  a  desire  of  show- 
ing you  how  welcome  your  correspondence 
would  be  to  me.  I  know  not  if  my  heaj-t 
was  ever  more  united  to  any  person,  in  so 
short  a  space  of  time,  than  to  you ;  and  what 
engaged  me  so  much  was,  the  spirit  of  meek- 
ness and  of  love  (that  particular  and  inimita- 
ble mark  of  true  Christianity)  which  I  ob- 
served in  you.  I  mean  it  not  to  your  praise. 
May  all  the  praise  be  to  him,  from  whom 
every  good  and  perfect  gift  cometh,  who 
alone  maketh  the  best  to  differ  from  the 
worst ;  but  I  think  I  may  vrell  mention,  to 
your  encouragement,  that  all  who  conversed 
with  you  greatly  regret  your  speedy  depar- 
ture ;  and  I  am  persuaded  the  same  temper, 
the  same  candour,  will  make  you  accepta- 
ble, honourable,  and  useful,  wherever  you 
go.  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  the  meek, 
the  merciful,  and  the  peace-makers ;  they 
shall  obtain  the  mercy  they  want,  and  possess 
the  peace  they  love.  They  shall  inherit  the 
earth.  The  earth,  sinful  and  miserable  as  it 
is,  shall  be  worthy  to  be  called  an  inheritance 
to  them,  for  they  shall  enjoy  a  comparative 
heaven  in  it.  They  shall  be  called  the  chil- 
dren of  God,  though  dignified  with  no  title 
among  men.  Alas,  how  much  are  these 
overlooked  even  by  many  who,  I  would  hope, 
are  real  believers !  Methinks  a  very  differ- 
ent spirit  from  that  of  the  church  of  Laodicea, 
is  to  be  seen  amongst  us,  though  perhaps  it 
is  not  easy  to  say  which  is  the  best  of  the 
two.  That  was  neither  cold  nor  hot,  this 
(jnirabile  dictu)  is  both  cold  and  hot  at  once, 
and  both  to  the  extreme.  Hot,  hasty,  and 
arbitrary  in  those  few  things  wliere  medio- 
crity is  a  virtue ;  but  cool  and  remiss^  in  those 
great  points,  where  the  application  of  the 
whole  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind,  and  strength, 
is  so  absolutely  necessary,  and  so  positively 
enjoined.  Surely  there  is  too  much  room 
276 


for  this  observation,  and  I  perhaps  stand  self- 
condemned  in  making  it, 

I  hope  you  will  take  opportunity  to  im- 
prove your  interest  in  Mr.  by  letter. 

He  expressed  much  satisfaction  in  the  hour 
he  spent  with  you  before  you  sailed,  and  a 
great  regard  for  you;  therefore  would,  I 
doubt  not,  give  you  a  fair  hearing ;  and  the 
phrase  litera  scripta  manet  is  true  in  more 
senses  than  one.  He  makes  such  large  con- 
cessions sometimes,  that  I  am  apt  to  think 
he  is  conscious  of  the  weakness  of  his  own 
argument ;  and  then  he  is  as  soon  angry  with 
himself  for  complying  so  far,  and  flies  off  to 
the  other  extreme.  Yet,  for  the  most  part, 
when  he  speaks  plain,  and  is  not  restrained 
by  complaisance  for  particular  persons,  he 
appears  not  only  a  stranger  to  experimental 
religion,  but  averse  to  the  notion,  and  gene- 
rally inclined  to  treat  it  with  levity.  His  ob- 
stacles are  very  many  and  very  great;  his 
reputation  as  a  learned  man,  his  years,  his 
regular  life,  and  perhaps,  above  all,  his  per- 
formances in  print,  especially  his  last  book, 
are  so  many  barriers  that  must  be  broke 
through  before  conviction  can  reach  him. 
But  the  grace  of  God  can  do  all  this  and 
more ;  and  indeed,  when  I  think  of  the  many 
truly  valuable  parts  of  his  character,  and  the 
indefatigable  pains  he  has  taken  in  his  re- 
searches after  truth,  I  am  willing  to  hope, 
that  the  Lord  will  at  length  teach  him  the 
true  wisdom,  and  enable  him,  however  hard 
it  may  seem,  to  give  up  his  own  attainments, 
and  sit  down  like  a  little  child  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus. 

I  hope  to  hear  soon  and  often  from  you.  I 
number  my  christian  correspondents  among 
my  principal  blessings,  a  few  judicious  pious 
friends,  to  whom,  when  I  can  get  leisure  to 
write,  I  send  my  heart  by  turns.  I  can  trust 
them  with  my  inmost  sentiments,  and  can 
write  with  no  more  disguise  than  I  think.  I 
shall  rejoice  to  add  you  to  the  number,  if  you 
can  agree  to  take  me  as  I  am,  as  I  think  you 
will,  and  suffer  me  to  commit  my  whole  self 
to  paper,  wjtJiout  respect  to  names,  parties, 


IJrrTER  TO  THE  REV.  MIL  O- 


277 


and  soiitimonts.  I  cndtMivoiir  to  observe  my 
lionl's  c'oiniiifuuls,  to  call  no  mim  master 
ii[K)H  earth;  yt't  I  desire  to  own  and  honour 
the  imatjeot' (iiKJ  wherever  1  find  it.  1  dare 
not  s;iy  I  have  no  l)iLn)try,  for  I  know  !iot 
myselt ;  and  remtMnber,  to  my  shame,  that 
formerly,  when  I  ii,niorantly  professed  my- 
self'tree  from  it,  I  was  indeed  over-run  with 
It ;  but  this  I  can  say,  I  allow  it  not :  I  strive 
and  prav  ai^ainst  it ;  and  thus  tar,  by  the 
ffuxcc  ot'Citxi,  I  have  attained,  that  I  lind  my 
heart  as  much  united  to  many  who  differ 
from  me  in  some  jv)ints,  as  to  any  wlio  agree 
with  me  in  all.  I  set  no  value  upon  any 
doctrinal  truth,  farther  than  it  has  a  tendency 
to  promote  practical  holiness.  If  others 
should  think  those  thinnfs  liinderancos  which 
I  judcro  to  be  helps  in  this  respect,  I  am  con- 
tent they  should  tro  on  in  their  own  way,  ac- 
cording to  the  lisrht  God  has  given  them, 
provided  they  will  agree  with  me  tv-Tuurr*. 
»»>»!'.  If  it  should  be  asked,  which  are  the 
necessary  things  !  I  answer,  Those  in  which 
the  spiritual  worshippers  of  all  ages  and 
countries  have  been  agreed.  Those,  on  the 
contrary,  arc  mere  subordinate  matters, "in 
which  the  best  men,  those  who  have  been 
the  most  eminent  for  faith,  prayer,  humility, 
and  nearness  to  God,  always  have  been,  and 
still  are,  divided  in  their  judgments.  Upon 
this  plan  I  should  think  it  no  hard  matter  to 
draw  up  a  form  of  sound  words  (whether 
dignified  with  the  name  of  a  creed  or  no,  I 
care  not,)  to  which  true  believers  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes  would  unanimously  subscribe. 
Suppose  it  ran  something  in  the  following 
manner : — I  believe  that  sin  is  the  most  hate- 
ful thing  in  the  world ;  that  I  and  all  men 
we  by  nature  in  a  state  of  wrath  and  depra- 


vity, utterly  unahh"  to  mistain  the  |>enfilty 
or  to  I'ultil  till'  commands  <)l'(i(nrrt  Imly  law; 
and  that  we  havi;  no  sullieicncy  oC ourselves 
to  think  a  good  thought.  I  believe  that  JeHiis 
Christ  is  the  chief  among  ten  fhoiisjinds;  that 
he  came  into  the  world  to  anvr.  the  chief  of 
sinners,  by  making  a  propitiation  li^r  sin  by 
his  death,  by  paying  a  perfect  obedience  to 
the  law  in  our  behalf;  and  that  he  is  now 
exalted  on  high,  to  give  repentance  and  re- 
mission of  sins  to  all  that  believe;  and  that 
he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  us. 
I  believe  that  the  Holy  Spirit  (the  gill  of 
God  through  Jesus  Christ)  is  the  sure  and 
only  guide  into  all  truth,  and  the  common 
privilege  of  all  believers;  and  under  his  in- 
fluence, I  believe  the  holy  scriptures  are  able 
to  make  us  wise  unto  salvation,  and  to  fur- 
nish us  thoroughly  for  every  good  work.  I 
believe  tiiat  love  to  God,  and  to  man,  for 
God's  sake,  is  the  essence  of  religion,  and 
the  fulfilling  of  the  law  ;  that  without  holi- 
ness no  man  shall  see  the  Lord ;  that  those 
who,  by  a  patient  course  in  well-doing,  seek 
glory,  honour,  and  immortality,  shall  receive 
eternal  life  ;  and  I  believe  that  this  reward 
is  not  of  debt,  but  of  grace,  even  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  that  grace  whereby  he  has  made 
us  accepted  in  the  Beloved.     Amen. 

I  pretend  not  to  accuracy  in  this  liasty 
draught;  they  are  only  outlines,  which,  if 
you  please  to  retouch,  and  fill  up  at  your  lei- 
sure, I  hope  you  will  favour  me  with  a  sight 
of  it  I  fear  I  have  tired  you,  and  shall  only 
add  my  prayers,  that  the  Lord  may  be  with 
you,  and  crown  your  labours  of  love  with 
success,  that  you  may  hereafter  shine  among 
those  wlio  have  been  instrumental  in  turning 
many  to  righteousness. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  P- 


LETTER  L 

DEAR  SIR, — The  account  which  I  received 

by  Mr.  C ,  and  by  the  letter  wliich  he 

brought  from  you,  of  your  welfare  and  the 
welfare  of  your  people,  was  very  pleasing-, 
though  indeed  no  more  than  I  expected.  I  be- 
lieved, from  the  first  of  your  going  to  S , 

that  you  would  like  the  people,  r.nd  I  be- 
lieved the  Lord  had  given  you  that  irume  of 
spirit  which  he  has  promised  to  bleis.  What 
reason  have  we  to  praise  him  for  the  know- 
ledge of  his  gospel,  and  for  the  honour  of  be- 
ing called  to  preach  it  to  others  !  and  like- 
wise that  he  has  been  pleased  to  cast  your 
lot  and  mine  amongst  a  people  who  value  it, 
and  to  crown  our  poor  labours  with  some 
measure  of  acceptance  and  usefulness.  How 
little  did  we  think,  in  the  unawakened  part 
of  our  life,  to  what  it  was  his  good  pleasure 
to  reserve  us ! 

The  Lord  is  pleased,  in  a  measure,  to  show 
me  the  suitableness  and  necessity  of  an  hum- 
ble dependent  frame  of  heart,  a  ceasing  from 
self,  and  a  reliance  upon  him  in  the  due  use 
of  appointed  means ;  I  am  far  from  having 
attained,  but  I  hope  I  am  pressing,  at  least 
seeking  after  it.  I  wish  to  speak  the  word 
simply  and  experimentally,  and  to  be  so  en- 
gaged with  the  importance  of  the  subject, 
the  worth  of  souls,  and  the  thought  that  I  am 
speaking  in  the  name  and  presence  of  the 
Most  High  God,  as  that  I  might,  if  possible, 
forget  every  thing  else.  This  would  be  an 
attainment  indeed  !  More  good  might  be 
expected  from  a  broken  discourse,  delivered 
in  such  a  frame,  than  from  the  most  advan- 
tageous display  of  knowledge  and  gifts  with- 
out it.  Not  that  I  would  undervalue  pro- 
priety and  pertinence  of  expression  ;  it  is  our 
duty  to  study  to  find  out  acceptable  words, 
and  to  endeavour  to  appear  as  workmen  that 
need  not  be  ashamed ;  but  those  who  have 
most  ability  in  this  way,  have  need  of  a  dou- 
ble guard  of  grace  and  wisdom,  lest  they  be  i 
278 


tempted  to  trust  in  it,  or  to  value  themselves 
upon  it.  They  that  trust  in  the  Lord  shall 
never  be  moved ;  and  they  that  abase  them- 
selves before  him,  he  will  exalt.  I  am  well 
persuaded  that  your  conduct  and  views  have 
been  agreeable  to  these  sentiments ;  and 
therefore  the  Lord  has  supported,  encou- 
raged, and  owned  you  ;  and  I  trust  he  will  still 
bless  you,  and  make  you  a  blessing  to  many. 
He  that  walketh  humbly  walketh  surely. — 
Believe  me  to  be,  &c. 


LETTER  IL 

August  14,  1770. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  did  rne  good 
when  I  received  it,  at  least  gave  me  much 
pleasure;  and  I  think  it  has  given  rne  a  lift 
while  I  have  been  just  now  reading  it.  I 
know  not  that  I  ever  had  those  awful  views 
of  sin  which  you  speak  of;  and  though  I  be- 
lieve I  should  be  better  for  them,  I  dare  not 
seriously  wish  for  them.  There  is  a  petition 
which  I  have  heard  in  public  prayer,  "  Lord, 
show  us  the  evil  of  our  hearts."  To  this 
petition  I  cannot  venture  to  set  my  Amen, 
at  least  not  without  a  qualification.  Show 
me  enough  of  thyself  to  balance  the  view, 
and  then  show  me  what  thou  pleasest.  I 
think  I  have  a  very  clear  and  strong  con- 
viction in  my  judgment,  that  I  am  vile  and 
worthless,  that  my  heart  is  full  of  evil,  only 
evil,  and  that  continually  I  know  some- 
thing of  it  too  experimentally ;  and  therefore, 
judging  of  the  whole  by  the  sample,  though 
I  am  not.  suitably  aflfected  with  what  I  do 
see,  I  tremble  at  the  thought  of  seeing  more. 
A  man  may  look  with  some  pleasure  upon 
the  sea  in  a  storm,  provided  he  stands  safe 
upon  the  land  himself;  but  to  be  upon  the 
sea  in  a  storm,  is  quite  another  thing.  And 
yet  surely  the  coldness,  worldliness,  pride, 
and  twenty  other  evils  under  which  1  groan. 


•LKT.  III. 


LETTKllS  TO  TIIK  IIKV.  l\IIt  P- 


270 


owe  much  of  thoir  stronjjth  to  Iho  want  of 
that  fo(*lin<j  8ens««  of  my  own  Jibomiiialions 
with  which  you  hiivo  ht-cn  fuvourod  : — 1  say 
favourotl ;  for  1  douht  not  hut  tho  liord  pavo 
it  you  in  mercy,  uml  that  it  has  j)rovtul,  ami 
will  prove,  a  mercy  to  you,  to  make  you 
more  humble,  spiritual,  and  dei)endont,  as 
well  as  to  increase  your  ability  tor  preaching 
the  y^ospel  of  his  (jrace.  V\x.m  these  accoufits, 
I  can  assure  you,  that  u|H)n  a  first  reading'', 
and  till  I  stopped  a  moment  to  count  the 
cost,  1  was  ready  to  envy  you  all  that  you 
had  felt.  I  often  seem  to  know  what  the 
scriptures  teach,  both  of  sin  and  fji'race,  as 
if  I  knew  them  not;  so  faint  and  lanjj^uid  are 
my  perceptions,  I  often  seem  to  think  and 
talk  of  sin  without  any  sorrow,  and  of  grace 
without  any  joy. 

I  have  had  some  people  awakened  by  dreams 
as  you  had  by  streamers;  but,  for  ought  I 
know,  we  are  no  less  instrumental  to  the  good 
of  these,  than  to  any  other  person,  upon  whom, 
when  we  look,  our  hearts  are  ready  to  exult 
and  say,  See  what  the  Lord  has  done  by  me. 
I  do  not  think  that,  strictly  speaking,  all  the 
streamers  of  the  north  are  able  to  awaken  a 
dead  sou).  I  suppose  people  may  be  terrified 
by  them,  and  made  thoughtful,  but  awakened 
•only  by  tiie  word.  The  streamers  either  sent 
them  to  hear  the  gospel,  or  rousea  them  to 
attend  to  it ;  but  it  was  the  knowledge  of  the 
trutJi  brought  home  to  the  heart,  that  did  tiie 
business.  Perhaps  the  streamers  reminded 
them  of  what  they  had  heard  from  you  before. 
Two  persons  here,  who  lived  like  heathens, 
and  never  came  to  church,  were  alarmed  by 
some  terrifying  dreams,  and  came  out  to  iiear- 
ing  forthwith.  There  the  Lord  was  pleased 
to  meet  with  them.  One  of  them  died  tri- 
umphing; the  other,  I  hope,  will  do  so  when 
her  time  comes.  Whatever  means,  instru- 
ments, or  occasions  he  is  pleased  to  employ, 
the  work  is  all  his  own ;  and  I  trust  you  and 
I  are  made  willing  to  give  him  all  the  glory, 
and  to  sink  into  the  dust  at  the  thought  that 
he  should  ever  permit  us  to  take  his  holy 
.name  in  our  polluted  lips. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IIL 

June  13,  1772. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — You  say  that  your  experi- 
ence agrees  with  mine.  It  must  be  so,  be- 
cause our  hearts  are  alike.  The  heart  is 
deceitful  and  desperately  wicked,  destitute 
of  good,  and  prone  to  evil.  This  is  the  cha- 
racter of  mankind  universally,  and  those  who 
.are  made  partakers  of  grace  are  renewed 
but  in  part;  the  evil  nature  still  cleaves  to 
^them,  and  the  root  of  sin,  though  mortified, 
is  far  from  being  dead.  While  the  cause 
remains  it  will  have  its  elfectsT  and  wiiile  we 
4u:e  burdened  witli  the  body  of  this  death,  we 


must  groan  under  it.  But  we  need  not  bo 
swallowed  up  with  overmuch  sorrow,  Hinco 
we  have  in  Jesus,  a  Saviour,  a  righteouHnesn, 
an  advocate,  a  shepherd.  "He  knowH  oiir 
frame,  and  rem(Mnb(?rs  that  we  are  but  dust." 
If  sin  abounds  in  us,  grace  aliounds  much 
more  in  him;  nor  would  he  suffer  sin  to  re- 
main in  his  people,  if  he  did  not  know  how 
to  over-rule  it,  and  make  it  an  occasion  of 
endearing  his  love  and  grace  so  much  the 
more  to  their  souls.  The  I/jrd  forbid  that 
we  should  plead  his  goodness  as  an  encour- 
agement to  sloth  and  indifference.  Humilia- 
tion, gcxlly  sorrow,  and  self-abasement  be- 
come us ;  but  at  the  same  time,  we  may 
rejoice  in  the  Lord.  Though  sin  remains,  it 
shall  not  have  dominion  over  us;  though  it 
wars  in  us,  it  shall  not  prevail  against  us. 
We  have  a  mercy-seat  sprinkled  with  bkxxJ, 
we  have  an  advocate  with  tiic  Father,  we 
are  called  to  this  warfare,  and  we  fight  un- 
der the  eye  of  the  captain  of  our  salvation, 
who  is  always  near  to  renew  our  strength, 
to  heal  our  wounds,  and  to  cover  our  heads 
in  the  heat  of  battle.  As  ministers,  we 
preach  to  those  who  have  like  passions  and 
infirmities  with  ourselves,  and  by  our  own 
feelings,  fears,  and  changes,  we  learn  to 
speak  a  word  in  season  to  them  that  are 
weary,  to  warn  those  who  stand,  and  to 
stretch  out  a  hand  of  compassion  towards 
them  that  are  fallen ;  and  to  commend  it  to 
others,  from  our  own  experience,  as  a  faith- 
ful saying,  that  Jesus  came  to  save  the  chief 
of  sinners.  Besides,  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  to 
give  us  some  liberty,  acceptance,  and  success 
in  preaching  the  gospel,  we  should  be  in  great 
danger  of  running  mad  with  spiritual  pride, 
if  the  Lord  did  not  permit  us  to  feel  the  de- 
pravity and  vileness  of  our  hearts,  and  there- 
by keep  us  from  forgetting  what  we  are  in 
ourselves. 

With  regard  to  your  young  people,  you 
must  expect  to  meet  with  some  disappoint- 
ment. Perhaps  not  every  one  of  whom  you 
have  conceived  hopes  will  stand,  and  some 
who  do  belong  to  the  Lord  are  permitted  to 
make  sad  mistakes  for  their  future  humilia- 
tion. It  is  our  part  to  watch,  warn,  and  ad- 
monish, and  we  ought  likewise  to  be  concern- 
ed for  those  slips  and  miscarriages  which  we 
cannot  prevent.  A  minister,  if  faithful,  and 
of  a  right  spirit,  can  have  no  greater  joy  than 
to  see  his  people  walking  honourably  and 
steadily  in  the  truth ;  and  hardly  any  thmg 
will  give  him  more  sensible  grief,  than  to  see 
any  of  them  taken  in  Satan's  wiles.  Yet  still 
the  gospel  brings  relief  here.  He  is  wiser 
than  we  are,  and  knows  how  to  make  those 
things  subservient  to  promote  his  work, 
which  we  ought  to  guard  against  as  evils 
and  hinderances.  We  are  to  use  the  means. 
He  is  to  rule  the  whole.  If  the  faults  of 
some  are  made  warnings  to  others,  and  prove 
in  the  end  occasions  of  illustrating  the  riches 


290 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  P- 


of  divine  grace,  this  should  reconcile  us  to 
what  WG  cannot  help,  though  such  consi- 
derations should  not  slacken  our  diligence 
in  sounding  an  alarm,  and  reminding  our 
hearers  of  their  continual  danger. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

Jan.  26,  1775, 
DEAR  SIR, — I  lately  read  in  the  fifth  vo- 
lume of  the  Morning  Exercises,  a  sermon  of 
Mr.  Baxter's,  on  Matt.  v.  1(5.  My  mind  is 
something  impressed  with  the  subject,  and 
with  his  manner  of  treating  it.  Some  of  Mr. 
Baxter's  sentiments  in  divinity  are  rather 
cloudy,  and  he  sometimes,  upon  that  account, 
met  with  but  poor  quarter  from  the  staunch 
Calvin ists  of  his  day.  But,  by  v/hat  I  have 
read  of  him,  where  he  is  quiet  and  not  ruffled 
by  controversy,  he  appears  to  me,  notwith- 
standing some  mistakes,  to  have  been  one  of 
the  greatest  men  of  his  age,  and  perhaps  in 
fervour,  spirituality,  and  success,  more  than 
equal,  both  as  a  minister  and  a  christian,  to 
some  twenty  taken  together,  of  those  who 
affect  to  undervalue  him  in  this  present  day. 
There  is  a  spirit  in  some  passages  of  his 
*'  Saints  Rest,"  his  "  Dying  Thoughts,"  and 
other  of  his  practical  treatises,  compared  with 
which,  many  modern  compositions,  though 
well  written  and  well  meant,  appear  to  me 
to  great  disadvantage.  But  I  was  speaking 
of  his  sermon.  He  points  out  the  way  at 
whicli  we  should  aim  to  let  our  light  shine 
in  the  world,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
conviction  and  edification  of  men.  I  have 
mentioned  where  it  is  to  be  found,  that,  if 
you  have  the  Morning  Exercises,  or  if  they 
should  come  in  your  way,  you  may  look  at 
it.  I  think  you  would  like  it.  The  perusal 
suggested  to  me  some  instruction,  and 
much  reproof  Alas!  my  friend,  are  we 
not  too  often  chargeable  with  a  sad,  shame- 
ful selfishness  and  narrowness  of  spirit,  far, 
■very  far  different  from  that  activity,  en- 
largement, and  generosity  of  soul,  which 
such  a  gospel  as  we  have  received  might 
be  expected  to  produce )  For  myself,  I 
must  plead  guilty.  It  seems  as  if  my  heart 
was  always  awake,  and  keenly  sensible 
to  my  own  concernments,  while  those  of 
my  Lord  and  Master  affect  me  much  less 
forcibly,  at  least  only  by  intervals.  Were  a 
stranger  to  judge  of  me  by  what  I  sometimes 
say  in  the  pulpit,  he  might  think  that,  like 
the  angels,  I  had  but  two  things  in  view — 
to  do  the  will  of  God,  and  to  behold  his 
face.     But,  alas!  would  he  not  be  almost  as 

much  mistaken,  as  if,  seeing  Mr.  G in 

the  character  of  a  tragedy-hero,  he  should 
suppose  him  to  be  the  very  person  whom  he 
only  represents  J  I  hope  Satan  will  never  be 
&ble  to  persuade  me  that  I  am  a  mere  hypo- 


[let.  V, 

crite  and  stage-player ;  but  sure  I  am,  that 
there  is  so  much  hypocrisy  in  me,  so  many 
littlenesses  and  self-seckings  insinuating  into 
my  plan  of  conduct,  that  I  have  humbhnt^ 
cause  to  account  myself  unworthy  and  un- 
profitable, and  to  say,  "  Enter  not  into  judg- 
ment with  thy  servant,  O  Lord."  I  have 
some  tolerable  idea  of  wliat  a  christian  ought 
to  be,  and  it  is,  I  hope,  what  I  desire  to  be. 
A  cliristian  should  be  conformable  to  Christ 
in  his  spirit  and  in  his  practice  ;  that  is,  he-j 
should  be  spiritually  minded,  dead  to  the] 
world,  filled  with  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God, 
the  spread  of  the  gospel,  and  the  good  of 
souls.  He  should  be  liumble.  patient,  meek, 
cheerful,  thankful  under  all  events  and" 
changes.  He  should  account  it  the  business! 
and  honour  of  his  life  to  imitate  him,  who| 
pleased  not  himself,  who  went  about  doing 
good,  and  has  expressed  to  us  the  very  feel- 
ings of  his  heart,  in  that  divine  aphorism, 
which  surpasses  all  the  fine  admirable  say- 
ings of  the  philosophers,  as  much  as  the  sun 
outshines  a  candle,  "It  is  more  blessed  to" 
give  than  to  receive."  The  whole  deport- 
ment of  a  christian  should  show  that  the 
knowledge  of  Jesus,  which  he  has  received 
from  the  gospel,  aflbrds  him  all  he  could  ex-' 
pcct  from  it, — a  balm  for  every  grief,  an 
amends  for  every  loss,  a  motive  for  every 
duty,  a  restraint  from  every  evil,  a  pattern 
for  every  thing  which  he  is  called  to  do  or  I 
suffer,  and  a  principle  sufficient  to  constitute 
the  actions  of  every  day,  even  in  common 
life,  acts  of  religion.  He  should  (as  the 
children  of  this  world  are  wise  to  do  in  their' 
generation)  make  every  occurrence  through 
which  he  passes  subservient  and  subordinate 
to  his  main  design.  Gold  is  the  worldly 
man's  god,  and  his  worship  and  service  are 
uniform  and  consistent,-  and  consist,  not  by 
fits  and  starts,  but  from  morning  to  night, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  year, 
he  is  the  same  man.  He  will  not  slip  an 
opportunity  of  adding  to  his  pelf  to-day,  be- 
cause he  may  have  another  to-morrow,  but 
he  heartily  and  eagerly  embraces  both ;  and 
so  far  as  he  carries  his  point,  though  his  per- 
severance may  expose  him  to  the  ridicule  or 
reproach  of  his  neighbours,  he  thinks  himself 
well  paid,  and  says, 

Populus  me  sibilat ;  at  mihi  plaudo 

Ipse  domi,  simul  nummus  contemplor  in  acra 

I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

Jan.  —  1776. 

PEAR  SIR, — I  may  learn,  only  I  am  a  sad 

dunce,  by  small  and  common  incidents,  as 

well  as  by  some  more  striking  and  important 

turns  in  life,  that  it  is  not  in  man  that  walk- 


LIT.  TI.] 


LKTTEUS  TO  TIIK  fU:V.  MR.  V- 


281 


eth  to  direct  liis  steps.  It  in  not  for  mc  to 
gay,  ToHJay  <ir  to-morrow  I  will  do  this  or 
that.  I  cuunol  writ»»  ii  Irttcr  to  n  friond 
witliout  leave  or  williotit  help,  for  tieitlior 
opportunity  nor  nbility  are  at  my  own  dispo- 
sal. It  is  not  neiulfui  that  tlio  l/)rd  should 
I  raise  a  mountain  in  my  way  to  stop  luy  pur- 
pose ;  if  he  only  willulraw  a  certain  kind  of 
I  imperceptible  sui)port,  which  in  ufeneral  I 
;  have,  and  use  without  duly  considering 
whose  it  is,  then,  in  a  moment,  I  feel  myself 
unstrnnjT  and  disabled,  like  a  ship  that  has 
lost  iier  masts,  and  cannot  proceed  till  he  is 
pleased  to  refit  me  and  renew  my  strenfrtii. 
My  pride  and  propensity  to  self-dependence 
render  frequent  clianires  of  this  kind  neces- 
Bary  to  me,  or  I  should  soon  forget  what  I 
am,  and  sacritice  to  my  own  drag.  There- 
fore, upon  tiie  whole,  I  am  satisfied,  and  see 
it  best,  that  I  should  be  absolutely  poor  and 
penny  less  in  myself,  and  forced  to  depend 
upon  the  Lord  for  the  smallest  things  as  well 
as  the  greatest.  And  if,  by  liis  blessing,  my 
experience  should  at  length  tally  with  my 
judgment  in  this  point,  that  without  iiim  I 
can  do  nothing,  then  I  know  I  Shall  find  it 
easy,  through  him,  to  do  all  things,  for  the 
door  of  his  mercy  is  always  open,  and  it  is 
but  ask  and  have.  But  alas  I  a  secret  per- 
suasion (though  contrary  to  repeated  convic- 
tions) that  I  have  something  at  home,  too 
otlen  prevents  me  from  going  to  him  for  it, 
and  then  no  wonder  I  am  disappointed.  The 
life  of  faith  seems  so  simple  and  easy  in 
tlieory,  that  I  can  point  it  out  to  others  in 
few  words ;  but  in  practice  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult, and  my  advances  are  so  slow  that  I 
hardly  dare  say  1  get  forward  at  all.  It  is  a 
great  thing  indeed  to  have  the  spirit  of  a 
little  child,  so  as  to  be  habitually  afraid  of 
taking  a  single  step  without  leading. 

I  have  heard  of  you  more  than  once  since 
I  heard  from  you,  and  am  glad  to  know  the 
Lord  is  still  with  you;  I  trust  he  has  not 
withdrawn  wholly  from  us.  We  have  much 
call  for  thankfulness  and  much  for  humilia- 
tion. Some  have  been  removed,  some  are 
evidently  ripening  for  glory,  and  now  and 
then  we  have  a  new  inquirer.  But  the  pro- 
gress of  wickedness  amongst  the  unconverted 
here  is  awful.  Convictions,  repeatedly  sti- 
fled in  many,  have  issued  in  a  hardiness  and 
boldness  in  sinning  which  I  believe  is  seldom 
found  but  in  those  places  where  the  light  of 
the  gospel  has  been  long  resisted  and  abused. 
If  my  eyes  suitably  affected  my  heart,  I 
ehould  weep  day  and  night  upon  this  ac- 
count, but  alas !  I  am  too  indifferent.  I  feel 
a  woful  defect  in  my  zeal  for  God  and  com- 
passion for  souls ;  and  when  Satan  and  con- 
science charge  me  with  cowardice,  treachery, 
and  stupidity,  I  know  not  what  to  reply.  I 
am  generally  carried  through  my  public 
work  with  some  liberty ;  and,  because  I  am 
not  put  to  shame  before  the  people,  I  seem 
2  N 


content  and  Rntisfied.  I  wish  to  ho  more 
thankful  for  what  the  I/ird  is  pleriHod  to  do 
amongst  us,  but,  at  the  .same  lime,  to  be  more 
earnest  with  him  for  a  further  out-|K)urmjj 
of  his  Spirit.  Assist  mc  herein  with  your 
prayers. 

As  to  my  own  private  experience,  the  ene- 
my is  not  suffered  to  touch  the  foundation  of 
my  faith  and  hope:  thus  far  I  have  |)eace. 
But  my  conflicts  and  exercises  with  the  ef- 
fects of  indwelling  sin  are  very  distressing. 
I  cannot  doubt  of  my  state  and  acceptance, 
and  yet  it  seems  no  one  can  have  more  cause 
lor  doubts  and  fears  than  myself,  if  such 
doublings  were  at  all  encouraged  by  the 
gospel:  but  I  see  they  are  not;  I  see  tliat 
what  I  want  and  hope  ibr,  the  Lord  promises 
to  do,  for  his  own  name's  sake,  and  with  a 
non  obstante  to  all  my  vileness  and  perver- 
sion ;  and  I  cannot  question  but  he  has  given 
me  (for  how  else  could  I  have  it  f)  a  thirst 
for  that  communion  with  him,  in  love  and 
conformity  to  his  image,  of  which,  as  yet,  I 
have  experienced  but  very  faint  and  imper- 
fect bogmnings.  But  if  he  has  begun,  I  ven- 
ture, upon  his  word,  that  he  will  not  forsake 
the  work  of  his  own  hands. 

On  public  aflairs  I  say  but  little.  Many 
are  censurinij  men  and  measures,  but  I  would 
lay  all  the  blame  upon  siri.  It  appears  plain 
to  me  that  the  Lord  has  a  controversy  with 
us,  and  therefore  I  fear  what  we  have  yet 
seen  is  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  I  am 
ready  to  dread  the  event  of  this  summer ;  but 
I  remember  the  Lord  reigns.  He  has  his 
own  glory  and  the  good  of  his  church  in  view, 
and  will  not  be  disappointed.  He  knows  how 
likewise  to  take  care  of  those  who  fear  him. 
I  wish  there  was  more  sighing  and  mourning 
amongst  professors,  for  the  sins  of  the  nation 
and  the  churches.  But  I  must  conclude,  and 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  VL 

DEAR  SIR, — No  very  considerable  altera- 
tion has  taken  place  since  I  wrote,  except 

the  death  of  Mrs.  L ,  who  was  removed 

to  a  better  world  in  September  last.  The 
latter  part  of  her  course  was  very  painful , 
but  the  Lord  made  her  more  than  conqueror, 
and  she  had  good  cause  to  apply  the  apos- 
tle's words,  2  Tim.  iv.  7,  8.  She  repeated 
that  passage  in  her  last  illness,  and  chose  it 
for  her  funeral  text.  She  was  a  christian  in- 
deed. Her  faith  was  great,  and  so  were  her 
trials.  Now  she  «s  above  them  all,  now  she  is 
before  the  throne.  The  good  Lord  help  us  to 
be  foll'~'^rs  of  those  who,  through  faith  and 
patience,  have  attained  to  the  hope  set  before 
them. 

The  number  of  professors  still  increase 
with  us,  and  a  greater  number  of  persons  af- 
fords a  greater  variety  of  cases,  and  give» 


282 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  P- 


[let. 


greater  scope  to  observe  the  working's  of  the 
heart  and  Satan.  For  seven  years  I  liad  to 
say,  that  I  had  not  seen  a  person  of  whom  I 
had  conceived  a  ffood  hope  go  back,  but  I 
have  met  with  a  few  disappointments  since. 
However,  upon  the  whole,  I  trust  the  Ijord 
is  still  with  us.  The  enemy  tries  to  disturb 
and.  defile  us,  and  if  the  Lord  did  not  keep 
the  city,  the  poor  watchmen  would  walk  in 
vain.  But  the  eye  that  never  slumbereth 
nor  sleepeth  has  been  upon  us  for  g'ood ;  and, 
though  we  have  cause  of  humiliation  and 
complaint,  we  have  likewise  much  cause  of 
thankfulness.  My  health  is  still  preserved; 
and  I  hope  that  the  Lord  does  not  suffer  my 
desires  of  personal  communion  with  him,  and 
of  usefulness  in  the  ministry,  to  decline.  He 
supplies  me  with  fresh  strength  and  matter 
in  my  public  work :  I  hear  now  and  then  of 
one  brought  to  enquire  the  way ;  and  his 
presence  is  at  times  made  known  to  many 
in  the  ordinances. 

To  combine  zeal  with  prudence  is  indeed 
difficult.  There  is  oflen  too  much  self  in  our 
zeal,  and  too  much  of  the  fear  of  man  in  our 
prudence.  However,  what  we  cannot  attain 
by  any  skill  or  resolution  of  our  own,  we 
may  hope  in  measure  to  receive  from  him  U'ho 
giveth  liberally  to  those  who  seek  him,  and 
desire  to  serve  him.  Prudence  is  a  word 
much  abused,  but  there  is  a  heavenly  wisdom 
which  the  Lord  has  promised  to  give  to  those 
who  humbly  wait  upon  him  for  it.  It  does 
not  consist  in  forming  a  bundle  of  rules  and 
maxims,  but  in  a  spiritual  taste  and  discern- 
ment, derived  from  an  experimental  know- 
ledge of  the  truth,  and  of  the  heart  of  man 
as  described  in  the  word  of  God ;  and  its  ex- 
ercise consists  much  in  a  simple  dependence 
upon  the  Lord,  to  guide  and  prompt  us  in 
every  action.  We  seldom  act  wrong  when 
we  truly  depend  upon  him,  and  can  cease 
from  leaning  to  our  ow^n  understanding. 
When  the  heart  is  thus  in  a  right  tune  and 
frame,  and  his  word  dwells  richly  in  us, 
there  is  a  kind  of  immediate  perception  of 
what  is  proper  for  us  to  do  in  present  circum- 
stances, without  much  painful  inquiry:  a 
light  shines  before  us  upon  the  path  of  duty  ; 
and,  if  he  permits  us  in  such  a  spirit  to  make 
some  mistakes,  he  will  likewise  teach  us  to 
profit  by  them,  and  our  reflections  upon  what 
was  wrong  one  day  will  make  us  to  act  more 
wisely  the  next.  At  the  best  we  must  al- 
ways expect  to  meet  with  new  proofs  of  our 
own  weakness  and  insufficiency,  otherwise 
how  should  we  be  kept  humble,  or  know 
how  to  prize  the  liberty  he  allows  us  of  com- 
ing to  the  throne  of  grace  for  fresh  forgiveness 
and  direction  every  day?  But  if  he  ena- 
bles us  to  walk  before  him  with  a  single  eye, 
he  will  graciously  accept  our  desire  of  serv- 
ing him  better  if  we  could,  and  his  blessing 
will  make  our  feeble  endeavours  in  some 
degree  successful,  at  the  same  time  that  we 


I 


see  defects  and  evils  attending  our  beat 
services,  sufficient  to  make  us  ashamed  of 
them. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  Vn. 


J 


January  11,  1777. 

DEAR  SIR, — We  all  need,  and  at  the  s^ 
sons  the  Lord  sees  best  we  all  receive  ch 
tisement.  I  hope  you  likewise  have  reason 
to  praise  him,  for  supporting,  sanctifying, 
and  delivering  mercy.  The  coward  flesh 
presently  shrinks  under  the  rod,  but  faith 
need  not  fear  it,  for  it  is  in  the  hand  of  one 
who  loves  us  better  than  we  do  ourselves, 
and  who  knows  our  frame,  that  we  are  but 
dust,  and  therefore  will  not  suffer  us  to  be 
overdone  and  overwhelmed. 

I  feel  as  a  friend  should  feel  for  Mr.  B ; 

were  I  able  I  would  soon  send  him  health. 
If  the  Lord,  who  is  able  to  remove  his  illness 
in  a  minute,  permits  it  to  continue,  we  may- 
be sure,  upon  the  whole,  it  will  be  better  for 
him.  It  is,  however,  very  lawful  to  pray 
that  his  health  may  be  restored  and  his  use- 
fulness prolonged.  I  beg  you  to  give  my 
love  to  him,  and  tell  him  that  my  heart  bears 
him  an  affectionate  remembrance ;  and  I 
know  the  God  whom  he  serves  will  make 
every  dispensation  supportable  and  profitable 
to  him. 

If,  as  you  observe,  the  Song  of  Solomon 
describes  the  experience  of  his  church,  it 
shows  the  dark  as  well  as  the  bright  side. 
No  one  part  of  it  is  the  experience  of  every 
individual  at  any  particular  time.  Some  are 
in  his  banqueting-house,  others  upon  their 
beds.  Some  sit  under  his  banner,  supported 
by  his  arm,  while  others  have  a  faint  per- 
ception of  liim  at  a  distance,  with  many  a 
hill  and  mountain  between.  In  one  thing, 
however,  they  all  agree,  that  he  is  the  lead- 
ing object  of  their  desires,  and  that  they 
have  had  such  a  discovery  of  his  person, 
work,  and  love,  as  makes  him  precious  to 
their  hearts.  Their  judgment  of  him  is  al- 
w^ays  the  same,  but  their  sensibility  varies. 
The  love  they  bear  him,  though  rooted 
and  grounded  in  their  hearts,  is  not  always 
equal  in  exercise,  nor  can  it  be  so.  We  are 
like  trees,  which,  though  alive,  cannot  put 
forth  their  leaves  and  fruit  without  the  influ- 
ence of  the  sun.  They  are  alive  in  winter 
as  well  as  in  summer  ;  but  how  different  is 
their  appearance  in  these  different  seasons ! 
Were  we  always  alike,  could  we  always  be- 
lieve, love,  Emd  rejoice,  we  should  think  the 
power  inherent,  and  our  own  ;  but  it  is  more 
for  the  Lord's  glory,  and  more  suited  to  form 
us  to  a  temper  becoming  the  gospel,  that  we 
should  be  made  deeply  sensible  of  our  own 
inability  and  dependence,  than  that  we  should 
be  always  in  a  lively  frame.     I  am  persuaded 


VII.] 


LETTKRS  TO  THE  RRV.  MR.  P- 


■  rokert  and  a  contrite  spirit,  a  conviction 
vi  our  vilcni'.^  anil  nothiii<,'iu'a.s  connoctod 
with  a  corcliiil  ucct'pUim'f  of  Jesus  ;is  ri'voiilcd 
in  the  ^'ospol,  is  tlu>  lii^Wicst  altiiiiuiuMit  wo 
can  reach  in  this  lite.  Sensihh?  roinforts 
irc  desirable,  and  we  must  be  sadly  declined 
when  tliey  do  not  appear  so  to  us;  but  I  be- 
lieve there  may  be  a  real  exercise  of  faith 
And  growth  in  j^race,  when  our  sensible  feel- 
ings are  faint  and  low.  A  soul  may  be  in 
an  thrivinij  a  state,  when  thirstinnf,  seeking?, 
and  mourninjj  atler  the  Lord,  us  when  actu- 
ally rejoicinjjr  in  him,  as  much  in  earnest 
when  tiiifhtin<»'  in  the  valley  as  wiicn  sinjrinij 
MX>n  the  mount;  nay,  dark  seasons  atibrd 
WpB  surest  and  strongest  manifestations  of 
Hke  power  of  faitL     To  hold  fa^st  the  word 


of  promise,  to  maintain  a  hatred  of  sin,  to  go 

on  Hteadfiustly  in  the  pitli  of  duty,  in  defianco 
both  of  the  frowns  and  tin;  sMiih.'H  of  Iho 
world,  when  we  have  but  lilUt,'  trorufort,  is  a 
more  certain  evidence  of  jyrace  than  a  thou- 
siiud  thinj^s  which  wo  may  do  or  f(jrbcar 
when  our  spirits  are  warm  and  lively.  I 
have  seen  many  who  have  been  up<jn  tho 
whole  but  uneven  walkers,  thouj^h  at  times 
they  seem  to  enjoy,  at  least  havo  talked  of 
^reat  comforts.  I  havo  seen  others,  for  tho 
most  part,  complain  of  much  darkness  and 
coldne.s.s  who  havo  been  remarkably  hum- 
ble, tender,  and  e.xemplary  in  their  spirit 
and  conduct.  Surely,  were  I  to  choose 
my  lot,  it  should  be  WiLi  th^  latter. — I 
am,  &.C 


LETTERS 


TO  MRS.  G- 


LETTER  L 

Jwie  20,  1776. 

MADAM, — It  would  be  both  unkind  and  un- 
g-rateful  in  me,  to  avail  myself  of  any  plea 
of  business,  for  delaying  the  acknowledg- 
inent  I  owe  you  for  your  acceptable  favour 
from ,  which,  though  dated  the  6th  in- 
stant, I  did  not  receive  till  the  10th. 

Could  I  have  known  in  time  that  you  were 

at  Mr. 's,  I  should  have  endeavoured  to 

have  called  upon  you  while  there ;  and  very 
glad  should  I  have  been  to  have  seen  you 
with  us.  But  they  who  fear  the  Lord  may  be 
sure,  that  whatever  is  not  practicable  is  not 
necessary.  He  could  have  over-ruled  every 
difficulty  in  your  way,  had  he  seen  it  expe- 
dient ;  but  he  is  pleased  to  show  you,  that 
you  depend  not  upon  men,  but  upon  himself; 
and  that,  notwithstanding  your  connexions 
may  exclude  you  from  some  advantages  in 
point  of  outward  means,  he  who  has  begun  a 
good  work  in  you,  is  able  to  carry  it  on,  in  de- 
fiance of  all  seeming  hinderances,  and  make 
all  things  Ceven  those  which  have  the  most 
unfavourable  appearances)  work  together  for 
your  good. 

A  sure  effect  of  his  grace,  is  a  desire  and 
longing  for  gospel-ordinances;  and  when 
they  are  afforded,  they  cannot  be  neglected 
without  loss.  But  the  Lord  sees  many  souls 
who  are  dear  to  him,  and  whom  he  is  train- 
ing up  in  a  growing  meetness  for  his  king- 
dom, who  are  by  his  providence  so  situated, 
that  it  is  not  in  their  power  to  attend  upon 
gospel  preaching;  and  perhaps  they  have  sel- 
dom either  christian  minister  or  christian 
friend  to  assist  or  comfort  them.  Such  a 
situation  is  a  state  of  trial ;  but  Jesus  is  all- 
sufficient,  and  he  is  always  near.  They 
cannot  be  debarred  from  his  word  of  grace, 
which  is  every  where  at  hand,  nor  from  his 
throne  of  grace ;  for  they  who  feel  their  need 
of  him,  and  whose  hearts  are  drawn  towards 
him,  are  always  at  the  foot  of  it.  Every 
room  in  the  house,  yea,  every  spot  they  stand 
on,  fields,  lanes,  and  hedge-rows,  all  is  holy 
ground  to  them  ;  for  the  Lord  is  tliere.  The 
chief  difference  between  us,  and  the  disciples 
when  our  Saviour  was  UDon  earth,  is  in  this: 
284 


They  then  walked  by  sight,  and  we  are  called 
to  walk  by  faith.  They  could  see  him  with 
their  bodily  eyes,  we  cannot ;  but  he  said 
before  he  left  them,  "It  is  expedient  for  you 
that  I  go  away."  How  could  this  be,  unless 
that  spiritual  communion  which  he  promised 
to  maintain  with  his  people  after  his  ascension, 
were  preferable  to  that  intercourse  he  al- 
lowed them  whilst  he  was  visibly  with  them  ? 
But  we  are  sure  it  is  preferable,  and  they 
who  had  tried  both  were  well  satisfied  he 
had  made  good  his  promise  ;  so  that  though 
they  had  known  him  after  the  flesh,  they 
were  content  not  to  know  him  so  any  more. 
Yes,  madam,  though  we  cannot  see  him,  he 
sees  us ;  he  is  nearer  to  us  than  we  are  to 
ourselves.  In  a  natural  state,  we  have  very 
dark  and  indeed  dishonourable  thoughts  of 
God:  we  conceive  of  him  as  at  a  distance ; 
but  when  the  heart  is  awakened,  Vve  begin 
to  make  Jacob's  reflection,  "  Surely  the  Lord 
is  in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  not"  And 
when  we  receive  faith,  we  begin  to  know 
that  this  ever  present  God  is  in  Christ :  that 
the  government  of  heaven  and  earth,  the 
dispensations  of  the  kingdom  of  nature,  pro- 
vidence, and  grace,  are  in  the  hands  of  Je- 
sus, that  it  is  he  with  w^hom  we  have  to  do, 
who  once  suffered  agony  and  death  for  our 
redemption,  and  whose  compassion  and  ten- 
derness are  the  same,  now  he  reigns  over  all 
blessed  for  ever,  as  when  he  conversed 
amongst  men  in  the  days  of  his  humiliation. 
Thus  God  is  made  known  to  us  by  the  gos- 
pel, in  the  endearing  views  of  a  Saviour,  a 
Shepherd,  a  Husband,  a  Friend ;  and  a  way 
of  access  is  opened  for  us  through  the  vaU, 
that  is,  the  human  nature,  of  our  Redeemer, 
to  enter,  with  humble  confidence,  into  the 
holiest  of  all,  and  to  repose  all  our  cares 
and  concerns  upon  the  strength  of  that  ever- 
lasting arm  which  upholds  heaven  and  earth, 
and  u|)on  that  infinite  love  which  submit- 
ted to  the  shame,  pain,  and  death  of  the  cross, 
to  redeem  sinners  from  wrath  and  misery. 

Though  there  is  a  height,  a  breadth,  a 
length,  and  a  depth,  in  this  mystery  of  re- 
deeming love,  exceeding  the  comprehension 
of  all  finite  minds;  yet  the  great  and  lead- 
ing principles  which  are  necessary  for  the 


LET.  II.] 


LKTTKIIS  TO  MRS.  G- 


285 


iipport  nnd  comfort  of  our  smiU^  may  be  siim- 
led  lip  in  a  vory  ttnv  words.  Such  a  sum- 
mry  we  are  tiivoured  with  in  Titus  ii.  11  — 
4,  wficre  the  whole  ofsjilvation,  all  that  is 
eoilful  to  Ik^  known,  experienced,  practised, 
nd  hoped  for,  is  comprised  within  the  com- 
ass  of  four  verses.  If  many  books,  much 
tudy,  and  jj^reat  discermnent,  were  neces- 
iry  in  order  to  he  happy,  what  must  the 
DOT  and  simple  do  !  Vet  tor  them  especially 
!  the  <i^i)spel  desi^^ned ;  and  few  but  such  as 
lese  attain  tlu^  knowled<>fe  and  comfort  of 
.  The  JJible  is  a  sealed  book  till  the  heart 
D  awakened,  and  then  lie  that  runs  may 
jad.  The  propositions  arc  few :  I  am  a 
nner,  therefore  I  need  a  Saviour,  one  who 
I  able  and  willing  to  save  to  the  uttermost: 
jch  a  one  is  Jesus;  he  is  all  that  I  want, 
'isdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and 
3demption.  But  will  he  receive  me  ]  Can 
answer  a  previous  question  !  Am  I  will- 
ig  to  receive  him  !  If  so,  and  if  his  word 
lay  be  taken,  if  he  meant  what  he  said,  and 
romised  no  more  than  he  can  perform,  I 
lay  be  sure  of  a  welcome.  He  knew  long 
sfore,  the  doubts,  fears,  and  suspicions, 
liicli  would  arise  in  my  mind,  when  I  should 
)me  to  know  what  I  am,  what  I  have  done, 
id  what  I  have  deserved ;  and  therefore 
B  declared,  before  he  left  the  earth,  "  Him 
lat  Cometh  to  mo,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
it."  I  have  no  money  or  price  in  my  hand, 
D  worthiness  to  recommend  me ;  and  I  need 
3ne,  for  he  saveth  freely  for  his  own  name's 
ike.  I  have  only  to  be  thankful  for  what 
C5  has  already  shown  me,  and  to  wait  upon 
im  for  more.  It  is  my  part  to  commit  my- 
;lf  to  him  as  the  physician  of  sin-sick  souls, 
3t  to  prescribe  to  him  how  he  shall  treat 
le.  To  begin,  carry  on,  and  perfect  the 
jre,  is  his  part. 

The  doubts  and  fears  you  speak  of,  are,  in 
greater  or  less  degree,  the  common  expe- 
ence  of  all  the  Lord's  people,  at  least  for  a 
me.  Whilst  any  unbelief  remains  in  the 
cart,  and  Satan  is  permitted  to  tempt,  we 
lall  feel  these  things.  In  themselves  they 
re  groundless  and  evil ;  yet  the  Lord  per- 
lits  and  over-rules  them  for  good.  They 
md  to  make  us  know  more  of  the  plagues 
'  our  own  hearts,  and  feel  more  sensibly 
le  need  of  a  Saviour,  and  make  his  rest 
,vhen  we  attain  it)  doubly  sweet  and  sure, 
.nd  they  likewise  qualify  us  for  pitying  and 
Dmforting  others.  Fear  not ;  only  believe, 
'^ait,  and  pray.  E.xpect  not  all  at  once.  A 
liristian  is  not  of  hasty  growth,  like  a 
mshroom,  but  rather  like  the  oak,  the  pro- 
ress  of  which  is  hardly  perceptible,  but 
'hich  in  time  becomes  a  great  deep-rooted 
•ee.  If  my  writings  have  been  useful  to 
ou,  may  tlie  Lord  have  the  praise.  To  ad- 
linister  any  comfort  to  his  children  is  the 
reatest  honour  and  pleasure  1  can  receive 
I  this  life.     I  cannot  promise  to  be  a  very 


punctual  correspondent,  having  many  en- 
gagements; but  I  hopir  to  d(j  all  in  my  pow- 
er  to  show  myself,  madam, —  Youra,  ^c. 


LETTER  II. 

AufTust  20,  1770. 

MADAM, — Though  in  general  I  think  my- 
self tolerably  j)unctual  when  I  can  answer  a 
letter  in  six  or  seven  weeks  al'ter  the  re- 
ceipt, yet  I  feel  some  pain  lor  not  having  ac- 
knowledged yours  .sooner.  A  case  like  that 
which  you  have  favoured  me  with  an  ac- 
count of,  deserved  an  immediate  attention, 
and  when  I  read  it,  I  proposed  writing 
within  a  post  or  two,  and  I  can  hardly  al- 
low any  plea  of  business  to  be  a  sufficient 
excuse  for  delaying  it  so  long;  but  our  times 
are  in  the  Lord's  hands.  May  he  now  oia- 
ble  me  to  send  you  what  may  prove  a  word 
in  season. 

Your  exercises  have  been  by  no  meana 
singular,  though  they  may  appear  so  to 
yourself;  because,  in  your  retired  situation, 
you  have  not  (as  you  observe)  had  much  op- 
portunity of  knowing  the  experience  of  other 
christians ;  nor  has  the  guilt  with  which 
your  mind  has  been  so  greatly  burdened  been 
properly  your  own.  It  was  a  temptation 
forced  upon  you  by  the  enemy,  and  he  shall 
answer  for  it.  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  mourn- 
ful proof  of  the  depravity  of  our  nature,  that 
there  is  that  vvithm  us  which  renders  us  so 
easily  susceptive  of  his  suggestions ;  a  proof 
of  our  extreme  weakness,  that  after  the 
clearest  and  most  satisfying  evidences  of  the 
truth,  we  are  not  able  to  hold  fast  our  confi- 
dence, if  the  Lord  permits  Satan  to  sift  and 
shake  us.  But  I  can  assure  you  these 
changes  are  not  uncommon.  I  have  known 
persons,  who,  after  walking  with  God  com- 
fortably in  the  main  for  forty  years,  have 
been  at  their  wits  end  from  such  assaults  as 
you  mention,  and  been  brought  to  doubt, 
not  only  of  the  reality  of  their  own  hopes, 
but  of  the  very  ground  and  foundation  upon 
which  their  hopes  were  built.  Had  you  re- 
mained, as  it  seems  you  once  were,  attached 
to  the  vanities  of  a  gay  and  dissipated  life, 
or  could  you  have  been  content  with  a  form 
of  godliness,  destitute  of  the  power,  it  is 
probable  you  would  have  remained  a  stranger 
to  these  troubles.  Satan  would  have  em- 
ployed his  arts  in  a  different  and  less  per- 
ceptible way,  to  have  soothed  you  into  a 
false  peace,  and  prevented  any  thought  or 
suspicion  of  danger  from  arising  in  your 
mind.  But  wl.en  he  could  no  longer  detain 
you  in  his  bondage,  or  seduce  you  back  again 
into  the  world,  then  of  course  he  would 
change  his  method,  and  declare  open  war 
against  you.  A  specimen  of  his  power  and 
malice  you  have  experienced ;  and  the  Lord 


286 


LETTERS  TO  ISfRS.  G- 


[let.  ir. 


whom  you  loved,  because  he  first  loved  you, 
permitted  it,  not  to  jrratify  Satan,  but  for 
your  benefit — to  humble  and  prove  you,  to 
show  you  what  is  in  your  heart,  and  to  do 
you  good  in  the  issue.  These  things  for  the 
present  are  not  joyous  but  grievous ;  yet,  in 
the  end,  they  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of 
righteousness.  In  the  mean  time  his  eye 
IS  upon  you :  he  has  appointed  bounds  both 
to  the  degree  and  duration  of  the  trial ; 
and  he  does  and  will  afford  you  such  sup- 
ports, that  you  shall  not  be  tried  beyond 
what  you  are  able  to  bear.  I  doubt  not 
but  your  conflicts  and  sorrows,  will,  in  due 
time,  terminate  in  praise  and  victory,  and 
be  sanctified  to  your  fuller  establishment  in 
the  truth. 

I  greatly  rejoice  in  the  Lord's  goodness 
to  your  dying  parent  How  wisely  timed, 
and'  how  exactly  suited,  was  that  affecting 
dispensation,  to  "break  the  force  of  those  sug- 
gestions with  which  the  enemy  was  aiming 
to  overwhelm  your  spirit!  He  could  not 
stand  against  such  an  illustrious  demonstra- 
tive attestation,  that  the  doctrines  you  had 
embraced  were  not  cunningly  devised  fables. 
He  could  proceed  no  farther  in  that  way ; 
but  he  is  fruitful  in  resources.  His  next 
attempt,  of  course,  was  to  fix  guilt  upon  your 
conscience,  as  if  you  had  yourself  formed 
and  willingly  entertained  those  thoughts, 
which,  indeed,  you  suffered  with  extreme 
reluctance  and  pain.  Here  likewise  I  find 
he  succeeded  for  a  time ;  but  he  who  broke 
the  former  snare,  will  deliver  you  from  this 
likewise. 

The  dark  and  dishonourable  thoughts  of 
God,  which  I  hinted  at  as  belonging  to  a 
natural  state,  are  very  different  from  the 
thoughts  of  your  heart  concerning  him.  You 
do  not  conceive  of  him  as  a  hard  master,  or 
think  you  could  be  more  happy  in  the  breach 
than  m  the  observance  of  his  precepts.  You 
do  not  prefer  the  world  to  his  favour,  or  think 
you  can  please  him,  and  make  amends  for 
your  sins,  by  an  obedience  of  your  own. 
These,  and  such  as  these,  are  the  thoughts 
of  the  natural  heart, — the  very  reverse  of 
yours.  One  thought,  however,  I  confess 
you  have  indulged,  which  is  no  less  disho- 
nourable to  the  Lord  than  uncomfortable  to 
yourself.  You  say,  "  I  dare  not  believe  that 
God  will  not  impute  to  me  as  sin,  the  ad- 
mission of  thoughts  which  my  soul  ever  ab- 
horred, and  to  which  my  will  never  consent- 
ed." Nay,  you  fear  lest  they  should  not  only 
be  imputed,  but  unpardonable.  But  how  can 
this  be  possible  I  Indeed,  I  will  not  call  it 
your  thought,  it  is  your  temptation.  You  tell 
me  you  have  children.  Then  you  will  easily 
feel  a  plain  illustration,  which  just  now  oc- 
curs to  me.  Let  me  suppose  a  case  which  has 
sometimes  happened ;  a  child,  three  or  four 
years  of  age  we  wUl  say,  while  playing  incau- 
tiously at  a  little  distance  from  home,  should 


be  suddenly  seized  and  carried  away  by  a 
gipsy.  Poor  thing !  how  terrified,  how  dis- 
tressed must  it  be  I  Methinks  I  hear  its 
cries.  The  sight  and  violence  of  the  stran- 
ger, the  recollection  of  its  dear  parents,  the 
loss  of  its  pleasing  home,  the  dread  and  un- 
certainty of  what  is  yet  to  befal  it.  Is  it  not 
a  wonder  that  it  does  not  die  in  agonies? 
But  see,  help  is  at  hand  !  the  gipsy  is  pur- 
sued, and  the  child  recovered.  Now,  my 
dear  madam,  permit  me  to  ask  you,  if  this 
were  your  child,  how  would  you  receive  it  T 
Perhaps,  when  the  first  transports  of  your 
joy  for  its  safety  would  permit  you,  you 
might  gently  chide  it  for  leaving  your  door. 
But  would  you  disinherit  it  1  Would  you 
disown  it?  Would  you  deliver  it  up  again 
to  the  gipsy  with  your  own  hands,  because 
it  had  suffered  a  violence  which  it  could  not 
withstand,  which  it  abhorred  and  to  which 
!  its  will  never  consented  ]  And  yet  what  is 
the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  of  ten  thousand 
mothers,  to  that  which  our  compassionate 
Saviour  bears  to  every  poor  soul  'that  has 
been  enabled  to  flee  to  him  for  salvation  I 
Let  us  be  far  from  charging  that  to  him,  of 
which  we  think  we  are  utterly  incapable 
ourselves.  Take  courage,  madam ;  resist 
the  devil  and  he  will  flee  from  you.  If  he 
were  to  tempt  you  to  any  thing  criminal, 
you  would  start  at  the  thought,  and  renounce 
it  with  abhorrence.  Do  the  same  when  he 
tempts  you  to  question  the  Lord's  compas- 
sion and  goodness.  But  there  he  imposes 
upon  us  with  a  show  of  humility,  and  per- 
suades us  that  we  do  well  to  oppose  our  un- 
worthiness  as  a  sufficient  exception  to  the 
many  express  promises  of  the  word.  It  is 
said,  the  blood  of  Jesus  cleanseth  from  all 
sin  :  that  all  manner  of  sin  shall  be  forgiven 
for  his  sake;  that  whosoe%-er  cometh  to  him 
he  will  in  no  wise  cast  him  out;  and  that  he 
is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  Believe 
his  word,  and  Satan  shall  be  found  a  liar. 
If  the  child  had  deliberately  gone  away 
with  the  gipsy,  had  preferred  that  wretched 
way  of  life,  and  had  refused  to  return, 
though  frequently  and  tenderly  invited 
home ;  perhaps  a  parent's  love  might,  in 
time,  be  too  weak  to  plead  for  the  pardon  of 
such  continued  obstinacy.  But,  indeed,  in 
this  manner  we  have  all  dealt  with  the 
Lord ;  and  yet,  whenever  we  are  willing  to 
return,  he  is  willing  to  receive  us  with  open 
arms,  and  without  an  upbraiding  word,  Luke 
XV.  20.  22.  Though  our  sins  have  been 
deep-dyed  like  scarlet  and  crimson,  enor- 
mous as  mountains,  and  countless  as  the 
sands,  the  sum  total  is  only  this,  Sin  lias 
abounded :  but  where  sin  has  abounded, 
grace  has  much  more  abounded.  Afler  all, 
I  know  the  Lord  keeps  the  key  of  comtbrt 
in  his  own  hands,  yet  he  has  commanded  ua 
to  attempt  comforting  one  another.  I  should 
rejoice  to  be  his  instrument  of  administering" 


LET.  III. 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  G- 


287 


comfort  to  y(»u.  T  shrill  hopo  to  hear  from 
you  soon  ;  ami  that  you  will  then  bo  able 
to  itifortii  me  Ur  has  restored  to  you  the 
joys  of  his  salvation.  Hut  if  not,  yet  wait 
for  hitn,  and  you  shall  not  wait  in  vain. — I 
am,  &c.  « 


i 


LETTER  III. 

June  —  1777. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Temptations  may  be 
rom|vired  to  the  wind,  which,  when  it  has 
ceased  rairiiiLf  from  one  point,  arter  a  short 
calm,  fre-piently  renews  its  violence  from 
another  quarter.  Tiio  Lord  silenced  Satan's 
former  assaults  against  you,  but  he  is  per- 
mitted to  try  you  again  in  another  way.  Be 
of  good  courage,  madam,  wait  upon  the  Lord 
and  the  present  storm  shall  likewise  subside 
in  good  time.  You  have  an  infallible  pilot, 
and  are  embarked  in  a  bottom  against  which 
the  winds  and  waves  cannot)  prevail.  You 
may  be  tossed  about,  and  think  yourself  in 
apparent  jeopardy;  but  sink  you  shall  not, 
except  the  promises  and  faithfulness  of  God 
can  fail.  Upon  an  attentive  consideration  of 
your  complaint,  it  seems  to  me  to  amount 
only  to  this,  that  though  the  Lord  has  done 
great  things  for  you,  he  has  not  yet  brought 
you  to  a  state  of  independence  on  himself, 
nor  released  you  from  that  impossibility 
which  all  his  people  feel,  of  doing  any  thing 
without  him.  And  is  this  indeed  a  matter 
of  complaint  1  Is  it  not  every  w^ay  better, 
more  for  his  glory,  and  more  suited  to  keep 
us  mindful  of  our  obligations  to  him,  and  in 
the  event,  more  for  our  safety,  that  we  should 
be  reduced  to  a  happy  necessity  of  receiving 
daily  out  of  his  fulness  (as  the  Israelites  re- 
ceived the  manna,)  than  to  be  set  up  with 
something  of  a  stock  of  wisdom,  power,  and 
goodness  of  our  own  1  Adam  was  thus  fur- 
nished at  the  beginning  with  strength  to  stand ; 
yet,  mutability  being  essential  to  a  creature, 
he  quickly  fell  and  lost  all.  We,  who  are 
by  nature  sinners,  are  not  left  to  so  hazard- 
ous an  experiment.  He  has  himself  engaged 
to  keep  us,  and  treasured  up  all  fulness  of 
grace  for  our  support  in  a  Head  who  cannot 
fail.  Our  gracious  Saviour  will  communi- 
cate all  needful  supplies  to  his  members,  yet 
in  such  a  manner,  that  they  shall  feel  their 
need  and  weakness,  and  have  nothing  to 
boast  of  from  first  to  last,  but  his  wisdom, 
compassion,  and  care.  We  are  in  no  worse 
circumstances  than  the  apostle  Paul,  who 
though  eminent  and  exemplary  in  the  chris- 
tian life,  found  and  freely  confessed,  that  he 
had  no  sufficiency  in  himself  to  think  a  good 
tliought.  Nor  did  he  wish  it  otherwise  ;  he 
even  gloried  in  his  infirmities,  that  the  power 
of  Christ  might  rest  upon  him.  Unbelief, 
and  a  thousand  evils,  are  still  in  our  hearts ; 


though  their  reign  and  doiriinion  in  at  an  end, 
they  are  not  slain  or  eradicated  ;  thfir  efl'eclii 
will  bo  felt  more  or  loss  sensibly,  qh  the  I»rd 
is  pleased  more  or  h\ss  to  atl()rd  or  abate  his 
gracious  intluencc!.  When  they  are  kept 
down,  we  are  no  better  in  ourselves,  for 
they  are  not  kept  down  by  us ;  but  wo  arc 
very  prone  to  think  better  of  ourselves  ut 
such  a  time,  and  therefore,  he  is  pleased  to 
|)ermit  us  at  seasons  to  feed  a  diirerenco,  that 
we  may  never  forget  how  weak  and  how  vile 
we  are.  We  cannot  absolutely  corujuer  these 
evils,  but  it  becomes  us  to  be  hmnbled  for 
them;  and  we  are  to  fight,  and  .strive,  and 
pray  against  them.  Our  great  duty  is  to  be 
at  his  footstool,  and  to  cry  to  him  who  ha.s 
promised  to  perform  all  things  ibr  us.  Why 
are  we  called  soldier.^  but  becau.se  wo  are 
called  to  a  warfare!  And  how  could  we 
fight,  if  there  were  no  enemies  to  resist! 
The  Lord's  soldiers  are  not  merely  for  show, 
to  make  an  empty  parade  in  a  uniform,  and 
to  brandish  their  arms  when  none  but  friends 
and  spectators  are  around  them.  No,  we 
must  stand  upon  the  field  of  battle ;  we  must 
face  the  fiery  darts  ;  we  must  wrestle  (which 
is  the  closest  and  most  arduous  kind  of  fight- 
I  ing)  with  our  foes:  nor  can  we  well  expect 
wholly  to  escape  wounds ;  but  the  leaves  of 
the  tree  of  life  are  provided  for  our  healing. 
The  Captain  of  our  salvation  is  at  hand,  and 
leads  us  on  with  an  assurance,  which  might 
make  even  a  coward  bold, — that  in  the  end 
we  shall  be  more  than  conquerors  through 
him  who  has  loved  us. 

I  am  ready  to  think,  that  some  of  the  sen- 
timents in  your  letters  are  not  properly 
yours,  such  as  you  yourself  have  derived  from 
tlie  scriptures,  but  rather  borrowed  from  a>i- 
thors  or  preachers,  whose  judgment  your  hu- 
mility has  led  you  to  prefer  to  your  own.  At 
least,  I  am  sure  the  scriptures  do  not  author- 
ise the  conclusion  which  distresses  you,  that 
if  you  were  a  child  of  God,  you  should  not 
feel  such  changes  and  oppositions.  Were  I 
to  define  a  christ  an,  or  rather  to  describe  him 
at  large,  I  know  no  text  I  would  choose 
sooner,  as  a  ground  for  the  subject,  than  Gal. 
V.  17.  A  christian  has  noble  aims,  which 
distinguish  him  from  the  bulk  of  mankind. 
His  leading  principles,  motives,  and  desires, 
are  all  supernatural  and  divine.  Could  he 
do  as  he  would,  there  is  not  a  spirit  before 
the  throne  should  excel  him  in  holiness,  love, 
and  obedience.  He  would  tread  in  the  very 
footsteps  of  his  Saviour,  fill  up  every  moment 
in  his  service,  and  employ  every  breath  in 
his  praise.  This  he  would  do,  but  alas !  he 
cannot.  Against  this  desire  of  the  spirit, 
there  is  a  contrary  desire  and  working  of  a 
corrupt  nature,  which  meets  him  at  every 
turn.  He  has  a  beautiful  copy  set  before 
him ;  he  is  enamoured  with  it ;  and  though 
he  does  not  expect  to  equal  it,  he  writes 
carefully  after  it,  and  longs  to  attain  to  the 


123S 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  G- 


nearest  possible  imitation.  But  indwelling 
sin  and  Satan  continually  jo^  his  hand,  and 
spoil  liis  strokes.  You  cannot,  madam,  form 
a  ri^ht  judfrment  of  yourself,  except  you 
make  due  allowance  for  those  things  wliich 
are  not  peculiar  to  yourself,  but  common  to 
all  who  have  spiritual  perception,  and  are  in- 
deed the  inseparable  appendages  of  this  mortal 
state.  If  it  were  not  so,  why  should  the 
most  spiritual  and  jrracious  people  be  so 
ready  to  confess  themselves  vile  and  worth- 
less ?  One  eminent  branch  of  our  holiness, 
is  a  sense  of  shame  and  humiliation  for  those 
evils  which  are  only  known  to  ourselves,  and 
to  him  who  searches  our  hearts,  joined  with 
an  acquiescence  in  Jesus,  who  is  appointed 
of  God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification, 
and  redemption.  I  will  venture  to  assure 
you,  that  though  you  will  possess  a  more  sta- 
ble peaco,  in  proportion  as  the  Lord  enables 
you  to  live  more  simply  upon  the  blood, 
riffhteousness,  and  grace  of  the  Mediator,  you 
will  never  grow  into  a  better  opinion  of 
yourself  than  you  have  at  present.  The 
nearer  you  are  brought  to  him,  the  quicker 
sense  you  will  have  of  your  continual  need 
of  him,  and  thereby  your  admiration  of  his 
power,  love,  and  compassion,  will  increase 
likewise  from  year  to  year. 

I  would  observe  farther,  that  our  spiritual 
exercises  are  not  a  little  influenced  by  our 
constitutional  temperament.  As  you  are  only 
an  ideal  correspondent,  I  can  but  conjecture 
about  you  upon  this  head.  If  your  frame'  is 
delicate,  and  your  nervous  system  very  sen- 
sible and  tender,  I  should  probably  ascribe 
some  of  your  apprehensions  to  this  cause.  It 
is  an  abstruse  subject,  and  I  will  not  enter 
into  it ;  but,  according  to  the  observations  I 


[let.  III. 


have  made,  persons  of  this  habit  seem  to  live 
more  upon  the  confines  of  the  invisible  world, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  and  to  be  more  susceptive 
of  impressions  from  it,  than  others.  That 
complaint,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  name, 
we  call  lowness  of  spirits,  rnay  probably  af- 
ford the  enemy  some  peculiar  advantages  and 
occasions  of  distressing  you.  The  mind  then 
perceives  objects  as  through  a  tinctured  me- 
dium, which  gives  them  a  dark  and  discou- 
raging appearance ;  and  I  believe  Satan  has 
more  influence  and  address  than  we  are 
aware  of  in  managing  the  glass.  And  when 
this  is  not  the  case  at  all  times,  it  may  be  so 
occasionally,  from  sickness,  or  other  circum- 
stances. You  tell  me  that  you  have  lately 
been  ill,  which,  together  with  your  present 
situation,  and  the  prospect  of  your  approach- 
ing hour,  may  probably  have  such  an  eflfect 
as  I  have  hinted.  You  may  be  charging 
yourself  with  guilt,  for  what  springs  from 
indisposition,  in  which  you  are  merely  pas- 
sive, and  which  may  be  no  more  properly 
sinful  than  the  head-ach,  or  any  of  the 
thousand  natural  shocks  the  flesh  is  heir  to. 
The  enemy  can  take  no  advantage  but  what 
the  Lord  permits  him ;  and  he  will  permit 
him  none  but  what  he  designs  to  over-rule 
for  your  greater  advantage  in  the  end.  He 
delights  in  your  prosperity;  and  you  should 
not  be  in  heaviness  for  an  hour,  were  there 
noc  a  need-be  for  it.  Notwithstanding  your 
fears,  I  have  a  good  hope,  that  he  who  you 
say  has  helped  you  in  six  troubles,  will  ap- 
pear for  you  in  the  seventh ;  that  you  will 
not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works  cf 
the  Lord,  and  come  forth  to  testify  to  his 
praise,  that  he  has  turned  your  mourning 
into  joy. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTERS 

TO  MISS  F 


i 


LETTER  I. 

October  3,  1778. 

DE\R  MADAM, — You  would  havG  me  tell 
you  what  are  the  best  means  to  be  used  by  a 
young  person,  to  prevent  the  world,  with  all 
its  opening  and  ensnaring  scenes,  from  draw- 
ing the  heart  aside  from  God.  It  is  an  im- 
portant question  ;  but  I  apprehend  your  own 
heart  will  tell  you,  that  you  are  already  pos- 
sessed of  all  the  information  concerning  it 
which  you  can  well  expect  from  me.  I 
could  only  attempt  to  answer  it  from  the  Bi- 
ble, which  lies  open  to  you  likewise.  If 
your  heart  is  like  mine,  it  must  confess,  that 
when  it  turns  aside  from  God,  it  is  seldom 
through  ignorance  of  the  proper  means  or 
motives  which  should  have  kept  us  near  him, 
but  rather  from  an  evil  principle  within, 
which  prevails  against  our  better  judgment, 
and  renders  us  unfaithful  to  light  already 
received. 

I  could  offer  you  rules,  cautions,  and  ad- 
vices in  abundance ;  for  I  find  it  compara- 
tively easy  to  preach  to  others.  But  if  you 
should  farther  ask  me,  How  you  shall  effec- 
tually reduce  them  to  practice  ]  I  feel  that 
I  am  so  deficient,  and  so  much  at  a  loss  in 
this  matter  myself,  that  I  know  not  well 
what  to  say  to  you.  Yet  something  must  be 
said. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  I  would  observe, 
that  though  it  be  our  bounden  duty,  and  the 
highest  privilege  we  can  propose  to  ourselves, 
to  have  our  hearts  kept  close  to  the  Lord ; 
yet  we  must  not  expect  it  absolutely  or  per- 
fectly, much  less  all  at  once ;  we  shall  keep 
close  to  him,  in  proportion  as  we  are  solidly 
convinced  of  the  infinite  disparity  between 
him  and  the  things  which  would  presume  to 
stand  in  competition  with  him,  and  the  folly, 
as  well  as  ingratitude,  of  departing  from  him. 
But  these  points  are  only  to  be  learned  by 
experience,  and  by  smarting  under  a  series 
of  painful  disappointments  in  our  expecta- 
tions from  creatures.  Our  judgments  may 
be  quickly  satisfied,  that  his  favour  is  better 
20 


than  life,  while  yet  it  is  in  the  power  of  a 
mere  trifle  to  turn  us  aside.  The  Lord  per- 
mits us  to  feel  our  weakness,  that  we  may 
be  sensible  of  it;  for  though  we  arc  ready, 
in  words,  to  confess  that  we  are  weak,  we 
do  not  so  properly  know  it,  till  that  secret, 
though  unallowed  dependence  we  have  upon 
some  strength  in  ourselves,  is  brought  to  the 
trial,  and  fails  us.  To  be  humble,  and  like 
a  little  child,  afraid  of  taking  a  step  alone, 
and  so  conscious  of  snares  and  dangers  around 
us,  as  to  cry  to  him  continually  to  hold  us 
up,  that  we  may  be  safe,  is  the  sure,  the  in- 
fallible, the  only  secret  of  walking  closely 
with  him. 

But  how  shall  we  attain  this  humble  frame 
of  spirit]  It  must  be,  as  I  said,  from  a  real 
and  sensible  conviction  of  our  weakness  and 
vileness,  which  we  cannot  learn  (at  least  I 
have  not  been  able  to  learn  it)  merely  from 
books  or  preachers.  The  providence  of  God 
concurs  with  his  Holy  Spirit  in  his  merciful 
design  of  making  us  acquainted  with  our- 
selves. It  is  indeed  a  great  mercy  to  be 
preserved  from  such  declensions  as  might 
fall  under  the  notice  of  our  fellow-creatures; 
but  when  they  can  observe  nothing  of  conse- 
quence to  object  to  us,  things  may  be  far 
from  right  with  us  in  the  sight  of  him  who 
judges  not  only  actions,  but  the  thoughts  and 
first  motions  of  the  heart.  And  indeed, 
could  we  for  a  season  so  cleave  to  God,  as 
to  find  little  or  nothing  in  ourselves  to  be 
ashamed  of,  we  are  such  poor  creatures,  that 
we  should  presently  grow  vain  and  self-suffi- 
cient, and  expose  ourselves  to  the  greatest 
danger  of  falling. 

There  are,  however,  means  to  be  observed 
on  our  part;  and  though  you  know  them,  I 
will  repeat  the  principal,  because  you  desira 
me.  The  first  is  Prayer ;  and  here,  above 
all  things,  we  should  pray  for  humility.  It 
may  be  called  both  the  guard  of  all  other 
graces,  and  the  soil  in  which  they  grow. 
The  second,  Attention  to  the  scripturea 
Your  question  is  directly  answered  in  Psalm 
1  cxL<.  9.  The  precepts  are  our  rule  and  de- 
289 


290 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  F- 


light,  the  promises  our  strcnfrth  and  encou- 
ragement: the  good  recorded  of  the  saints 
is  proposed  for  our  encourag-ement;  their 
miscarriages  are  as  land-marks  set  up  to 
warn  us  of  the  rocks  and  shoals  which  lie 
in  the  way  of  our  passage.  The  study  of 
the  whole  scheme  of  gospel-salvation,  re- 
specting the  person,  life,  doctrine,  death  and 
glory  of  our  Redeemer,  is  appointed  to  form 
our  souls  to  a  spiritual  and  divine  taste;  and 
eo  far  as  this  prevails  and  grows  in  us,  the 
trifles  that  would  draw  us  from  tlie  ].ord  will 
lose  their  influence,  and  appear,  divested  of 
the  glare  with  which  they  strike  the  senses, 
mere  vanity  and  nothing.  The  third  grand 
means  is,  Consideration  or  Recollection ;  a 
careful  regard  to  those  temptations  and 
snares,  to  which,  from  our  tempers,  situa- 
tions, or  connections,  we  are  more  immedi- 
ately exposed,  and  by  which  we  have  been 
formerly  hindered.  It  may  be  well  in  the 
morning,  ere  we  leave  our  chambers,  to  fore- 
cast, as  far  as  we  are  able,  the  probable  cir- 
cumstances of  the  day  before  us.  Yet  the 
observance  of  this  as  well  as  of  every  rule 
that  can  be  offered,  may  dwindle  into  a  mere 
form.  However,  I  trust  the  Lord,  who  has 
given  you  a  desire  to  live  to  him,  will  be 
your  guard  and  teacher.  There  is  none 
teacheth  like  him. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  II. 

March— 1719. 
DEAR  MADAM, — Our  experiences  pretty 
much  tally  ;  they  may  be  drawn  out  into 
sheets  and  quires,  but  the  sum  total  may  be 
comprised  in  a  short  sentence,  "  Our  life  is 
a  warfire."  For  our  encouragement,  the 
apostle  calls  it  a  good  warfare.  We  are  en- 
gaged in  a  good  cause,  fight  under  a  good 
Captain,  the  victory  is  sure  beforehand,  and 
the  prize  is  a  crown,  a  crown  of  life.  Such 
considerations  might  make  even  a  coward 
bold.  But  then  we  must  be  content  to  fight; 
and  considering  the  nature,  number,  situa- 
tion, and  subtilty  of  our  enemies,  we  may 
expect  sometimes  to  receive  a  wound ;  but 
there  is  a  medicinal  tree,  the  leaves  of  which 
are  always  at  hand  to  heal  us.  We  cannot 
be  too  attentive  to  the  evil  which  is  always 
working  in  us,  or  to  the  stratagems  which 
are  employed  against  us;  yet  our  attention 
should  not  be  wholly  confined  to  these  things. 
We  are  to  look  upwards  likewise  to  him, 
who  is  our  head,  our  life,  our  strength.  One 
glance  of  Jesus  will  convey  more  effectual 
assistance  than  poring  upon  our  own  hearts 
for  a  month.  The  one  is  to  be  done  ;  but  the 
other  should  upon  no  account  be  omitted.     It 


-.  [let.  ii. 

was  not  by  countmg  their  wounds,  but  by 
beholding  the  brazen  serpent,  the  Lord's  in- 
stituted means  of  cure,  that  the  Israelites 
were  healed.  That  was  an  emblem  for  our 
instruction.  One  great  cause  of  our  fre- 
quent conflicts  is,  that  we  have  a  secret  de- 
sire to  be  rich,  and  it  is  the  liord's  design  to 
make  us  poor;  we  want  to  gain  an  ability  of 
doing  something  ;  and  he  suits  his  dispensa- 
tions, to  convince  us  that  we  can  do  nothing : 
we  want  a  stock  in  ourselves,  and  he  would 
have  us  absolutely  dependent  upon  him.  So 
far  as  we  are  content  to  bo  weak,  that  his 
power  may  be  magnified  in  us,  so  far  we 
shall  make  our  enemies  know  that  we  are 
strong,  though  we  ourselves  shall  never  be 
directly  sensible  that  we  are  so;  only  by 
comparing  what  we  are  with  the  opposition 
we  stand  against,  we  may  come  to  a  comfort- 
able conclusion,  that  the  Lord  worketh 
mightily  in  us,  Psal,  xli.  11. 

If  our  views  are  simple,  and  our  desires 
towards  the  Lord,  it  may  be  of  use  to  con- 
sider some  of  your  faults  and  mine,  not  as 
the  faults  of  you  and  me  in  particular,  but  as 
the  fault  of  that  depraved  nature  which  is 
common  with  us  to  all  the  Lord's  people,  and 
which  made  Paul  groan  as  feelingly  and  as 
heartily  as  we  can  do.  But  this  considera- 
tion, though  true  and  scriptural,  can  only  be 
safely  applied  when  the  mind  is  sincerely 
and  in  good  earnest  devoted  to  the  Lord. 
There  are  too  many  unsound  and  half  pro- 
fessors, who  eagerly  catch  at  it  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  those  evils  they  are  unwilling  to 
part  with.  But  I  trust  I  may  safely  recom- 
mend it  to  )^ou.  This  evil  nature,  this  in- 
dwelling sin,  is  a  living  principle,  an  active, 
powerful  cause ;  and  a  cause  that  is  active 
will  necessarily  produce  an  effect.  Sin  is 
the  same  thing  in  believers  as  in  the  unrege- 
nerate  :  they  have  indeed  a  contrary  princi- 
ple of  grace,  which  counteracts  and  resists 
it,  which  can  prevent  its  outbreakings,  but 
will  not  suppress  its  risings.  As  grace  re- 
sists sin,  so  sin  resists  grace.  Gal.  v.  17.  The 
proper  tendency  of  each  is  mutually  weak- 
ened on  both  sides ;  and,  between  the  two, 
the  poor  believer,  however  blameless  and 
exemplary  in  the  sight  of  men,  appears  in 
his  own  view  the  most  inconsistent  charac- 
ter under  the  sun.  He  can  hardly  think  it 
is  so  with  others;  and,  judging  of  them  by 
what  he  sees,  and  of  himself  by  what  he  feels, 
in  lowliness  of  heart  he  esteems  others  better 
than  himself  This  proves  him  to  be  right, 
for  it  is  the  will  of  God  concerning  him,  Phil, 
ii.  3.  This  is  the  warfare.  But  it  shall  not 
always  be  so.  Grace  shall  prevail.  The 
evil  nature  is  already  enervated,  and  ere 
long  it  will  die  the  death.  Jesus  will  make 
us  more  than  conquerors. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  DR. 


LETTER  I. 

April  17,  1776. 
DEAR  SIR, — By  this  time  I  hope  you  are 
both  returned  in  peace,  and  happy  together  in 
your  stated  favoured  tract ;  rejoicing  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  yourselves,  and  rejoicing  to 
Bee  the  savour  of  it  spreading  like  a  precious 
perfume  among  the  people.  Every  day  I 
hope  you  find  prejudices  wearing  off,  and 
more  disposed  to  hear  the  words  of  life. 
The  Lord  has  given  you  a  fine  first-fruits, 
which  I  trust  will  prove  the  earnest  of  a 
plentiful  harvest.  In  the  mean  time  he  will 
enable  you  to  sow  the  seed  in  patience,  leav- 
ing the  event  in  his  hands.  Though  it  does 
not  spring  up  visibly  at  once,  it  will  not  be 
lost.  I  think  he  would  not  have  sent  you  if 
he  had  not  a  people  there  to  call ;  but  they 
can  only  come  forth  to  view  as  he  is  pleased 
to  bring  them.  Satan  will  try  to  hinder  and 
disturb  you,  but  he  is  in  a  chain  which  he  can- 
not break,  nor  go  a  step  farther  than  he  is 
permitted.  And  if  you  have  been  instru- 
mental to  the  conversion  of  but  a  few,  in 
those  few  you  have  an  ample  reward  al- 
ready for  all  the  difficulties  you  have  or  can 
meet  with.  It  is  more  honourable  and  im- 
portant to  be  an  instrument  of  saving  one 
soul  than  to  rescue  a  whole  kingdom  from 
temporal  ruin.  Let  us  therefore,  while  we 
earnestly  desire  to  be  more  useful,  not  for- 
get to  be  thankful  for  what  the  Lord  has 
been  pleased  already  to  do  for  us;  and  let 
us  expect,  knowing  whose  servants  we  are, 
and  what  a  gospel  we  preach,  to  see  some 
new  miracles  wrought  from  day  to  day,  for 
indeed  every  real  conversion  may  be  ac- 
counted miraculous,  being  no  less  than  an 
immediate  exertion  of  that  power  which 
made  the  heavens,  and  commanded  the  light 
to  shine  out  of  darkness.  Your  little  teles- 
cope is  safe.  I  wish  I  had  more  of  that 
clear  air  and  sunshine  you  speak  of,  that 
with  you  I  might  have  more  distinct  views 


of  the  land  of  promise,  I  cannot  say  my 
prospect  is  greatly  clouded  by  doubts  of  my 
reaching  it  at  last ;  but  then  there  is  such  a 
languor  and  deadness  hanging  upon  my 
mind,  that  it  is  almost  amazing  to  me  how 
I  can  entertain  any  hopes  at  all.  It  seems, 
if  doubting  could  ever  be  reasonable,  there 
is  no  one  who  has  greater  reason  for  doubt- 
ing than  myself.  But  I  know  not  how  to 
doubt,  when  I  consider  the  faithfulness, 
grace,  and  compassion  of  him  who  has 
promised.  If  it  could  be  proved  that 
Christ  had  not  died,  or  that  he  did  not 
speak  the  words  which  are  ascribed  to  him 
in  the  gospel,  or  that  he  is  not  able  to  make 
them  good,  or  that  his  word  cannot  safely 
be  taken;  in  any  of  these  cases  I  should 
doubt  to  purpose,  and  lie  down  in  despair. — 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

July  1.5,  1776. 
MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  begin  with  congratula- 
tions first  to  you  and  Mrs. ,  on  your  safe 

journey  and  good  passage  over  the  formi- 
dable Huniber.    Mrs. has  another  river 

to  cross  (may  it  be  many  years  before  she 
approaches  the  bank)  over  which  there  is 
no  bridge.  Perhaps  at  seasons  she  may 
think  of  it  with  that  reluctance  which  she 
felt  before  she  saw  the  Humber ;  but  as  her 
fears  were  then  agreeably  disappointed,  and 
she  found  the  experiment,  when  called  to 
make  it  neither  terrifying  nor  dangerous, 
so  I  trust  she  will  find  it  in  the  other  case. 
Did  not  she  think,  the  Lord  knows  where 
I  shall  be,  and  he  will  meet  me  there  with 
a  storm,  because  I  am  such  a  sinner  I  Then 
how  the  billows  will  foam  and  rage  at  me, 
and  what  a  long  passage  I  shall  have,  and 
perhaps  I  shall  sink  in  the  middle,  and  never 
set  my  foot  in  Hull.  It  is  true,  I  am  not 
291 


292 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  DR. 


[let.  ir. 


so  much  afraid  of  the  journey  I  go  by  land, 
thoug'h  I  know  that  every  step  of  the  way 
the  horses  or  the  chaise  may  fall,  and  I  be 
killed ;  but  how  do  I  know  but  he  may  pre- 
serve me  on  the  road  on  purpose  to  drown 
me  in  the  river  J  But  behold,  when  she 
came  to  it  all  was  calm,  or  what  was  better, 
a  gentle,  fair  breeze,  to  wafl  her  pleasantly 
over  before  she  was  aware.  Thus  we  are 
apt  perversely  to  reason  ;  he  guides  and 
guards  me  through  life ;  he  gives  me  new 
mercies,  and  new  proofs  of  his  power  and 
care  every  day ;  and  therefore,  when  I  come 
to  die,  he  will  forsake  me  and  let  me  be  the 
sport  of  winds  and  waves.  Indeed  the  Lord 
does  not  deserve  such  hard  thoughts  at  our 
hands  as  we  are  prone  to  form  of  him.  But 
notwithstanding  we  make  such  returns,  he 
is  and  will  be  gracious  and  shame  us  out  of 
our  unkind,  ungrateful,  unbelieving  fears 
at  last.  If,  after  my  repeated  kind  recep- 
tion at  your  house,  1  should  always  be  teas- 
ing Mrs. with  suspicions  of  her  good- 
will, and  should  tell  every  body  I  saw,  that 
I  verily  believed  the  next  time  I  went  to 
see  her  she  would  shut  the  door  in  my  face, 
and  refuse  me  admittance,  would  she  not  be 
grieved,  offended,  and  affronted  1  Would 
she  not  think.  What  reason  can  he  assign 
for  this  treatment  ?  He  knows  I  did  every 
thing  in  my  power  to  assure  him  of  a  wel- 
come, and  told  liim  so  over  and  over  again. 
Does  he  count  me  a  deceiver  1  Yes,  he 
does :  I  see  his  friendship  is  not  worth  pre- 
serving ;  so  farewell.  I  will  seek  friends 
among  such  as  believe  my  words  and  actions. 
Well,  my  dear  madam,  I  am  clear,  I  always 
believed  you  ;  I  .make  no  doubt  but  you  will 
treat  me  kindly  next  time,  as  you  did 
the  last.  But  pray,  is  not  the  Lord  as 
worthy  of  being  trusted  as  yourself,  and  are 
not  his  invitations  and  promises  as  hearty 
and  as  honest  as  yours?  Let  us  therefore 
beware  of  giving  way  to  such  thoughts  of 
him  as  we  could  hardly  forgive  in  our  dear- 
est friends,  if  they  should  harbour  the  like 
of  us. 

I  have  heard  of  nothing  of  Mr.  P yet, 

but  that  he  is  in  town,  very  busy  about  that 
precious  peace  of  furniture  called  a  wife. 
May  the  Lord  direct  and  bless  his  choice. 
In  Captain  Cook's  voyage  to  the  South  Sea, 
some  fish  were  caught  which  looked  as  well 
as  others,  but  those  who  ate  of  them  were 
poisoned  :  alas  for  the  poor  man  who  catches 
a  poisonous  wife  !  There  are  such  to  be 
met  with  in  the  matrimonial  seas,  that  look 
passing  well  to  the  eye,  but  a  connexion 
with  them  proves  baneful  to  domestic  peace, 
and  hurtful  to  the  life  of  grace.  I  know 
two  or  three  people,  perhaps  a  few  more, 
who  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful  to  him 
who  sent  the  fish,  with  the  money  in  its 
mouth,  to  Peter's  hook.  He  secretly  in- 
structed and  guided  us  where  to  angle,  and, 


if  we  have  caught  prizes,  we  owe  it  not  to 
our  own  skill,  much  less  to  our  deserts,  but 
to  his  goodness. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  III. 


MY  DEAR  SIR,- 


Septemher  4,  1776. 
-Poor  little  boy,  it  is  a 


mercy  indeed  that  he  recovered  from  such  a 
formidable  hurt.  The  Lord  wounded  and 
the  Lord  healed.  I  ascribe,  with  you,  what 
the  world  calls  accident  to  him,  and  believe 
that  without  his  permission  for  wise  and 
good  er^ds,  a  child  can  no  more  pull  a  bowl 
of  boiling  water  on  itself  than  it  could  pull 
the  moon  out  of  her  orbit.  And  why  does 
he  permit  such  things  ]  One  reason  or  two 
is  sufficient  for  us ;  it  is  to  remind  us  of  the 
uncertainty  of  life  and  all  creature-com- 
forts ;  to  make  us  afraid  of  cleaving  too 
close  to  pretty  toys,  w'hich  are  so  precari- 
ous, that  often  while  we  look  at  them  they 
vanish,  and  to  lead  us  to  a  more  entire  de- 
pendence upon  himself;  that  we  might  ne- 
ver judge  ourselves  or  our  concerns  safe 
from  outward  appearances  only,  but  that  the 
Lord  is  our  keeper,  and  were  not  his  eye 
upon  us,  a  thousand  dangers  and  painftil 
changes,  which  we  can  neither  foresee  nor 
prevent,  are  lurking  about  us  every  step, 
ready  to  break  in  upon  us  every  hour. 
Men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth. 
How  many  are  labouring  and  planning  in 
the  pursuit  of  things,  the  event  of  which,  if 
they  obtain  them  will  be  but  like  pulling 
scalding  water  upon  their  ow'n  heads.  They 
must  have  the  bowl  by  all  means,  but  they 
are  not  aware  what  is  in  it  till  they  feel  it — 
I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  IV. 

July  7,  1777. 
SIR, — I  have  had  a  letter  from  your  mi- 
nister since  his  arrival  at .     I  hope  he 

will  be  restored  to  you  again  before  long, 
and  that  he  and  many  of  your  place  will  re- 
joice long  in  each  other.  Those  are  favoured 
places  which  are  blessed  with  a  sound  and 
faithful  gospel-ministry,  if  the  people  know 
and  consider  the  value  of  their  privileges, 
and  are  really  desirous  of  profiting  by  them ; 
but  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but 
in  power.  I  hope  those  who  profess  the 
gospel  with  you  will  wrestle  in  prayer  for 
grace  to  walk  worthy  of  it.  A  minister's 
hands  are  strengthened,  when  he  can  point 
\  to  his  people,  as  so  many  living  proofs,  that 
j  the  doctrines  he  preaches  are  doctrines  ac- 
I  cording  to  godliness;    when  they  walk  in 


LKT.  IV.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  DR. 


298 


mutual  lovo;  whon  each  ono,  in  tlioir  snvo- 
ral  places,  manift'stri  an  Immblr,  spiritual, 
aiul  iipriijht  cofulurt;  when  tliry  are  cliriH- 
tiaii:?,  not  only  at  clnircli,  hut  in  tlur  tUniily, 
tlio  shop,  and  the  tiehl ;  when  thoy  till  up 
their  relations  in  lite,  as  hnshands  or  wives, 
masters  or  servants,  parents  or  chihiren,  ac- 
cordinij  to  the  rule  of  the  word;  when  they 
arc  evidently  a  i)eople  separated  from  tli(? 
world  while  conversant  in  it,  and  are  careful 
to  let  their  lii^ht  shine  before  men,  not  only 
by  talkinir,  but  by  actin<r  as  the  disciples  of 
Christ ;  when  they  iroon  steadily,  not  by  Hts 
and  starts,  prizini]^  the  means  of  jjrace,  with- 
out restinrr  in  them  :  when  it  is  thus,  we  can 
Bay,  Now  wc  live,  if  you  stand  fast  iu  the 


fx)nl.  Th<*n  we  com<'  forth  with  pleasure, 
and  otir  service  is  our  <leji«r|,i,  und  wearocn- 
couraired  to  hope  for  an  iucr<'fi.'^in<j  hU't-rwg. 
Hut  if  the  pe()[)Ie  in  uhom  we  have  rejr  iced 
sink  into  formality  or  a  worldly  spirit ;  if  they 
have  dissensions  and  jealousies  amon«j  them- 
selves if  they  act  improj)erly,  and  (jive  the 
enemies  occasion  to  say.  There,  there,  go 
would  we  have  it:  then  our  heaits  are  wound- 
ed and  our  zeal  damped,  and  we  know  not 
how  to  speak  with  liberty.  It  is  my  heart's 
desire  and  prayer  for  you,  that  wliether  I  see 
you,  or  else  bo  absent  from  you,  I  may  know 
that  you  .stand  fa.st  in  one  spirit  and  one 
mind,  striving-  tog^cther  for  the  faith  of  the 
gospel. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTERS 


TO  MRS. 


LETTER  I. 

iVov.  — 1775. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Too  much  of  that  im- 
patience which  you  speak  of,  towards  those 
who  differ  from  us  in  some  religious  senti- 
ments, is  observable  on  all  sides.  I  do  not 
consider  it  as  the  fault  of  a  few  individuals, 
or  of  this  or  that  party,  so  much  as  the  effect 
of  that  inherent  imperfection  which  is  com- 
mon to  our  whole  race.  Anger  and  scorn 
are  equally  unbecoming  in  those  who  pro- 
fess to  be  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus,  and  who  acknowledge  themselves  to 
be  both  sinful  and  fallible ;  but  too  often  some- 
thing of  this  leaven  will  be  found  cleaving 
to  the  best  characters,  and  mixed  with  honest 
endeavours  to  serve  the  best  cause.  But 
thus  it  was  from  the  beginning;  and  we  have 
reason  to  confess  that  we  are  no  better  than 
the  apostles  were,  who,  though  they  meant 
well,  manifested  once  and  again  a  wrong  spi- 
rit in  their  zeal,  Luke  ix.  54.  Observation 
and  experience  contribute,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  gradually  to  soften  and  sweeten  our  spi- 
rits ;  but  then  there  will  always  be  ground 
for  mutual  forbearance  and  mutual  forgive- 
ness on  his  head.  However,  so  far  as  I  may 
judge  of  myself,  I  think  this  hastiness  is  not 
my  most  easily  besetting  sin.  T  am  not  in- 
deed an  advocate  for  that  indifference  and 
lukewarmness  to  the  truths  of  God,  which 
seem  to  constitute  the  candour  many  plead 
for  in  the  present  day.  But  while  I  desire 
to  hold  fast  the  sound  doctrines  of  the  gospel, 
towards  the  persons  of  my  fellow-creatures, 
I  wish  to  exercise  all  moderation  and  benevo- 
lence. Protestants  or  Papists,  Socinians  or 
Deists,  Jews,  Samaritans,  or  Mahometans, 
all  are  my  neighbours,  they  have  all  a  claim 
upon  me  for  the  common  offices  of  humanity. 
As  to  religion,  they  cannot  all  be  right ;  nor 
may  I  compliment  them  by  allowing  the  dif- 
ferences between  us  are  but  trivial,  when  I 
believe  and  know  they  are  important ;  but  I 
am  not  to  expect  them  to  see  with  my  eyes. 
I  am  deeply  convinced  of  the  truth  of  John 
294 


;  Baptist's  aphorism,  John  iii.  27.  "  A  man 
can  receive  nothing,  except  it  be  given  him 
from  heaven."  I  well  know,  that  the  little 
measure  of  knowledge  I  have  obtained  in 
the  things  of  God,  has  not  been  owing  to  my 
own  wisdom  and  docility,  but  to  his  goodness. 
Nor  did  I  get  it  all  at  once ;  he  has  been 
pleased  to  exercise  much  patience  and  long- 
suffering  towards  me,  for  about  twenty-seven 
years  past,  since  he  first  gave  me  a  desire  of 
learning  from  himself  He  has  graciously  ac- 
commodated himself  to  my  weakness,  borne 
with  mistakes,  and  helped  mc  through  in- 
numerable prejudices,  which,  but  for  his 
mercy,  would  have  been  insuperable  hin- 
derances :  I  have  therefore  no  right  to  be  an- 
gry, impatient,  or  censorious,  especially  as  I 
have  still  much  to  learn,  and  am  so  poorly 
inffuenced  by  what  I  seem  to  know.  I  am 
weary  of  controversies  and  disputes,  and  de- 
sire to  choose  for  myself,  and  to  point  out  to 
others,  Mary's  part,  to  sit  at  Jesus'  feet,  and 
to  hear  his  words.  And,  blessed  be  his 
name  !  so  far  as  I  have  learned  from  him,  I 
am  favoured  with  a  comfortable  certainty  :  I 
know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  no 
longer  tossed  about  by  the  various  winds  and 
tides  of  opinions,  by  which  I  see  many  are 
dashed  one  against  the  other.  But  I  cannot, 
I  must  not,  I  dare  not  contend ;  only,  as  a 
witness  for  God,  I  am  ready  to  bear  my  sim- 
ple testimony  to  what  I  have  known  of  his 
truth,  whenever  I  am  properly  called  to  it. 

I  agree  with  you,  that  some  accounted 
evangelical  teachers  have  too  much  confined 
themselves  to  a  few  leading  and  favourite 
topics.  I  think  this  a  fault;  and  believe, 
when  it  is  constantly  so,  the  auditors  are  de- 
prived of  much  edification  and  pleasure, 
which  they  might  receive  from  a  more  judi- 
cious and  comprehensive  plan.  The  whoU 
scripture,  as  it  consists  of  histories,  prophe- 
cies, doctrines,  precepts,  promises,  exhort- 
ations, admonitions,  encouragements,  and 
reproofs,  is  the  proper  subject  of  the  gospel- 
ministry  ;  and  every  part  should  in  its  place 
and  course  be  attended  to ;  yet,  so  as  that,  in 


LET.  1.] 


ij:tters  to  mrs. 


205 


every  compartment  we  exhibit,  Jesus  should 
be  the  mpital  fi«jiirt' ;  in  whom  tho  prophecies 
are  fullilled,  the  proiniscs  e.slubli.sheti ;  to 
whom,  in  a  way  of  type  and  emblem,  the 
most  im}K)rtaiit  parts  of  scripture  hi.story 
have  un  express  reference;  and  from  whom 
alone  we  can  receive  that  life,  stren<jth,  and 
encourafjement,  which  are  necessary  to  make 
obedience  eitiier  plejisinjjor  practicable.  And 
where  there  is  true  spiritual  faith  in  the 
heart,  and  in  exercise,  I  believe  a  person 
will  not  so  much  need  a  detail  of  what  he  is 
to  practice,  as  to  be  ot\en  g-reatly  at  a  loss 
witiiout  it.  Our  Saviour's  commandments 
are  plain  and  clear  in  themselves;  and  that 
love  which  springs  from  faith,  is  the  best 
casuist  and  commentator  to  apply  ajid  en- 
force them. 

Vou  are  pleased  to  say,  "Forgive  me  if  I 
transgress ;  I  know  the  place  whereon  I  stand 
is  holy  ground."  Permit  me  to  assure  you, 
my  dear  madam,  that  were  I,  which  I  am 
not,  a  person  of  some  importance,  you  would 
run  no  hazard  of  offending  me  by  controvert- 
ing any  of  my  sentiments:  I  hold  none 
(knowingly)  which  I  am  not  willing  to  sub- 
mit to  examination  ;  nor  am  I  afraid  of  of- 
fending you  by  speaking  freely,  when  you 
point  out  my  way.  I  should  wrong  you,  if 
I  thought  to  please  you  by  palliating  or  dis- 
guising the  sentiments  of  ray  heart;  and  if  I 
attempt  to  do  so,  you  would  soon  see  through 
the  design,  and  despise  it.  There  may  per- 
haps be  an  improper  manner  of  chiming  upon 
the  name  of  Jesus,  and  I  am  not  for  vindicat- 
ing any  impropriety ;  yet,  could  I  feel  what 
I  ought  to  mean  when  I  pronounce  that 
name,  I  should  not  fear  mentioning  it  too 
often.  I  am  afraid  of  no  excess  in  thinking 
highly  of  it,  because  I  read  it  is  the  will  of 
God  that  all  men  should  honour  the  Son  as 
they  honour  the  Father.  Laboured  explica- 
tions of  the  Trinity  I  always  avoid.  I  am 
afraid  of  darkening  counsel  by  words  with- 
out knowledge.  Scripture,  and  even  reason, 
assures  me,  there  is  but  one  God,  whose  name 
alone  is  Jehovah.  Scripture  likewise  as- 
sures me  that  Christ  is  God,  that  Jesus  is 
Jehovah.  I  cannot  say  that  reason  assents 
with  equal  readiness  to  this  proposition  as  to 
the  former.  But,  admitting  what  the  scrip- 
tures teach  concerning  the  evil  of  sin,  the 
depravity  of  human  nature,  the  method  of 
salvation,  and  the  office  of  the  Saviour ;  ad- 
mitting that  God  has  purposed  to  glorify, 
not  his  mercy  only,  but  his  justice,  in  the 
work  of  redemption ;  that  the  blood  shed  upon 
the  cross  is  a  proper,  adequate  satisfaction 
for  sin ;  and  that  the  Redeemer  is  at  present 
the  Shepherd  of  those  who  believe  in  him, 
and  will  hereafter  be  the  Judge  of  the  world ; 
that,  in  order  to  give  the  effectual  help  which 
we  need,  it  is  necessary  that  he  be  always 
intimately  with  those  \vho  depend  upon  him, 
in  every  age,  in  every  place ;  must  know  the 


thoughts  and  intents  of  every  heart ;  must 
have  hi.s  eye  alwnyH  upon  them,  hiH  ear  al- 
wuy.M  open  to  tiieui,  his  arm  ever  wtrelchcd 
out  for  their  relief;  that  they  can  remive  no- 
thing but  what  he  bestows,  can  do  nnthin^f 
but  as  he  enables  thfm,  nor  stand  a  moment 
but  as  he  upholds  them  :  admittu)g  thes*-  and 
the  lik»»  promi.'^es,  with  which  tho  wonl  of 
(I(xl  abounds,  reason  nmst  allow-,  whatever 
difficulties  may  attend  the  thought,  that  only 
he  who  is  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever,  la 
able  or  worthy  to  execute  this  complicated 
plan,  every  part  of  which  re(juires  the  exer- 
tion of  infinite  wisdom  and  almighty  power; 
nor  am  I  able  to  form  any  clear,  satisfactory, 
or  comfortable  thoughts  of  God,  suited  to 
awaken  my  love  or  engage  my  trust,  but  as 
he  has  been  pleased  to  reveal  himself  in  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  believe,  with  the 
apostle,  that  God  was  once  manifested  in  the 
flesh  upon  earth,  and  that  he  is  now  mani- 
fested in  the  flesh  in  heaven ;  and  that  the 
worship,  not  only  of  redeemed  sinners,  but  of 
the  holy  angels,  is  addressed  to  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  and  who,  in  that  nature  in  which 
he  suffered,  now  exercises  universal  domi- 
nion, and  has  the  government  of  heaven, 
earth,  and  hell  upon  his  shoulders.  This 
truth  is  the  foundation  upon  which  my  hope 
is  built,  the  fountain  from  whence  I  derive 
all  my  strength  and  consolation,  and  my  only 
encouragement  for  venturing  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  for  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need. 

Till  God  in  human  flesh  I  see. 

My  thoughts  no  comfort  find ; 
The  holy,  just,  and  sacred  Three 

Are  terrors  to  my  mind. 
But  if  Immanuel's  face  appear, 

My  hope,  my  joy  begins  ; 
His  name  forbids  my  slavish  fear, 

His  grace  removes  my  sins. 

I  am,  however,  free  to  confess  to  you,  that, 
through  the  pride  and  unbelief  remaining  in 
my  heart,  and  the  power  of  Satan's  tempta- 
tions, there  are  seasons  when  I  find  no  small 
perplexity  and  evil  reasonings  upon  this  high 
point;  but  it  is  so  absolutely  essential  to  my 
peace  that  I  cannot  part  with  it,  for  I  can- 
not give  it  up  without  giving  up  all  hope  of 
salvation  on  the  one  hand,  and  giving  up  the 
Bible,  as  an  unmeaning,  contradictory  fable, 
on  the  other;  and,  through  mercy,  for  the 
most  part,  when  I  am  in  my  right  mind,  I 
am  as  fully  persuaded  of  this  truth  as  I  am 
of  my  own  existence;  but,  from  the  exercises 
I  have  had  about  it,  I  have  learned  to  sub- 
scribe to  the  apostle's  declaration,  that  "  no 
man  can  say  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  but 
by  the  Holy  Ghost."  I  am  well  satisfied  it 
will  not  be  a  burden  to  me  at  the  hour  of 
death,  nor  be  laid  to  my  charge  at  the  day 
of  judgment,  that  I  have  thought  too  highly 
of  Jesus,  expected  too  much  from  him  myself 
or  laboured  too  much  in  commending  and 
setting  him  forth  to  others  as  the  Alpha  and 


296 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  ir. 


Omega,  the  true  God  and  eternal  life.  On 
the  contrary,  alas!  alas!  my  guilt  and  grief 
are,  that  my  tlioughts  of  hiin  arc  so  faint,  so 
infrequent,  and  my  commendations  of  him  so 
lamentably  cold  and  disproportionate  to  what 
they  ought  to  be. 

I  know  not  whose  letters  are  rapturous, 
but  I  wish  mine  were  more  so ;  not  that  I  am 
a  friend  to  ungrounded  sallies  of  imagina- 
tion, flights  of  animal  passions,  or  heat  with- 
out light.  But  it  would  be  amazing  to  me, 
were  I  not  aware  of  human  depravity,  of 
which  I  consider  this  as  one  of  the  most 
striking  proofs,  tjiat  they  who  have  any  good 
hope  of  an  interest  in  the  gospel  salvation 
do  not  find  their  hearts  (as  Dr.  Watts  ex- 
presses it)  all  on  fire,  and  that  their  very 
looks  do  not  express  a  transport  of  admira- 
tion, gratitude,  and  love,  when  they  consider 
from  what  misery  they  are  redeemed,  to 
what  happiness  they  are  called,  and  what  a 
price  was  paid  for  their  souls.  I  wish  to  be 
more  like  the  apostle  Paul  in  this  respect, 
who,  though  he  often  forms  and  compounds 
new  words,  seems  at  a  loss  for  any  that 
could  suitably  describe  the  emotions  of  his 
heart.  But  I  am  persuaded  you  would  not 
object  to  the  just  fervour  of  scriptural  devo- 
tion. But  this  holy  flame  can  seldom  be 
found  unsullied  in  the  present  life.  The  tem- 
per, constitution,  and  infirmities  of  indivi- 
duals will  mix  more  or  less  with  what  they 
say  or  do.  Allowances  must  be  made  for 
such  things  in  the  present  state  of  infirmity,. 
for  who  can  hope  to  be  perfectly  free  from 
them  7  If  the  heart  is  right  with  God,  and 
sincerely  affected  with  the  wonders  of  re- 
deeming love,  our  gracious  High-priest,  who 
knows  our  weakness,  pities  and  pardons  what 
is  amiss,  accepts  our  poor  efforts,  and  gra- 
dually teaches  us  to  discern  and  avoid  what 
is  blameable.  The  work  of  grace,  in  its  first 
stages,  I  sometimes  compare  to  the  lighthig 
of  a  fire,  where  for  a  while  there  is  abund- 
ance of  smoke,  but  by  and  by  it  burns  clear- 
er and  clearer.  There  is  often,  both  in  let- 
ters and  books,  what  might  be  very  well 
omitted  ;  but  if  a  love  to  God  and  souls  be 
the  leading  principle,  T  pass  as  gentle  cen- 
sure upon  the  rest  as  I  can,  and  apply  to 
some  eccentric  expressions,  what  Mr.  Prior 
somewhere  says  of  our  civil  dissensions  m 
this  land  of  liberty, 

A  bad  effect,  but  from  a  noble  cause. 

1  am,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

February  16, 177G. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — It  gavc  mc  great  com- 
fort to  find,  that  what  I  wrote  concerning  the 
ivine  character  of  Jesus,  as  God  manifest 


in  the  flesh,  met  with  your  approbation^ 
This  doctrine  is,  in  my  view,  the  great  found- 
ation-stone upon  which  all  true  religion  is 
built;  but,  alas!  in  the  present  day,  it  is  the 
stumbling-stone  and  rock  of  oflTence,  upon 
which  too  many,  fondly  presuming  upon 
their  own  wisdom,  fall  and  are  broken.  I 
am  so  far  from  wondering  that  any  should 
doubt  of  it,  that  I  am  firmly  persuaded  none 
can  truly  believe  it,  however  plainly  set 
forth  in  scripture,  unless  it  be  revealed  to 
them  from  heaven,  or,  in  the  apostle's  words, 
that  "  no  one  can  call  Jesus  Christ  Lord,  but 
by  the  Holy  Ghost."  I  believe  there  are 
many  who  think  they  believe  it,  because 
they  have  taken  it  for  granted,  and  never 
attentively  considered  the  difficulties  with 
which  it  is  attended  in  the  eye  of  fallen 
reason.  Judging  by  natural  light,  it  seems 
impossible  to  believe  that  the  title  of  the 
true  God  and  eternal  life  should  properly  be- 
long to  that  despised  man  who  hung  dead 
upon  the  cross,  exposed  to  the  insults  of  his 
cruel  enemies.  I  know  nothing  that  can  ob- 
viate the  objections  the  reasoning  mind  is 
ready  to  form  against  it,  but  a  real  convic- 
tion of  the  sinfulness  of  sin,  and  the  state  of 
a  sinner  as  exposed  to  the  curse  of  the  holy 
law,  and  destitute  of  every  plea  and  hope  in 
himself  Then  the  necessity  of  a  Redeemer, 
and  the  necessity  of  this  Redeemer's  being 
almighty,  is  seen  and  felt,  with  an  evidence 
which  bears  down  all  opposition ;  for  neither 
the  efficacy  of  his  atonement  and  interces- 
sion, nor  his  sufficiency  to  guide,  save,  pro- 
tect, and  feed  those  who  trust  in  him,  can 
be  conceived  of  without  it.  When  the  eyes 
of  the  understanding  are  opened,  the  soul 
made  acquainted  with  and  attentive  to  its 
own  state  and  wants,  he  that  runs  may  read 
this  truth,  not  in  a  few  detached  texts  of  a 
dubious  import,  and  liable  to  be  twisted  and 
tortured  by  the  arts  of  criticism,  but  as  inter- 
woven in  the  very  frame  and  texture  of  the 
Bible,  and  written,  as  with  a  sun-beam, 
throughout  the  principal  parts  both  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament.  If  Christ  be  the- 
shepherd  and  the  husband  of  his  people  under 
the  gospel,  and  if  his  coming  into  the  world 
did  not  abridge  those  who  feared  God  of  the 
privileges  they  were  entitled  to  before  his 
appearance,  it  follows,  by  undeniable  conse- 
quence, "that  he  is  God  over  all,  blessed 
for  ever."  For  David  tells  us,  that  his  shep- 
herd was  Jehovah  ;  and  the  husband  of  the 
Old  Testament  church  was  the  Maker  and 
God  of  the  whole  earth,  the  Holy  One  of  Is- 
rael, whose  name  is  the  I^rd  of  Hosts,  Psalm 
xxiii.  1 ;  Is.  liv.  8,  with  xlvii.  4.  I  airree 
with  you,  madam,  that  among  the  many  at- 
tempts which  have  been  made  to  prove  and 
illustrate  the  scripture  doctrine,  that  \he  Fa- 
ther, the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  are  one 
God,  there  have  been  many  injudicious,  un- 
warrantable  things  advanced,  which  have- 


LET    II. 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


?in 


porploxod,  instiid  of  instnictinjj',  and  of 
wliicli  tluMMiomitvs  of  tlu?  Irutli  Ikiv(»  known 
how  to  muko  their  atlviintai^r.  Howovct, 
there  have  hoen  tnicts  u|H>n  these  sublime 
Bubj(>cti5,  which  have  been  writton  with  jndjr- 
nient  and  un  unction,  and,  I  believe,  attended 
with  a  blet:sini»'.  1  seem  to  prefer  iMr.  Jones's 
Kx)k  on  the  Trinity  to  any  I  have  seen,  be- 
cause he  does  little  more  than  state  some  of 
the  scrij)ture  evidence  for  it,  and  draws  his 
mferences  briefly  and  plainly ;  thoufjh  even 
he  has  admitted  a  few  texts,  which  may,  per- 
haps, be  thouirht  not  quite  full  to  the  jxiint; 
and  he  has  certainly  omitted  several  of  the 
most  express  and  stroni^cst  testimonies.  The 
best  and  happiest  proof  of  all,  that  tiiis  doc- 
trine is  true  in  itself,  and  true  to  us,  is  the 
experience  of  its  efiects.  They  who  know 
his  name  will  put  their  trust  in  him :  they 
wlio  are  rightly  impressed  with  his  astonish- 
inof  condescension  and  love,  in  emptying- 
himself,  and  submitting  to  the  death  of  the 
cross  for  our  sakes,  will  find  themselves  un- 
der a  sweet  constraint  to  love  him  again,  and 
will  feel  a  little  of  that  emotion  of  heart 
which  the  apostle  expresses  in  that  lively 
passage,  Gal.  vi.  14.  The  knowledge  of 
Christ  crucified,  like  Ithuriel's  spear,  re- 
moves the  false  appearance  by  which  we 
have  been  too  long  cheated,  and  shows  us  the 
men  and  the  things,  the  spirit,  customs,  and 
maxims  of  the  world,  in  their  just  light. 
Were  1  perfectly  master  of  myself  and  my 
subject,  I  would  never  adduce  any  text  in 
proof  of  a  doctrine  or  assertion  from  the  pul- 
pit, which  was  not  direct  and  conclusive; 
because,  if  a  text  is  pressed  into  an  argument 
to  which  it  has  no  proper  relation,  it  rather 
encumbers  than  supports  it,  and  raises  a  sus- 
picion that  the  cause  is  weak,  and  better 
testimonies  in  its  favour  cannot  be  obtained. 
Some  misapplications  of  this  kind  have  been 
so  long  in  use,  that  they  pass  pretty  current, 
though,  if  brougiit  to  the  assay,  they  would 
be  found  not  quite  sterling  :  but  I  endeavour 
to  avoid  them  to  the  best  of  my  judgment. 
Thus,  for  instance,  I  have  often  heard  (Rom. 
xiv,  23,)  "  Whatever  is  not  of  faith  is  sin," 
quoted  to  prove,  that  without  a  principle  of 
saving  faith,  we  can  perform  nothing  accept- 
able to  God :  whereas  it  seems  clear  from  the 
context,  that  faith  is  there  used  in  another 
sense,  and  signifies  a  firm  persuasion  of  mind 
respecting  the  lawfulness  of  the  action. 
However,  T  doubt  not  but  the  proposition  in 
itself  is  strictly  true  in  the  other  sen?e,  if 
considered  detached  from  the  connexion  in 
which  it  stands ;  but  I  should  rather  choose 
to  prove  it  from  other  pasv^aores,  where  it  is 
directly  affirmed,  as  Heb.  xi.  6 ;  Matth.  xii. 
33.  In  such  cases,  I  think  hearers  should  be 
careful  not  to  be  prejudiced  against  a  doc- 
trine, merely  because  it  is  not  well  sup- 
ported: for  perhaps  it  is  capable  of  solid  proof, 
though  the  preacher  was  not  so  happy  as  to 
2P 


hit  upon  that  which  wa.s  mopt  Buitahle;  and 
oxtem|)ore  preachers  tuny  soinetiiiH'M  Un^te 
i'nra.  little  allowance  ufKin  this  hrad  from  Iho 
more  candid  |)art  of  their  auditt)ry,  and  not 
be  matle  cirenders  for  an  inadvertence,  which 
t.'iey  cannot  perhajw  always  avi>id  in  tho 
hurry  of  speaking.  With  respect  to  the  ap- 
plication of  some  pa.'ssages  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment to  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  I  hold  it  .safest 
to  keep  close  to  the  specimens  the  apostles 
have  given  us,  and  1  would  venture  with 
caution,  if  I  go  beyond  their  line;  yet  it  is 
probable  they  iiave  only  given  us  a  specimen; 
and  that  ther;  are  a  great  number  of  pas- 
sa^jcs  which  have  a  direct  reference  to  go.s- 
pel-truths,  though  we  may  run  some  hazard 
in  making  out  the  allusion.  If  St.  Paul  had 
not  gone  before  me,  I  should  have  hesitated 
to  assert,  that  the  prohibition,  "Thou  shalt 
not  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the  corn,'* 
was  given,  not  upon  the  account  if  oxen,  but 
altogether  tor  our  sakes:  nor  should  I,  with- 
out his  assistance,  have  found  out  that  the 
history  of  Sarah  and  Ilagar  was  a  designed 
allegory,  to  set  forth  the  difference  between 
the  law  and  gospel  covenants.  Therefore, 
when  I  hear  ministers  tracing  some  ether 
allusions,  I  cannot  be  always  sure  that  they 
push  them  too  far,  though  perhaps  they  are 
not  quite  satisfactory  to  my  judgment ;  for  it 
rnay  be,  they  have  a  fartlier  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  these  places  than  myself.  And  I 
think  scriptures  may  be  sometimes  used  to 
advantage,  by  way  of  accommodation,  in  po- 
pular discourses,  and  in  something  of  a  dif- 
ferent sense  from  what  they  bear  in  the 
place  where  they  stand,  provided  they  are 
not  alleged  as  proofs,  but  only  to  illustrate 
a  truth  already  proved  or  acknowledged. 
Though  Job's  friends  and  Job  himself  were 
mistaken,  there  are  many  great  truths  in 
their  speeches,  which,  as  such,  may,  I  think, 
stand  as  t!ie  foundation  of  a  discourse.  Nay, 
I  either  have,  or  have  often  intended,  to 
borrow  a  truth  even  from  the  mouth  of  Satan, 
"  Ilast  thou  not  set  a  hedge  about  him  ]'* 
Such  a  confession  extorted  from  our  grand 
adversary,  placing  the  safety  of  the  Lord's 
people,  under  his  providential  care,  in  a  very 
striking  light. 

I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  madam,  that 
our  religious  sensations  and  exercises  are 
much  influenced  and  tinctured  by  natural 
constitution  ;  and  that,  therefore,  tears  and 
warm  emotions  on  the  one  hand,  or  a  com- 
parative dryness  of  spirit  on  the  other,  are 
no  sure  indications  of  the  real  state  of  the 
heart.  Appearances  may  agree  in  different 
persons,  or  vary  in  the  same  person,  from 
causes  merely  natural :  even  a  change  of 
weather  may  have  some  influence  in  raising- 
or  depressing  the  spirits,  where  the  nerves 
are  very  delicate  ;  and  I  think  such  persona 
are  more  susceptive  of  impressions  from  the- 
agency  of  invisible  powers,  both  good  and' 


298 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  in. 


h 


evil ;  an  agency  which,  though  we  cannot 
explain,  experience  will  not  permit  us  to 
deny.  However,  though  circumstantials  rise 
and  fall,  the  real  difference  between  nature 
and  grace  remains  unalterable.  That  work 
of  God  upon  the  heart,  which  is  sometimes 
called  a  new  birth,  at  others  a  new  creation, 
is  as  distant  from  the  highest  effects  of  na- 
tural principles,  or  the  most  specious  imita- 
tions which  education  or  resolutions  can  pro- 
duce, as  light  is  from  darlftiess,  or  life  from 
death.  Only  he  who  made  the  world  can 
either  make  a  christian,  or  support  and  carry 
on  his  own  w'ork.  A  thirst  after  God  as  our 
portion,  a  delight  in  Jesus,  as  the  only  way 
and  door ;  a  renunciation  of  self  and  of  the 
world,  so  far  as  it  is  opposite  to  the  spirit  of 
the  gospel ;  these,  and  the  like  fruits  of  that 
grace,  which  bringeth  salvation,  are  not  only 
beyond  the  power  of  our  fallen  nature,  but 
contrary  to  its  tendency  ;  so  that  we  can  have 
no  desires  of  this  kind  till  they  are  given  us 
from  above,  and  can  for  a  season  hardly  bear 
to  hear  them  spoken  of,  either  as  excellent 
or  necessary. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  III. 

September  17,  1776. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — We  are  much  indebt- 
ed to  you  for  your  kind  thoughts  of  us. 
Hitherto  I  feel  no  uneasiness  about  what  is 
before  me;  but  I  am  afraid  my  tranquillity 
does  not  wholly  spring  from  trust  in  the 
Lord,  and  submission  to  his  will,  but  that  a 
part  of  it  at  least  is  derived  from  the  assur- 
ances Mr.  W.  gave  me,  tiiat  the  operation 
would  be  neither  difficult  nor  dangerous.  I 
have  not  much  of  the  hero  in  my  constitu- 
tion :  if  in  great  pains  or  sharp  trials  I  should 
ever  show  a  becoming  fortitude,  it  must  be 
given  me  from  above.  I  desire  to  leave  all 
with  him,  in  whose  hands  my  ways  are,  and 
who  has  promised  me  strength  according  to 
my  day. 

I  rejoice  that  the  Lord  has  not  only  made 
you  desirous  of  being  useful  to  others  in  their 
spiritual  concerns,  but  has  given  you  in  some 
instances,  to  see  that  your  desires  and  at- 
tempts have  not  been  in  vain.  I  shall  thank- 
fully accept  of  the  commission  you  are 
pleased  to  offer  me,  and  take  a  pleasure  in 
perusing  any  papers  you  may  think  proper 
to  put  into  my  hands,  and  offer  you  my  sen- 
timents with  that  simplicity  which  I  am  per- 
suaded will  be  much  more  agreeable  to  you 
than  compliments.  Though  I  know  there 
is  in  general  a  delicacy  and  difficulty  in  ser- 
vices of  this  kind,  yet,  with  respect  to  your- 
self, I  seem  to  have  nothing  to  tear. 

I  have  oflen  wished  we  had  more  female 
pens  employed  in  the  service  of  the  sanctuary. 
Though   few  ladies  encumber    themselves 


with  the  apparatus  of  Latin  or  Greek,  or  en 
gage  in  voluminous  performances,  yet,  in 
the  article  of  essay-writing,  I  think  many 
are  qualified  to  succeed  better  than  most 
men,  having  a  peculiar  easiness  of  style, 
which  few  of  us  can  imitate.  I  remember 
you  once  showed  me  a  paper,  together  with 
the  corrections  and  alterations  proposed  by  a 
gentleman  whose  opinion  you  had  asked.  I 
thought  his  corrections  had  injured  it,  and 
given  it  an  air  of  stiflliess,  which  is  often 
observable  when  learned  men  write  in  Eng- 
lish. Grammatical  rules,  as  they  are  call- 
ed, are  wholly  derived  from  the  mode  of 
speaking  or  writing  which  obtains  amongst 
those  who  best  undersand  the  language,  for 
the  language  must  be  supposed  established 
before  any  grammar  can  be  made  for  it ;  and 
therefore  w-omen,  who,  from  the  course  of 
their  education  and  life,  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  reading  the  best-written  books,  and 
conversing  with  those  who  speak  well,  though 
they  do  not  burden  themselves  w  ith  the  for- 
mality of  grammar,  have  often  more  skill  in 
the  English  language  than  the  men  who  can 
call  every  figure  of  speech  by  a  Latin  or 
Greek  name.  You  may  be  sure,  madam,  I 
shall  not  wish  your  papers  suppressed,  merely 
because  they  were  not  written  by  a  learned 
man.  Language  and  style,  however,  are 
but  the  dress.  Trifles,  however  adorned,  are 
trifles  still.  A  person  of  spiritual  discern- 
ment would  rather  be  the  author  of  one  page 
written  in  the  humble  garb  of  Bunyan,  upon 
a  serious  subject,  than  to  be  able  to  rival  the 
sprightliness  and  elegance  of  Lady  M.  W. 
Montague,  unless  it  could  be  wath  a  view  to 
edification.  The  subjects  you  propose  are 
important ;  and,  with  respect  to  sacramental 
meditations,  and  all  devotional  exercises  so 
called,  I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  that  to  be 
affecting  and  useful,  they  must  be  dictated 
rather  by  the  heart  than  by  the  head,  and 
are  most  likely  to  influence  others  when  they 
are  the  fruits  and  transcripts  of  our  own  ex- 
perience. So  far  as  I  know,  we  are  but 
scantily  provided  with  specimens  of  this  sorL 
in  print,  and  therefore  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
an  accession  to  the  public  stock.  Your  other 
thought  of  helps  to  recollection  on  Saturday 
evenings  is,  I  think,  an  attempt  in  which 
none  have  been  beforehand  with  you.  So 
that,  according  to  the  general  appearance,  I 
feel  myself  disposed  to  encourage  you  to  do 
as  you  have  purposed.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  I  meet  with  any  thing,  on  the  perusal  of 
the  papers,  which  in  my  view  may  seem  to 
need  alteration,  I  will  freely  and  faithfully 
point  it  out. 

I  can  almost  smile  now,  to  think  you  once 
classed  me  amongst  the  Stoics.  If  I  dare 
speak  with  confidence  of  myself  in  any  thing, 
I  think  I  may  lay  claim  to  a  little  of  that  pleas- 
ing, painful  thing,  sensibility.  I  need  not 
boast  of  it,   for   it  has  too  oflen  been  my 


LET.   IV.] 


i.i':T'ri:its  to  miis. 


299 


snaro,  my  sin,  nivl  my  piinislimpnt.  Yet  I 
would  bo  tluinktul  for  u  spire  of  it,  n^  the 
Ixml's  ^/\\\  lunl  whon  riirlitly  exercised,  it 
is  vuhiaMe  ;  and  I  tliiiik  1  should  make  hut 
an  awkward  ministiT  without  it,  especially 
here.  Where  there  is  this  sensibility  in 
tlie  natural  temper,  it  will  irive  a  tincture 
or  cast  to  our  reliiritms  e.xpression.  Indeed 
I  often  find  this  sensibility  weakest  where  it 
eliould  be  stroniX(\-<t,  and  have  reason  to  re- 
pnxicli  myself  that  1  am  not  more  atlected 
by  the  character,  love,  and  sufferinn-s  of  my 
Ijord  and  Saviour,  and  my  own  j>eculiar  per- 
sonal obli^rations  to  him.  However,  my 
views  of  relig-ion  have  been  such  for  many 
years,  as  I  supposed  more  likely  to  make  me 
be  deemed  an  enthusiast  than  a  stoic.  A 
moonlight  head-knowledge  derived  from  a 
system  of  sentiments,  however  true  in  them- 
selves, is  in  my  judgment  a  poor  thing;  nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  am  I  an  admirer  of  those 
rapturous  sallies,  which  are  more  owing  to  a 
warm  imagination  than  to  a  just  perception 
of  the  power  and  importance  of  gospel-truth. 
The  gospel  addresses  both  head  and  heart ; 
and,  where  it  has  its  proper  effect,  where  it 
is  received  as  the  word  of  God,  and  is  clothed 
with  the  authority  and  energy  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  the  understanding  is  enlightened,  the 
affections  awakened  and  engaged,  the  will 
brought  into  subjection,  and  the  whole  soul 
delivered  to  its  impression,  as  wax  to  the  seal. 
When  this  is  the  case,  when  the  affections  do 
not  take  the  lead,  and  push  forward  with  a 
blind  impulse,  but  arise  from  the  principles  of 
scripture,  and  are  governed  by  them,  the  more 
warmth  the  better.  Yet  in  this  state  of  in- 
firmity nothing  is  perfect,  and  our  natural 
temperament  and  disposition  will  have  more 
influence  upon  our  religious  sensations  than 
we  are  ordinarily  aware.  It  is  well  to  know 
how  to  make  proper  allowances  and  abate- 
ments upon  this  head,  in  the  judgment  we 
form  both  of  ourselves  and  of  others.  Many 
good  people  are  distressed  and  alternately 
elated  by  frames  and  feelings,  which  perhaps 
are  more  constitutional  than  properly  re- 
ligions experiences.  I  dare  not  tell  you, 
madam,  what  I  am,  but  I  can  tell  you  what 
I  wish  to  be.  The  love  of  God,  as  manifest- 
ed in  Jesus  Christ,  is  what  I  would  wish  to 
be  the  abiding  object  of  my  contemplation ; 
not  merely  to  speculate  upon  it  as  a  doctrine, 
but  so  feel  it,  and  my  own  interest  in  it,  as 
to  have  my  heart  filled  with  its  effects,  and 
transformed  into  its  resemblance  ;  that  with 
this  glorious  exemplar  in  my  view,  I  may  be 
animated  to  a  spirit  of  benevolence,  love,  and 
compassion  to  all  around  me ;  tliat  my  love 
may  be  primarily  fixed  upon  him  who  has  so 
loved  me,  and  then,  for  his  sake,  diffused  to 
all  his  children,  and  to  all  his  creatures. 
Then,  knowing  that  much  is  forgiven  to  me, 
I  should  be  prompted  to  the  ready  exercise 
of  forgiveness,   if  I    have    aught   against 


any.  Then  I  hhould  l)o  huinblo,  patient,  and 
submissive  under  all  his  dinpirnsationn,  im-ek, 
g«'nlle,  forbearing,  and  kind  to  my  ftdlow- 
worn)s.  'J'hen  1  should  be  active  und  ddi- 
gent  in  improving  all  my  talents  and  iK)wer» 
in  his  service,  and  lor  his  glory,  and  live  not 
to  myself,  but  to  him  who  loved  me,  and  gavo 
himself  tor  me. — I  am,  &ic. 


LETTER  IV. 

November  29,  1770. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  am  persuaded  you 
need  not  to  be  told,  that  though  there  are  per- 
haps sup{)osable  extremities,  in  which  self 
would  prevail  over  all  considerations,  yet  ia 
general  it  is  more  easy  to  suffer  in  our  own 
persons  than  in  the  persons  of  those  whom 
we  dearly  love ;  for  through  such  a  medium 
our  apprehensions  possibly  receive  the  idea 
of  the  trouble  enlarged  beyond  its  just  di- 
mensions, and  it  would  sit  lighter  upon  us  if 
it  were  properly  our  own  case,  for  then  we 
should  feel  it  all,  and  there  would  be  no  room 
for  imagination  to  exaggerate. 

But  though  I  feel  grief,  I  trust  the  liOrd 
has  mercifully  preserved  me  from  impatience 
and  murmuring,  and  that,  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  pleadings  of  flesh  and  blood,  there  is 
a  something  within  me  that  aims  to  say,  with- 
out reserve  or  exception,  "  Not  my  will,  but 
thine  be  done." 

It  is  a  comfortable  consideration,  that  he 
with  whom  we  have  to  do,  our  great  High- 
priest,  who  once  put  away  our  sins  by  the 
sacrifice  of  himself,  and  now  fi)r  ever  appears 
in  the  presence  of  God  for  us,  is  not  only 
possessed  of  sovereign  authority  and  infinite 
power,  but  wears  our  very  nature,  and  feels 
and  exercises  in  the  highest  degree  those 
tendernesses  and  commiserations  which  I 
conceive  are  essential  to  humanity  in  its  per- 
fect state.  The  whole  history  of  liis  wonder- 
ful life  is  full  of  inimitable  instances  of  this 
kind.  His  bowels  were  moved  before  his 
arm  was  exerted :  he  condescended  to  mino^le 
tears  with  mourners,  and  wept  over  dis- 
tresses which  he  intended  to  relieve.  He  is 
still  the  same  in  his  exalted  state :  compas- 
sions dwell  within  his  heart.  In  a  way  in- 
conceivable to  us,  but  consistent  with  his 
supreme  dignity  and  perfection  of  happiness 
and  glory,  he  still  feels  for  his  people.  When 
Saul  persecuted  the  members  upon  earth, 
the  Head  complained  from  heaven ;  and 
sooner  shall  the  most  tender  mother  sit  in- 
sensible and  inattentive  to  the  cries  and 
wants  of  her  infant,  than  the  Lord  Jesus  be 
an  unconcerned  spectator  of  his  suffering 
children-  No !  with  the  eye,  and  the  ear, 
and  the  heart  of  a  friend,  he  attends  to  their 
sorrows;  he  counts  their  sighs,  puts  their 
tears  in  his  bottle ;  and,  when  our  spirits,  are 


300 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  v. 


overwhelmed  within  us,  he  knows  our  path, 
and  adjusts  the  time,  the  measure  of  our 
trials,  and  every  thin;^  that  is  necessary  for 
our  present  support  and  seasonable  deliver- 
ance, witli  tlie  same  unerring  wisdom  and 
accuracy  as  he  weiji^hod  the  mountains  in 
scales,  and  hills  in  a  balance,  and  meted  out 
the  heavens  with  a  span.  Still  more,  besides 
liis  benevolent,  he  has  an  experimental  sym- 
patiiy.  He  knows  our  sorrows,  not  merely 
as  he  knows  all  things,  but  as  one  who  has 
been  in  our  situation,  and  who  though  with- 
out sin  himself,  endured,  when  upon  earth, 
inexpressibly  more  for  us  than  he  will  ever 
lay  upon  us.  He  has  sanctified  poverty, 
pain,  disgrace,  temptation,  and  death,  by  pass- 
ing through  these  states;  and,  in  whatever 
states  his  people  are,  they  may  by  faith  have 
fellowship  with  him  in  their  sufferings,  and 
he  will,  by  sympathy  and  love,  have  fellow- 
ship and  interest  with  them  in  theirs.  What, 
then,  shall  we  fear,  or  of  what  shall  we  com- 
plain, when  all  our  concerns  are  written 
upon  his  heart,  and  their  management,  to 
the  very  hairs  of  our  head,  are  under  his  care 
and  providence ;  when  he  pities  us  more  than 
we  can  do  ourselves,  and  has  engaged  his  al- 
mighty power  to  sustain  and  relieve  us. 
However,  as  he  is  tender,  he  is  wise  also; 
he  loves  us,  but  especially  with  regard  to 
our  best  interests.  If  there  were  not  some- 
thing in  our  hearts  and  our  situation  that 
required  discipline  and  medicine,  he  so  de- 
lights in  our  prosperity  that  we  should  never 
be  in  heaviness.  The  innumerable  comforts 
and  mercies  with  which  he  enriches  even 
those  we  call  our  darker  days,  are  sufficient 
proofs  that  he  does  not  willingly  grieve  us ; 
but  when  he  sees  a  need-be  for  chastisement, 
he  will  not  withhold  it  because  he  loves  us; 
on  the  contrary,  that  is  the  very  reason  why 
he  afflicts.  He  will  put  his  silver  into  the 
fire  to  purify  it ;  but  he  sits  by  the  furnace 
as  a  refiner,  to  direct  the  process,  and  to  se- 
cure the  end  he  has  in  view,  that  we  may 
neither  suffer  too  much,  nor  suffer  in  vain. — 
I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  V. 

December  —  177G. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  havo  oftcu  proached 
to  others  of  the  benefit  of  affliction,  but  my 
own  path  for  many  years  has  been  so  smooth, 
and  my  trials,  though  I  have  not  been  without 
trials  comparatively  so  light  and  few,  that  I 
have  seemed  to  myself  to  speak  by  rote  upon 
a  subject  of  which  I  had  not  a  proper  feeling. 
Yet  the  many  exercises  of  my  poor  afflicted 
people,  and  the  sympathy  the  J^ord  has  given 
me  with  them  in  their  troubles,  has  made 
this  a  frequent  and  favourite  topic  of  my 
ministry  among  them.     The  advantages  of 


afflictions,  when  the  I^rd  is  pleased  to  employ 
them  for  the  good  of  his  people,  are  many 
and  great.  Permit  me  to  mention  a  few  of 
them,  and  the  Lord  grant  that  we  may  all 
find  those  blessed  ends  answered  to  ourselves, 
by  the  trials  he  is  pleased  to  appoint  us. 

Afflictions  quicken  us  to  prayer.  It  is  a 
pity  it  should  be  so.  Experience,  however^ 
testifies  that  a  long  course  of  ease  and  pros- 
perity, witliout  painful  changes,  has  an  un- 
liappy  tendency  to  make  us  cold  and  formal 
in  our  secret  worship,  but  troubles  rouse  our 
spirits,  and  constrain  us  to  call  upon  the 
Lord  in  good  earnest,  when  we  feel  a  need  of 
that  help  which  we  only  can  have  from  him. 

They  are  useful,  and  in  a  degree  neces- 
sary, to  keep  alive  in  us  a  convittion  of  the 
vanity  and  unsatisfying  nature  of  the  present 
world  and  all  its  enjoyments,  to  remind  ns 
that  this  is  not  our  rest,  and  to  call  our 
thoughts  upwards,  where  our  true  treasure 
is,  and  where  our  conversation  ought  to  be. 
When  things  go  on  much  to  our  wish,  our 
hearts  are  too  prone  to  say,  "  It  is  good  to  be 
here."  It  is  probable,  that  had  Moses,  when 
he  came  to  invite  Israel  to  Canaan  found  thern 
in  prosperity,  as  in  the  days  of  Josej)h,  they 
would  have  been  very  unwilling  to  remove; 
but  the  afflictions  they  were  previously 
brought  into  made  his  message  welcome. 
Thus  the  Lord,  by  pain,  sickness,  and  disap- 
pointments, by  breaking  our  cisterns,  and 
withering  our  gourds,  weakens  our  attach- 
ment to  this  world,  and  makes  the  thought 
of  quitting  it  more  familiar  and  more  de- 
sirable. 

A  child  of  God  cannot  but  greatly  desire 
a  more  enlarged  and  experimental  acquaint- 
ance with  his  holy  word,  and  this  attainment 
is  greatly  promoted  by  our  trials.  The  far 
greater  part  of  the  promises  in  scripture  are 
made  and  suited  to  a  state  of  affliction ;  and 
though  we  may  believe  they  are  true,  we 
cannot  so  well  know  their  sweetness,  power, 
and  suitableness,  unless  we  ourselves  are  in 
a  state  to  which  they  refer.  The  Lord  says, 
"  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  I 
will  deliver."  Now  till  the  day  of  trouble 
comes,  such  a  promise  is  like  a  city  of  refuge 
to  an  Israelite,  who,  not  having  slain  a  man, 
was  in  no  danger  of  the  avenger  of  blood. 
He  had  a  privilege  near  him,  of  which  he 
knew  not  the  use  and  value,  because  he  was 
not  in  the  case  for  which  it  was  provided. 
But  some  can  say,  I  not  only  believe  this 
promise  upon  the  authority  of  the  speaker, 
but  I  can  set  my  seal  to  it ;  I  have  been  in 
trouble ;  I  took  this  course  for  relief,  and  I 
was  not  disappomted.  The  Lord  verily 
heard  and  delivered  me.  Thus  afflictions 
likewise  give  occasion  of  our  knowing  and 
noticing  more  of  the  Lord's  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness,  in  suppc^rting  and  relieving, 
than  we  should  otherwise  have  known. 

I  have  not  time  to  take  another  sheet,  and 


urr.  VI.] 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


301 


■lust  therefore  contract  my  lioinily.  Alllio 
tioris  evidonco  to  ourselves,  and  MJiiuifest  to 
Others,  the  reality  of  fjrace.  And  when  we 
gutter  as  christians,  exercise  some  measure  of 
that  patience  and  submission,  and  receive 
some  measure  of  these  supjwrts  and  sui)|)lies 
which  the  j:fospel  requires  and  promises  to 
believers,  we  are  more  confirmed  that  we 
have  not  taken  up  with  mere  notions;  and 
others  may  bo  convinced,  that  we  do  not 
follow  cunnin<i;-ly  devised  fables.  They  like- 
wise strengthen  by  exorcise  our  frracea.  As 
our  limbs  and  natural  powers  would  be  fee- 
ble if  not  called  to  daily  exertion  ;  so  tiie 
graces  of  the  Spirit  would  lanf]^uish,  unless 
something'  was  provided  to  draw  thorn  out  to 
use.  And,  to  say  no  more,  they  are  honour- 
able as  they  advance  our  conformity  to  Jesus 
our  Lord,  who  was  a  man  of  sorrows  for  our 
sakes.  Methinks,  if  we  might  go  to  heaven 
without  suffering,  wo  sliould  be  unwilling  to 
desire  it.  Why  should  we  ever  wish  to  go 
by  any  other  path  than  that  which  he  has 
consecrated  and  endeared  by  his  own  exam- 
ple 1  especially  as  his  people's  sufferings  are 
not  penal ;  there  is  no  wrath  in  them ;  the 
cup  he  puts  in  their  hands  is  very  different 
from  that  which  he  drank  for  their  sakos,  and 
IS  only  medicinal  to  promote  their  chief  good. 
Here  I  must  stop;  but  the  subject  is  fruitful, 
and  might  be  pursued  through  a  quire  of  pa- 
per.— I  am,  &LC. 


LETTER  VL 

August  —  1778. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, —  Your  obliging  favour 

of  the  22d  from  B ,  which  I  received  last 

night,  demands  an  immediate  acknowledg- 
ment. Many  things  which  would  have  of- 
fered by  way  of  answer,  must  for  the  present 
be  postponed ;  for  the  same  post  brought  an 
information  which  turns  my  thoughts  to  one 
subject.  What  shall  I  say  ?  Topics  of  con- 
solation are  at  hand  in  abundance;  they  are 
familiar  to  your  mind ;  and  were  I  to  till  the 
sheet  with  them  I  could  suggest  nothing  but 
what  you  already  know.  Then  are  they 
consolatory  indeed,  when  the  Lord  himself 
is  pleased  to  apply  them  to  the  heart.  This  he 
has  promised,  and  therefore,  we  are  encou- 
raged to  expect  it.  This  is  my  prayer  for 
you :  I  sincerely  sympathize  with  you ;  I 
cannot  comfort  you ;  but  he  can ;  and  I  trust 
he  will.  How  impertinent  would  it  be  to 
advise  you  to  forget  or  suspend  the  feelings 
which  such  a  stroke  must  excite !  Who  can 
help  feeling !  nor  is  sensibility  in  itself  sinful. 
Cliristian  resignation  is  very  different  from 
that  stoical  stubbornness,  which  is  most  easily 
practised  by  those  unamiable  characters  whose 
regards  centre  wholly  in  self;  nor  could  we 
jji  a  proper  manner  exercise  submission  to  the 


will  of  God  under  our  trialfl,  if  we  did  not  feci 
them.  He  who  knows  our  frunie  is  plraiied 
to  allow,  that  atlliclions  for  the  pre'sent  nrr  not 
joyous,  but  grievous.  But  to  them  that  foar 
him  he  is  near  at  hand,  to  Hup|)ort  their  spir'ta, 
to  mixlerate  their  grief,  and  in  the  iKsue  to 
sanctify  it;  so  that  they  shall  come  out  of  the 
furnace  retined,  more  humble,  and  more  spi- 
ritual. There  is,  however,  a  part  assigned 
us;  we  are  to  pray  for  the  help  in  need  ;  and 
we  are  not  wilfully  to  give  way  to  the  im- 
pression of  overwhelming  sorrow.  We  are 
to  endeavour  to  turn  our  thoughts  to  such 
considerations  as  arc  suited  to  alleviate  it; 
our  deserts  as  sinners,  the  many  mercies  we 
are  still  indulged  with,  the  still  greater 
afflictions  which  many  of  our  fellow-creatures 
endure,  and  above  all,  the  sufferings  of  Jesus, 
that  man  of  sorrows,  who  made  himself  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  grief  for  our  sakes. 

When  the  will  of  the  Lord  is  manifested 
to  us  by  the  event,  we  are  to  look  to  him  for 
grace  and  strength,  and  to  be  still  and  know 
that  he  is  God,  that  he  has  a  right  to  dispose 
of  us  and  ours  as  he  pleases,  and  that  in  the 
exercise  of  this  right  he  is  most  certainly  good 
and  wise.  We  oflen  complain  of  losses;  but 
the  expression  is  rather  improper.  Strictly 
speaking,  we  can  lose  nothing,  because  wc 
have  no  real  property  in  any  thing.  Our 
earthly  comforts  are  lent  us,  and  when  recall- 
ed, we  ought  to  return  and  resign  them  with 
thankfulness  to  him  who  has  let  them  re- 
main so  long  in  our  hands.  But,  as  I  said 
above,  I  do  not  mean  to  enlarge  in  this  strain ; 
I  hope  the  Lord,  the  only  Comforter  will 
bring  such  thoughts  with  warmth  and  efficacy 
upon  your  mind.  Your  wound,  while  fresh, 
is  painful ;  but  faith,  prayer,  and  time  will, 
I  trust,  gradually  render  it  tolerable.  There 
is  something  fascinating  in  grief:  painful  as 
it  is,  we  are  prone  to  indulge  it,  and  to  brood 
over  the  thoughts  and  circumstances  which 
are  suited  (like  fuel  to  fire)  to  heighten  and 
prolong  it.  When  the  Lord  afflicts,  it  is  his 
design  that  we  should  grieve ;  but  in  this,  as 
in  all  other  things  there  is  a  certain  modera- 
tion which  becomes  a  christian,  and  which 
only  grace  can  teach ;  and  grace  teaches  us, 
not  by  books  or  by  hearsay,  but  by  experi- 
mental lessons :  all  beyond  this  should  be 
avoided  and  guarded  against  as  sinful  and 
hurtful.  Grief,  when  indulged  and  excessive, 
preys  upon  the  spirits,  injures  health,  indis- 
poses us  for  duty,  and  causes  us  to  shod  tears 
which  deserve  more  tears.  This  is  a  weep- 
ing world.  Sin  has  filled  it  with  thorns  and 
briars,  with  crosses  and  calamities.  It  is  a 
great  hospital,  resounding  with  groans  in 
every  quarter.  It  is  as  a  field  of  battle, 
where  many  are  falling  around  us  continual- 
ly ;  and  it  is  more  wonderful  that  we  escape 
so  well,  than  that  we  are  sometimes  wounded. 
We  must  have  some  share ;  it  is  the  up.avoid- 
able  lot  of  our  nature  and  state.    It  is  like- 


802 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  VII. 


•wise  needful  in  point  of  discipline  :  the  Lord 
will  certainly  cimsten  those  whom  he  loves, 
thoiifjh  others  may  seem  to  pass  for  a  time 
with  impunity.  That  is  a  sweet,  instructive, 
and  important  passagfe,  Ileh.  xii.  5.  11.  It 
is  so  plain,  tiiat  it  needs  no  comment;  so  full 
that  a  comment  would  but  weaken  it.  May 
the  Ix)rd  inscribe  it  upon  your  heart,  my  dear 
madam,  and  upon  mine. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VII. 

November  —  1778. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Your  obliging  favour 
raised  in  me  a  variety  of  emotions  when  1 
first  received  it,  and  has  revived  them  this 
morning  while  perusing  it  again.  I  have 
mourned  and  rejoiced  with  you,  and  felt 
pain  and  pleasure  in  succession,  as  you  di- 
versified the  subject.  However,  the  weight 
of  your  grief  I  was  willing  to  consider  as  a 
thing  that  is  past ;  and  the  thought  that  you 
had  been  mercifully  supported  under  it,  and 
brought  through  it,  that  you  were  restored 
home  in  safety,  and  that  the  time  of  writing 
you  were  tolerably  well  and  composed,  made 
joy  upon  the  whole  preponderate,  and  1  am 
more  disposed  to  congratulate  you,  and  join 
you  in  praising  the  Lord  for  the  mercies  you 
enumerate,  than  to  prolong  my  condolence 
upon  the  mournful  parts  of  your  letter.  Re- 
peated trying  occasions  have  made  me  well 
acquainted  with  the  anxious  inquiries  with 
which  the  busy  poring  mind  is  apt  to  pursue 
departed  friends.  It  can  hardly  be  other- 
wise under  some  circumstances.  I  have 
found  prayer  the  best  relief  I  have  thought 
it  very  allowable  to  avail  myself  to  the  ut- 
most of  every  favourable  consideration;  but 
I  have  had  the  most  comfort,  when  I  have  | 
been  enabled  to  resign  the  whole  concern 
into  his  hands,  whose  thoughts  and  w'ays, 
whose  power  and  goodness,  are  infinitely  su- 
perior to  our  conceptions.  I  consider,  in 
such  cases,  that  the  great  Redeemer  can 
save  to  the  uttermost,  and  the  great  teacher 
can  communicate  light,  and  impress  truth, 
when  and  how  he  pleases.  I  trust  the  power 
of  his  grace  and  compassion  will  hereafter 
triumphantly  appear,  in  many  instances,  of 
persons,  who,  on  their  dying  beds,  and  in 
their  last  moments,  have  been,  by  his  mercy, 
constrained  to  feel  the  importance  and  reality 
of  truths,  which  they  did  not  properly  under- 
stand and  attend  to  in  the  hour  of  liealth  and 
prosperity.  Such  a  salutary  change  I  have 
frequently,  or  at  least  more  than  once,  twice 
or  tiirice,  been  an  eye-witness  to,  accompa- 
nied with  such  evidence  as,  I  think,  has  been 
quite  satisfactory.  And  who  can  say  such  a 
change  may  not  often  take  place,  when  the 
person  who  is  the  subject  of  it  is  too  much 
enfeebled  to  give  an  account  to  by-standcrs 


of  what  is  transacting  in  his  mind  !  Thus  1 
have  encouraged  my  hope.  But  the  best 
satisfaction  of  all,  is  to  be  duly  impressed 
with  the  voice  that  says,  "  Be  still,  and  know 
tiiat  I  am  God."  These  words  direct  us, 
not  only  to  his  sovereignty,  his  undoubted 
right  to  do  what  he  will  with  his  own,  but  to 
all  his  adorable  and  amiable  perfections,  by 
which  he  has  manifested  liimself  to  us  in  the 
Son  of  his  love. 

As  I  am  not  a  Sadducee ;  the  account  you 
give  of  the  music  which  entertained  you  on 
the  road  does  not  put  my  dependence  either 
upon  your  veracity  or  your  judgment  to  any 
trial.  We  live  upon  the  confines  of  the  in- 
visible world,  or  rather  perhaps  in  the  midst 
of  it.  That  unseen  agents  have  a  power  of 
operating  upon  our  minds,  at  least  upon  that 
mysterious  faculty  we  call  the  imagination, 
is  with  me  not  merely  a  point  of  opinion,  or 
even  of  laith,  but  of  experience.  That  evil 
spirits,  can,  when  permitted,  disturb,  distress, 
and  defile  us,  I  know,  as  well  as  I  know  that 
the  fire  can  burn  me.  And  though  their  in- 
terposition  is  perhaps  more  easily  and  cer- 
tainly distinguishable,  yet,  from  analogy,  I  con- 
clude that  good  spirits  are  equally  willing,  and 
equally  able,  to  employ  their  kind  offices  for 
our  relief  and  comfort.  I  have  formed  in 
my  mind  a  kind  of  system  upon  this  subject, 
which  for  the  most  part  I  keep  pretty  much 
to  myself;  but  I  can  entrust  my  thoughts  to 
you  as  they  occasionally  offer.  I  apprehend 
that  some  persons  (those  particularly  who 
rank  under  the  class  of  nervous)  are  more 
open  and  accessible  to  these  impression?;  than 
others,  and  probably  the  same  person  more 
so  at  some  times  than  others.  And  though 
we  frequently  distinguish  between  imaginary 
and  real  (which  is  one  reason  why  nervous 
people  are  so  seldom  pitied,)  yet  an  impres- 
sion upon  the  imagination  may,  as  to  the 
agent  that  produces  it,  and  to  the  person  that 
receives  it,  be  as  much  a  reality  as  any  of 
the  sensible  objects  around  him ;  though  a 
by-stander,  not  being  able  to  share  in  the 
perception,  may  account  it  a  mere  whim,  and 
suppose  it  might  be  avoided  or  removed  by 
an  act  of  the  will.  Nor  have  any  a  right  to 
withhold  their  assent  to  what  the  scriptures 
teach,  and  many  sober  persons  declare,  of 
this  invisible  agency,  merely  because  we 
cannot  answer  the  questions,  How  ?  or  Why  ? 
The  thing  may  be  certain,  though  we  can- 
not easily  explain  it ;  and  there  may  be  just 
and  important  reasons  for  it,  though  we 
should  not  be  able  to  assign  them.  If  what 
you  heard,  or  which,  in  my  view,  is  m.uch 
the  same,  what  you  thought  you  heard,  had  a 
tendency  to  compose  your  spirit,  and  to  encou- 
rage your  application  to  the  Lord  tor  help,  at 
the  time  \vhen  you  were  about  to  stand  in 
need  of  especial  assistance,  then  there  is  a 
sufficient  and  suitable  reason  assigned  for  it 
at  once,  without  looking  any  farther.    It 


LET    fll.] 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


ao8 


would  be  danf]rorouH  to  make  impressions 
a  rule  of  duty ;  but  if  tlioy  ytrenji^thon  us, 
and  assist  us  in  tho  perfonnanco  of  wliat  we 
know  to  bo  our  duty,  we  may  betliankful  for 
tiietn. 

Vou  have  taken  leave  of  your  favourite 
trees,  and  the  scenes  of  your  youn^^er  life, 
but  a  few  years  sooner  than  you  must  have 
done,  if  the  late  dispensation  had  not  taken 
place.  All  must  be  left  soon  ;  for  all  below 
is  fiolluted,  an:l,  in  its  best  state,  is  too  scanty 
to  atlbrd  us  happiness.  If  we  are  believers 
in  Jesus,  all  we  can  quit  is  a  mere  nothing, 


compared  with  what  wo  shall  obtam.  To  ex- 
chauf^e  a  dunj^eon  for  a  palace,  earth  tor  hea- 
ven, will  call  for  no  s<.'lf-<lenial  when  we  stand 
upon  the  threshold  of  eternity,  and  shall  havo 
a  clearer  view  than  we  have  now  of  the  va- 
nity of  what  is  [)assin^  from  us,  an<l  the  jflory 
of  what  is  before  us.  The  partial  chan<,'<'s  wo 
meet  with  in  our  way  throu^ifh  life  are  de- 
sijrned  to  remind  ns  of,  and  prepare  us  for, 
tlie  f^reat  chanj^e  which  awaits  us  at  the  end 
of  it.  The  Lord  f];-rant  that  we  may  find 
mercy  of  the  Lord  in  tliat  solemn  hour. — I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTERS 

TO  MRS.  T 


LETTER  I. 

March  1%177A. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — My  heart  is  full,  yet  I 
must  restrain  it.  Many  thoughts  which 
crowd  my  mind,  and  would  have  vent,  were 
I  writing-  to  another  person,  would  to  you  be 
unseasonable.  I  write,  not  to  remind  you  of 
what  you  have  lost,  but  of  what  you  have, 
which  you  cannot  lose.  May  the  Lord  put 
a  word  into  my  heart  that  may  be  acceptable, 
and  may  his  good  Spirit  accompany  the  pe- 
rusal, and  enable  you  to  say,  wdth  the  apos- 
tle, that  as  sufferings  abound,  consolations 
also  abound  by  Jesus  Christ.  Indeed,  I  can 
sympathize  with  you.  I  remember,  too,  the 
delicacy  of  your  frame,  and  the  tenderness 
of  your  natural  spirits ;  so  that,  were  you  not 
interested  in  the  exceeding  great  and  preci- 
ous promises  of  the  gospel,  I  should  be  ready 
to  fear  you  must  sink  under  your  trial.  But 
I  have  some  faint  conceptions  of  the  all-suffi- 
ciency and  faithfulness  of  the  Lord,  and  may 
address  you  in  the  king's  words  to  Daniel, 
"  Thy  God,  whom  thou  servest  conthiually, 
he  will  deliver  thee."  Motives  for  resigna- 
tion to  his  will  abound  in  his  word ;  but  it  is 
an  additional  and  crowning  mercy,  that  he 
has  promised  to  apply  and  enforce  them  in 
time  of  need.  He  has  said,  "  My  grace  shall 
be  sufficient  for  thee ;"  and  "as  thy  day  is, 
so  shall  thy  strength  be."  This,  I  trust  you 
have  already  experienced.  The  Lord  is  so 
rich  and  so  good,  that  he  can,  by  a  glance  of 
thought,  compensate  his  children  for  what- 
ever his  wisdom  sees  fit  to  deprive  them  of 
If  he  gives  them  a  lively  sense  of  what  he 
has  delivered  them  from,  and  prepared  for 
them,  or  of  what  he  himself  submitted  to  en- 
dure for  their  sakes,  they  find  at  once  light 
springing  upout  of  darkness,  hard  things  be- 
come easy,  and  bitter  sweet.  I  remember 
to  have  read  of  a  good  man  in  the  last  cen- 
tury (probably  you  may  have  met  with  the 
story,)  who  when  his  beloved  and  only  son 
lay  ill,  was  for  some  time  greatly  anxious 
about  the  event.  One  morning  he  staid 
longer  than  usual  in  his  closet;  while  he 
was  there,  his  son  died.  When  he  came  out, 
his  family  were  afraid  to  tell  him,  but,  like 


David,  he  perceived  it  by  their  looks,  and 
when,  upon  inquiry,  they  said  it  was  so,  he 
received  the  news  with  a  composure  that 
surprised  them.  But  he  soon  explained  the 
reason,  by  telling  them,  that  for  such  dis- 
coveries of  the  Lord's  goodness  as  he  had 
been  favoured  with  that  morning,  he  could 
be  content  to  lose  a  son  every  day.  Yes, 
madam,  though  every  stream  must  fail,  the 
fountain  is  still  full,  and  still  flowing.  All 
the  comfort  you  ever  received  in  your  dear 
friend  was  from  the  Lord,  who  is  abundantly 
able  to  comfort  you  still ;  and  he  is  gone  but 
a  little  before  you.  May  your  faith  antici- 
pate the  joyful  and  glorious  meeting  you 
will  shortly  have  in  a  better  world.  Then 
your  worship  and  converse  together  will  be 
to  unspeakable  advantage,  without  imperfec- 
tion, interruption,  abatement,  or  end.  Then 
all  tears  shall  be  wiped  away,  and  every 
cloud  removed  ;  and  then  you  will  see,  that 
all  your  concernments  here  below  (the  late 
afflicting  dispensation  not  excepted,)  were 
appointed  and  adjusted  by  infinite  wisdom 
and  infinite  love. 

The  Lord,  who  knows  our  frame,  does  not 
expect  or  require  that  we  should  aim  at  a 
stoical  indifference  under  his  visitations.  He 
allows,  that  afflictions  are  at  present  not  joy- 
ous, but  grievous;  yea,  he  was  pleased,  when 
upon  earth,  to  weep  with  his  mourning 
friends  when  Lazarus  died.  But  he  has 
graciously  provided  for  the  prevention  of  that 
anguish  and  bitterness  of  sorrow,  which  is, 
upon  such  occasions,  the  portion  of  such  as 
live  without  God  in  the  w^orld ;  and  has  en- 
gaged that  all  shall  work  together  for  good, 
and  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness. May  he  bless  you  with  a  sweet  se- 
renity of  spirit,  and  a  cheerful  hope  of  the 
glory  that  shall  shortly  be  revealed. 

I  intimated  that  I  would  not  trouble  you 
with  my  own  sense  and  share  of  this  loss. 
If  you  remember  the  great  kindness  I  always 

received  from   Mr.  T and  yourself,  as 

often  as  opportunity  afforded,  and  if  you  will 
believe  me  possessed  of  any  sensibility  or 
gratitude,  you  will  conclude  that  my  concern 
is  not  small.  I  feel  likewise  for  the  public. 
Will  it  be  a  consolation  to  you,  madam,  to 


"1 


IJCTTKRS  TO  MRS.  T- 


805 


Itnow  that  you  do  not  mourn  alono  ?  A  clm- 
ractor  so  exomplury  us  a  trirnd,  a  coiniscllor, 
a  christian,  ami  a  ininistcr,  will  Ih'  Ion;,'  ami 
dot'ply  r('jifrt'ttt\l ;  and  many  will  join  with 
ine  in  i)rayin.ir,  tli;it  yon,  who  are  most  m.-arly 
intcri'stcd,  may  bo  sii,Mially  sup|K)rtod,  and 
fV«>l  tho  propriety  of  Mrs.  Rowo's  acknow- 
led^nnont, 

Thou  (lost  hill  tnko  the  dyini?  lump  nwny, 
To  hli'ss  ino  with  lhiiu>  own  iiiuiotuli'd  day. 

Wo  join  in  most  allbctionato  respects  and 
-condolence.  May  the  [.ord  bless  yon  and 
keep  yon,  lift  up  the  li^ht  of  his  countenance 
upon  you,  and  give  you  peace. — 1  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  II. 

April  3,  1775. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  liavc  loui^  and  oflen 
purposed  waiting  upon  you  with  a  second 
letter,  tlioug-li  one  thing  or  other  still  caused 
delay ;  for  though  I  could  not  but  wish  to 
hear  from  you,  I  was  far  from  making  tliat  a 
■condition  of  my  writing.  If  you  have  leisure 
and  spirits  to  favour  me  with  a  line  now  and 
then,  it  w^ill  give  us  much  pleasure;  but  if 
not,  it  will  be  a  sufficient  inducement  with 
me  to  write,  to  know  that  you  give  me 
liberty,  and  that  you  will  receive  my  letters 
in  good  part.  At  the  same  time,  I  must  add, 
that  my  various  engagements  will  not  permit 
me  to  break  in  upon  you  so  often  as  my 
sincere  affection  would  otherwise  prompt  me 
to  do. 

I  heartily  thank  you  for  yours,  and  hope 
my  soul  desires  to  praise  the  Lord  on  your 
behalf.  I  am  persuaded  that  his  goodness  to 
you,  in  supporting  you  under  a  trial  so  sharp 
in  itself,  and  in  the  circumstances  that  at- 
tended it,  has  been  an  encouragement  and 
comfort  to  many.  It  is  in  such  apparently 
severe  times  that  the  all-sufficiency  and  faith- 
fulness of  the  Lord,  and  the  power  and  pro- 
per effects  of  his  precious  gospel,  are  most 
eminently  displayed.  I  would  hope,  and  I 
do  believe,  that  the  knowledge  of  your  case 
has  animated  some  of  the  Lord's  people 
against  those  anxious  fears,  which  they  some- 
times feel  when  they  look  upon  their  earthly 
comforts  with  too  careful  an  eye,  and  their 
hearts  are  ready  to  sink  at  the  thought. 
What  should  I  do,  and  how  should  I  behave, 
were  the  Lord  pleased  to  take  away  my  de- 
sire with  a  stroke  ?  But  we  see  he  can  sup- 
ply their  absence,  and  afford  us  superior 
comforts  without  them.  The  gospel  reveals 
one  thing  needful,  the  pearl  of  great  price ; 
and  supposes  that  they  who  possess  this  are 
provided  for  against  all  events,  and  have 
ground  of  unshaken  hope,  and  a  source  of 
never-failing  consolation  under  every  change 
they  can  meet  with  during  their  pilgrimage 
state.  When  his  people  are  enabled  to  set 
20, 


their  seal  to  thi.s  not  only  in  theory,  whon 

all  thingH  go  Hm(K)th,  but  pnictinilly,  when 
called  \i\um  to  jwiss  through  tin'  fire  and 
water,  then  his  grac<,'  is  gltjrified  m  thcrn 
and  by  IIhmm  :  then  it  appcus  Ixjtn  to  Ummu- 
selves  and  to  others,  that  they  have  neither 
followed  cunningly  devised  fiihles,  nor  amuHcd 
them.selvcH  witli  eMij)ty  notions;  then  Ihcy 
know  in  themselves,  and  it  is  eviuencf.'d  to 
others,  that  (Jod  is  with  them  of  a  truth.  In 
this  view  a  believer,  when  in  some  grxxi 
measure  divested  from  that  narrow  selfish 
dis|)osition  which  cleaves  so  close  to  us  by 
nature,  will  not  only  submit  to  trials,  but 
rejoice  in  them,  notwithstanding  the  feelings 
and  reluctance  of  the  flesh.  For  if  I  am 
redeemed  from  misery  by  the  blood  of  Jesu.s, 
and  if  he  is  now  preparing  me  a  mansion 
near  himself,  that  1  may  drink  of  the  rivers 
of  pleasure  at  his  right  hand  for  evermore ; 
the  question  is  not  (at  least  ought  not  to  be,) 
How  may  I  pass  through  life  with  the  least 
inconvenience  !  but.  How  may  my  little  span 
of  life  be  made  most  subservient  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  him  who  loved  me,  and  gave 
himself  for  mel  Where  the  Lord  gives  this 
desire,  he  will  gratify  it ;  and  as  afflictions 
for  the  most  part  afford  the  fairest  opportuni- 
ties of  this  kind,  therefore  it  is,  that  those 
whom  he  is  pleased  eminently  to  honour  are 
usually  called,  at  one  time  or  another,  to  the 
heaviest  trials ;  not  because  he  loves  to  grieve 
I  them,  but  because  he  hears  their  prayers,  and 
I  accepts  their  desires  of  doing  him  service  in 
j  the  world.  The  post  of  honour  in  wars  is 
I  so  called  because  attended  with  difficulties 
and  dangers  which  but  few  are  supposed 
equal  to ;  yet  generals  usually  allot  these 
hard  services  to  their  favourites  and  friends, 
who,  on  their  parts,  eagerly  accept  them  as 
tokens  of  favour  and  marks  of  confidence. 
i  Should  we,  therefore,  not  account  it  an  ho- 
nour and  a  privilege,  when  the  Captain  of 
our  salvation  assigns  us  a  difficult  post !  since 
he  can  and  does  (which  no  earthly  com- 
mander can)  inspire  his  soldiers  with  wisdom, 
courage,  and  strength,  suitable  to  their  situa- 
tion, 2  (Jor.  xii.  9,  10.  I  am  acquainted  with 
a  few  who  have  been  led  thus  into  the  fore- 
front of  the  battle :  they  suffered  much ;  but 
I  have  never  heard  them  say  they  suffered 
too  much ;  for  the  Lord  stood  by  them  and 
strengthened  them.  Goon,  my  dear  madam; 
yet  alittle  while,  Jesus  will  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  your  eyes ;  you  will  see  your 
beloved  friend  again,  and  he  and  you  will 
rejoice  together  for  ever. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

October  24,  1775. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — The  manner  in  which 
you  mention  Omicron's  letters,  I  hope,  wiL 
rather  humble  me  than  puff  mc  up.     Your 


306 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  T- 


[Ltrr.  IV. 


favourable  acceptance  of  them,  ifalone,  mifrht 
have  the  latter eftcct;  but  alas!  I  feel  myself 
BO  very  defective  in  those  thini^'s,  the  import- 
ance of  which  I  endeavoured  to  point  out  to 
others,  that  1  almost  appear  to  myself  to  be 
one  of  tijose  who  say,  but  do  not.  I  find  it 
much  easier  to  speak  to  the  hearts  of  others 
than  to  my  own.  Yet  I  have  cause  beyond 
many  to  bless  God,  tiiat  lie  has  given  me  some 
idea  of  what  a  christian  ought  to  be,  and  I 
hope  a  real  desire  of  being  one  myself;  but 
verily  I  have  attained  but  a  very  little  way. 
A  friend  hinted  to  me,  that  the  character  I 
have  given  of  C,  or  Grace  in  the  full  ear, 
must  be  from  my  own  experience,  or  I  could 
not  have  written  it.  To  myself,  however,  it 
appears  otherwise  ;  but  I  am  well  convinced, 
that  tlie  state  of  C  is  attainable,  and  more  to 
be  desired  than  mountains  of  gold  and  silver. 
But  I  find  you  complain  likewise;  though  it 
appears  to  me,  and  I  believe  to  all  who  know 
you,  that  the  l^ord  has  been  peculiarly  gra- 
cious to  you,  in  giving  you  much  of  the  spirit 
in  whicli  he  delights,  and  by  which  his  name 
and  the  power  of  his  gospel  are  glorified. 
It  seems,  therefore,  that  we  are  not  competent 
judges  either  of  ourselves  or  of  others.  I 
take  it  for  granted,  that  they  are  the  most 
excellent  christians  who  are  most  abased  in 
their  own  eyes:  but  lest  you  think  upon  tliis 
ground  that  I  am  something,  because  I  can 
say  so  many  humiliating  things  of  myself,  I 
must  prevent  your  over-rating  me,  by  assur- 
ing you,  that  my  confessions  rather  express 
■what  I  know  I  ought  to  think  of  myself,  than 
what  I  actually  do.  Naturalists  suppose, 
that  if  the  matter  of  which  the  earth  is 
formed  were  condensed  as  much  as  it  is 
capable  of,  it  would  occupy  but  a  very  small 
space ;  in  proof  of  which  they  observe,  that  a 
cubical  pane  of  glass,  which  appears  smooth 
and  impervious  to  us,  must  be  exceedingly 
porous  in  itself;  since  in  every  assignable 
point  it  receives  and  transmits  the  rays  of 
light ;  and  yet  gold,  which  is  the  most  solid 
substance  we  are  acquainted  with,  is  but 
about  eight  times  heavier  than  glass  which 
is  made  up  (if  I  may  say  so)  of  nothing  but 
pores.  In  like  manner,  I  conceive,  that  in- 
herent ^race,  when  it  is  dilated,  and  appears 
to  the  greatest  advantage  in  a  sinner,  would 
be  found  to  be  very  small  and  inconsiderable, 
if  it  were  condensed,  and  absolutely  separated 
from  every  mixture.  The  highest  attain- 
ments in  this  life  are  very  inconsiderable, 
compared  with  what  should  properly  result 
from  our  relation  and  obligations  to  a  God  of 
infinite  holiness.  The  nearer  we  approach 
to  him,  the  more  we  are  sensible  of  this. 
While  we  only  hear  of  God  as  it  were  by 
the  ear,  we  seem  to  be  something ;  but  when, 
as  in  the  case  of  Job,  he  discovers  himself 
more  sensibly  to  us.  Job's  language  becomes 
ours,  and  the  height  of  our  attainment  is,  to 
abhor  ourselves  in  dust  and  ashes. 


I  hope  I  do  not  write  too  late  to  meet  you 
at  Bath.  I  pray  that  your  health  may  be 
benefited  by  the  waters,  and  your  soul  com- 
forted by  the  Lord's  blessing  upon  the  ordi- 
nances, and  the  converse  of  his  children.  If 
any  of  the  friends  you  expected  to  see  arf> 
still  there,  to  whom  we  a?e  known,  and  my 
name  should  be  mentioned,  I  beg-  you  to  say^ 
we  desire  to  be  respectfully  remembered  to 
them.  Had  I  wings,  I  would  fly  to  Bath 
while  you  are  there.  As  it  is,  I  endeavour  to 
be  with  you  in  spirit.  There  certainly  is  a 
real,  though  secret,  a  sweet,  though  mysteri- 
ous communion  of  saints,  by  virtue  of  their 
common  union  with  Jesus.  Feeding  upon 
the  same  bread,  drinking  of  the  sa  me  fountain, 
waiting  at  the  same  mercy-seat,  and  aiming' 
at  the  same  ends,  they  have  fellowship  one 
with  another,  though  at  a  distance.  Who 
can  tell  how  often  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  is 
equally  present  with  them  all,  touches  the 
hearts  of  two  or  more  of  his  children  at  the 
same  instant,  so  as  to  excite  a  sympathy  of 
pleasure,  prayer,  or  praise,  on  each  other's 
account?  It  revives  me  sometimes  in  a  dull 
and  dark  hour  to  reflect,  that  the  Lord  has  in 
mercy  given  me  a  place  in  the  hearts  of 
many  of  his  people ;  and  perhaps  some  of 
them  may  be  speaking  to  him  on  my  behalf, 
when  I  have  hardly  power  to  utter  a  word 
for  myself.  For  kind  services  of  this  sort,  I 
persuade  myself  I  am  often  indebted  to  you. 

0  that  I  were  enabled  more  fervently  to 
repay  you  in  the  same  way  !  I  can  say,  that 

1  attempt  it;  I  love  and  honour  you  greatly, 
and  your  concernments  are  often  upon  my 
mind. 

We  spent  most  of  a  week  with  Mr.  B 

since  we  returned  from  I^ndon,  and  he  has 
been  once  here.  We  have  reason  to  be  very 
thankful  for  his  connexion ;  I  find  but  few 
like-minded  with  him,  and  his  family  is  filled 
with  the  grace  and  peace  of  the  gospel.  I 
never  visit  them  but  I  meet  with  something 
to  humble,  quicken,  and  edify  me.  Oh  !  what 
will  heaven  be,  where  there  shall  be  all  who 
love  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  they  only  ;  where  all 
imperfection,  and  whatever  now  abates  or  in- 
terrupts their  joy  in  their  Lord  and  in  each 
other,  shall  cease  for  ever.  There  at  least  I 
hope  to  meet  you,  and  spend  an  eternity  with 
you,  in  admiring  the  riches  and  glory  of  re- 
deeming love. 

We  join  in  a  tender  of  the  most  affection- 
ate respects. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  IV. 

October  28,  1777. 

MY   DEAR  MADAM, — What  cau  T  Say  for 

myself,  to  let  your  obliging  letter  remain  so 

long  unanswered,  when  your  kind  solicitude 

for  us  iiiduced  you  to  write  ]     I  am  ashamed 


LET.  IV.] 


LKTTKRS  TO  MRS.  T 


J07 


of  the  delay.  Yoii  would  hnvo  lioard  from 
me  inimodiati'iy,  had  I  been  at  lioine.  lint 
I  have  reason  to  be  tliniiklul  that  we  w«Te 
providentially  called  to  London  a  few  days 

before  the  fire;  ko  that  Mrs.  was  mer- 

cifnlly  preserved  from  the  alarm  and  shock 
she  nuist  have  felt,  had  she  been  upon  tin* 
epot.  Your  letter  followed  me  hither,  and 
was  in  my  possession  more  than  a  week  he- 
fore  my  return.  I  purposed  writinjx  every 
day,  but  indeed  I  was  much  hurried  and  en- 
jra<^ed.  Yet  I  am  not  excused :  I  ouo-ht  to 
have  saved  time  from  my  meals  or  my  sleep, 
rather  than  appear  neglifjent  or  unnrrateful. 
I  now  seize  the  tirst  post  I  could  write  by 
since  I  came  home.  The  fire  devoured 
twelve  houses  ;  and  it  was  a  mercy,  and  al- 
most a  miracle,  that  the  whole  town  was  not 
destroyed,  which  must,  humanly  spcakinor, 
have  been  the  case,  had  not  the  night  been 
calm,  as  two  thirds  of  the  buildinjrs  were 
thatched.  No  lives  were  lost,  no  person 
considerably  hurt,  and  I  believe  the  contri- 
butions of  the  benevolent  will  prevent  the 
loss  from  being  greatly  felt.  It  was  at  the 
the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  my 
house. 

Your  command  limits  my  attention  at 
present  to  a  part  of  your  letter,  and  points 
me  out  a  subject.  Yet,  at  the  same  time, 
you  lay  me  under  a  difficulty.  I  would  not 
willingly  oflend  you,  and  I  hope  the  Lord 
has  taught  me  not  to  aim  at  saying  hand- 
gome  things.  I  deal  not  in  compliments,  and 
religious  compliments  are  the  most  unseemly 
of  any.  But  why  might  I  not  express  my 
sense  of  the  grace  of  God  manifested  in  you  as 
well  as  in  another  ?  I  believe  our  hearts  are 
all  alike  destitute  of  every  good,  and  prone 
to  every  evil.  L.ike  money  from  the  same 
mint,  they  bear  the  same  impression  of  total 
depravity  ;  but  grace  makes  a  difference,  and 
grace  deserves  the  praise.  Perhaps  it  ought 
not  greatly  to  displease  you,  that  others  do, 
and  must,  and  v.nll  think  better  of  you  than 
you  do  of  yourself  If  I  do,  how  can  I  help 
it,  when  I  form  my  judgment  entirely  from 
what  you  say  and  write  !  I  cannot  consent 
that  you  should  seriously  appoint  me  to  ex- 
amine and  judge  of  your  state.  I  thought 
you  knew  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
what  your  views  and  desires  are;  yea,  you 
express  them  in  your  letter,  in  full  agree- 
ment with  what  the  scriptures  declare  of  the 
principles,  desires,  and  feelings  of  a  chris- 
tian. It  is  true  that  you  feel  contrary  prin- 
ciples, that  you  are  conscious  of  defects  and 
defilements;  but  it  is  equally  true  that  you 
could  not  be  right  if  you  did  not  feel  these 
things.  To  be  conscious  of  them,  and  hum- 
bled for  them,  is  one  of  the  surest  marks  of 
grace ;  and  to  be  more  deeply  sensible  of 
them  than  formerly  is  the  best  evidence  of 
growth  in  grace.  But  when  the  enemy 
would  tempt  us  to  doubt  and  distrust,  be- 


cauHC  wc  nro  not  perfect,  then  he  flghtu,  not 
only  agairjst  our  peace,  but  ntruiijht  the  ho- 
nour and  faithfulnessof  our  dear  Lord.  Our 
righteousnes.^  ia  in  liim,  and  our  hope  do- 
j)ends,  not  upon  the  exercise  of  grace  in  U8, 
but  upon  the  fulne.ss  of  grace  and  love  in  him, 
and  u|>on  his  ob(»(lienco  unto  death. 

There  is,  my  dear  madam,  a  diflerrnce  be- 
tween the  holiness  of  a  sirmer  and  that  of  an 
angel.  The  angels  have  never  sinned,  nor 
have  tiiey  twisted  of  redeeming  love;  they 
have  no  inward  conflicts,  no  law  of  hin  war- 
ring in  their  members ;  their  obedience  is  per- 
fect; their  happiness  is  complete.  Yet  if  I 
be  found  among  redeemed  sinners,  1  need 
not  wish  to  be  an  angel.  Perhaps  G(xl  is 
not  less  glorified  by  your  obedience,  and,  not 
to  shock  you,  I  will  add  by  mine,  than  by 
Gabriel's.  It  is  a  mighty  manifestation  of 
his  grace  indeed,  when  it  can  live,  and  act, 
and  conquer  in  such  hearts  as  ours ;  when, 
in  defiance  of  an  evil  nature  and  an  evil 
world,  and  all  the  force  and  subtilty  of  Satan, 
a  weak  worm  is  still  upheld,  and  enabled  not 
only  to  climb,  but  to  thresh  the  mountains; 
when  ,a  small  spark  is  preserved  through 
storms  and  floods.  In  these  circumstances, 
the  work  of  grace  is  to  be  estimated,  not 
merely  from  its  imperfect  appearance,  but 
from  the  difficulties  it  has  to  struggle  with 
and  overcome ;  and  therefore  our  holiness 
does  not  consist  in  great  attainments,  but  in 
spiritual  desires,  in  hungerings,  thirstings, 
and  mournings;  in  humiliation  of  heart,  po- 
verty of  spirit,  submission,  meekness ;  in  cor- 
dial admiring  thoughts  of  Jesus,  and  de- 
pendence upon  him  alone  for  all  we  want. 
Indeed  these  may  be  said  to  be  great  attain- 
ments ;  but  they  who  have  most  of  them  are 
most  sensible  that  they,  in  and  of  themselves, 
are  nothing,  have  nothing,  can  do  nothing, 
and  see  daily  cause  for  abhorring  themselves, 
and  repenting  in  dust  and  ashes. 

Our  view  of  death  will  not  always  be  alike, 
but  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  pleased  to  communicate  his 
sensible  influence.  We  may  anticipate  the 
moment  of  dissolution  with  pleasure  and  de- 
sire in  the  morning,  and  be  ready  to  shrink 
from  the  thought  of  it  before  night.  But 
though  our  frames  and  perceptions  vary,  the 
report  of  faith  concerning  it  is  the  same. 
The  Lord  usually  reserves  dying  strength 
for  a  dying  hour.  When  Israel  was  to  pass 
Jordan,  the  ark  was  in  the  river ;  and  though 
the  rear  of  the  host  could  not  see  it,  yet  as 
they  successively  came  forward  and  ap- 
proached the  banks,  they  all  beheld  the  ark, 
and  all  went  safely  over.  As  vou  are  not 
weary  of  living,  if  it  be  the  Lord's  pleasure, 
so  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of  your  friends  and 
the  people  whom  you  love,  he  will  spare  you 
amongst  us  a  little  longer;  but  when  the 
tin;e  shall  arrive  which  he  has  appointed  for 
your  dismission,  I  make  no  doubt  but  he  will 


303 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  T- 


overpower  all  your  fears,  silence  all  your 
enemies,  and  o-ive yon  a  comfortable,  triumph- 
ant entrance  into  his  kingdom.  You  have 
nothing  to  fear  from  death ;  for  Jesus,  hy  dy- 
ing, has  disarmed  it  of  its  sting,  has  perfum- 
ed the  grave,  and  opened  the  gates  of  glory 
for  his  believing  people.  Satan,  so  far  as  he 
is  permitted,  will  assault  our  peace,  but  he  is 
a  vanquished  enemy  ;  our  Lord  holds  him  in  a 
chain,  and  sets  him  bounds  which  he  cannot 
pass.  lie  provides  for  us  likewise  the  whole 
armour  of  God,  and  has  promised  to  cover 


[let.  ir. 


'  our  heads  himself  in  the  day  of  battle,  to 
bring  us  honourably  through  every  skirmish, 
and  to  make  us  more  than  conquerors  at  last 
If  you  think  my  short  unexpected  interview 

with  Mr.  C may  justify  my  wishing  he 

should  know  that  I  respect  his  character, 
love  his  person,  and  rejoice  in  wiiat  the  Lord 
has  done  and  is  doing  for  him  and  by  liim,  I 
beg  you  tell  him  so ;  but  I  leave  it  entirely 
to  yourself 

We  join  in  most  affectionate  respects.— I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTERS 


TO  MR. 


LETTER  I. 

March  7,  1765. 

DEAR  SIR, — Your  favour  of  the  19th  Fe- 
bruary came  to  my  hand  yesterday.  I  have 
read  it  with  attention,  and  very  willingly  sit 
down  to  ofler  you  my  thoughts.  Your  case 
reminds  me  of  my  own:  my  first  desires 
towards  the  ministry  w^ere  attended  with 
grreat  uncertainties  and  difficulties,  and  the 
perplexity  of  my  own  mind  was  heightened 
by  the  various  and  opposite  judgments  of  my 
friends.  The  advice  I  have  to  offer  is  the 
result  of  painful  experience  and  exercise,  and 
for  this  reason,  perhaps,  may  not  be  unac- 
ceptable to  you.  I  pray  our  gracious  Lord 
to  make  it  useful. 

I  was  long  distressed,  as  you  are,  about 
what  was  or  was  not  a  proper  call  to  the 
ministry.  It  now  seems  to  me  an  easy  point 
to  solve;  but,  perhaps,  it  will  not  be  so  to 
you,  till  the  Lord  shall  make  it  clear  to 
yourself  in  your  own  case.  I  have  not 
room  to  say  so  much  as  I  could.  In  brief,  I 
think  it  principally  includes  three  things: 

1.  A  warm  and  earnest  desire  to  be  em- 
ployed in  this  service.  I  apprehend  the  man 
who  is  once  moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to 
this  work,  will  prefer  it,  if  attainable,  to 
thousands  of  gold  and  silver:  so  that,  though 
he  is  at  times  intimidated  by  a  sense  of  its 
importance  and  difficulty,  compared  with  his 
own  great  insufficiency  (for  it  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed a  call  of  this  sort,  if  indeed  from  God, 
will  be  accompanied  with  humility  and  self- 
abasement,)  yet  he  cannot  give  it  up.  I 
hold  it  a  good  rule  to  inquire  in  this  point, 
\vhether  the  desire  to  preach  is  most  fervent 
in  our  most  lively  and  spiritual  frames,  or 
when  we  are  most  laid  in  the  dust  before  the 
Lord  ]  If  so,  it  is  a  good  sign.  But  if,  as  is 
sometimes  the  case,  a  person  is  very  earnest 
to  be  a  preacher  to  others,  when  he  finds  but 
little  hungerings  and  thirstings  afler  grace 
in  his  own  soul,  it  is  then  to  be  feared,  his 
zeal  springs  rather  from  a  selfish  principle 
than  from  the  Spirit  of  God. 


2.  Besides  this  affectionate  desire  and  rea- 
diness to  preach,  there  must  in  due  season 
appear  some  competent  sufficiency  as  to  gifts, 
knowledge,  and  utterance.  Surely,  if  the 
Lord  sends  a  man  to  teach  others,  he  will 
furnish  him  with  the  means.  I  believe  many 
have  intended  well  in  setting  up  for  preachers, 
who  yet  went  beyond  or  before  their  call  in 
so  doing.  The  main  difference  between  a 
minister  and  a  private  christian,  seems  to 
consist  in  these  ministerial  gifls,  which  are 
imparted  to  him,  not  for  his  own  sake,  but 
for  the  edification  of  others.  But  then  I  say, 
these  are  to  appear  in  due  season ;  they  are 
not  to  be  expected  instantaneously,  but  gra- 
dually, in  the  use  of  proper  means.  They 
are  necessary  for  the  discharge  of  the  minis- 
try, but  not  necessary  as  pre-requisites  to 
warrant  our  desires  after  it.  In  your  case, 
you  are  young,  and  have  time  before  you ; 
therefore,  I  think  you  need  not  as  yet  perplex 
yourself  with  inquiring  if  you  have  these 
gifls  already.  It  is  sufficient  if  your  desire 
is  fixed,  and  you  are  willing,  in  the  way  of 
prayer  and  diligence,  to  wait  upon  the  Lord 
for  them  ;  as  yet  you  need  them  not. 

3.  That  which  finally  evidences  a  proper 
call,  is  a  correspondent  opening  in  providence, 
by  a  gradual  train  of  circumstances  pointing 
out  the  means,  the  time,  the  place,  of  actually 
entering  upon  the  work.  And  till  this  coin- 
cidence arrives,  you  must  not  expect  to  be 
always  clear  from  hesitation  in  your  own 
mind.  The  principal  caution  on  this  head 
is,  not  to  be  too  hasty  in  catching  at  first  ap- 
pearances. If  it  be  the  Lord's  will  to  bring 
you  into  his  ministry,  he  has  already  ap- 
pointed your  place  and  service  ;  and  though 
you  know  it  not  at  present,  you  shall  at  a 
proper  time.  If  you  had  the  talents  of  an 
angel,  you  could  do  no  good  with  them  till  his 
hour  is  come,  and  till  he  leads  you  to  the 
people  whom  he  has  determined  to  bless  by 
your  means.  It  is  very  difficult  to  restrain 
ourselves  within  the  bounds  of  prudence  here, 
when  our  zeal  is  warm :  a  sense  of  the  love 
of  Christ  upon  our  hearts,  and  a  tender  com- 

309 


310 


LETTERS  TO  MR. 


[lbt.  il 


passion  for  poor  sinners,  is  ready  to  prompt 
us  to  break  out  too  soon ; — but  he  that  bc- 
lieveth,  shall  not  make  haste.  I  was  about 
five  years  under  this  constraint :  sometimes 
I  thought  I  must  preach,  though  it  was  in 
the  streets.  I  listened  to  every  thing  that 
eeemed  plausible,  and  to  many  things  which 
were  not  so.  But  the  Lord  graciously,  and 
as  it  w-ere  insensibly,  hedged  up  my  way 
with  thorns;  otherwise,  if  I  had  been  left  to 
my  own  spirit,  I  sliould  have  put  it  quite  out 
of  my  power  to  have  been  brought  into  such 
a  sphere  of  usefulness,  as  he  in  good  time 
has  been  pleased  to  lead  me  to.  And  I  can 
now  see  clearly,  that  at  the  time  I  would  first 
have  gone  out,  though  my  intention  was,  I 
hope,  good  in  the  main,  yet  I  overrated  my- 
self, and  had  not  that  spiritual  judgment  and 
experience,  which  are  requisite  for  so  great  a 
service.  I  wish  you  therefore  to  take  time ; 
and  if  you  have  a  desire  to  enter  into  the  es- 
tablished church,  endeavour  to  keep  your  zeal 
within  moderate  bounds,  and  avoid  every  thing 
that  might  unnecessarily  clog  your  admission 
with  difficulties.  I  w-ould  not  have  you  hide 
your  profession,  or  to  be  backward  to  speak 
for  God ;  but  avoid  what  looks  like  preach- 
ing, and  be  content  with  being  a  learner  in 
the  school  of  Christ  for  some  years.  The  de- 
lay will  not  be  lost  time  ;  you  will  be  so  much 
the  more  acquainted  with  the  gospel,  with 
your  own  heart,  and  with  human  nature:  the 
last  is  a  necessary  branch  of  a  minister's 
knowledge,  and  can  only  be  acquired  by. 
comparing  what  passes  within  us,  and 
around  us,  with  what  we  read  in  the  word 
of  God. 

I  am  glad  to  find  you  have  a  distaste  both 
for  Arminian  and  Antinomian  doctrines;  but 
let  not  the  mistakes  of  others  sit  too  heavy 
upon  you.  Be  thankful  for  the  grace  that 
has  made  you  to  differ ;  be  ready  to  give  a 
reason  of  the  hope  that  is  in  you  with  meek- 
ness and  fear  ;  but  beware  of  engaging  in  dis- 
putes without  evident  necessity,  and  some 
probable  hope  of  usefulness.  They  tend  to 
eat  out  the  life  and  savour  of  religion,  and  to 
make  the  soul  lean  and  dry.  Where  God 
has  begun  a  real  work  of  grace,  incidental 
mistakes  will  be  lessened  by  time  and  expe- 
dience ;  where  he  has  not,  it  is  of  little  sig- 
nification what  sentiments  people  hold,  or 
whether  they  call  themselves  Arminians  or 
Calvinists. 

I  agree  with  you,  it  is  time  enough  for  you 
to  think  of  Oxford  yet ;  and  that  if  your  pur- 
pose is  fixed,  and  all  circumstances  render  it 
prudent  and  proper  to  devote  yourself  to  the 
ministry,  you  will  do  well  to  spend  a  year  or 
two  in  private  studies.  It  would  be  further 
helpful,  in  this  view,  to  place  yourself  where 
there  is  gospel-preaching,  and  a  lively  peo- 
ple. If  your  favourable  opinion  of  this  place 
ehould  induce  you  to  come  here,  I  shall  be 
very  ready  to  give  you  every  assistance  in 


my  power.  As  I  have  trod  exactly  the  path 
you  seem  to  be  setting  out  in,  I  might  so  far 
perhaps,  be  more  serviceable  than  those  who 
are  in  other  respects  much  better  qualified 
to  assist  you.  I  doubt  not  but  in  this,  and 
every  other  step,  you  will  intreat  the  Lord's 
direction ;  and  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  to 
pray  for,  Sir, — Your  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  IL 

January  7,  1767. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  must  beg  you  once  for  all, 
to  release  me  from  any  constraint  about  the 
length  or  frequency  of  my  letters.  Believe 
that  I  think  of  you,  and  pray  for  you  when  you 
do  not  hear  from  me.  Your  correspondence 
is  not  quite  so  large  as  mine,  therefore  you 
may  write  the  oflener.  Your  letters  will  be 
always  welcome;  and  I  will  write  to  you 
when  I  find  a  leisure  hour,  and  have  any 
thing  upon  my  mind  to  offer. 

You  seem  sensible  where  your  most  observ- 
able failing  lies,  and  to  take  reproof  and  ad- 
monition concerning  it  in  good  part;  I  there- 
fore hope  and  believe  the  Lord  will  give  you 
a  growing  victory  over  it.  You  must  not  ex- 
pect habits  and  tempers  will  be  eradicated  in- 
stantaneously ;  but  by  perseverance  in  prayer, 
and  observation  upon  the  experience  of  every 
day,  much  may  be  done  in  time.  Now  and 
then  you  will  (as  is  usual  in  the  course  of 
war)  lose  a  battle ;  but  be  not  discouraged, 
but  rally  your  forces,  and  return  to  the  fight. 
There  is  a  comfortable  word,  a  leaf  of  the  tree 
of  life,  for  healing  the  wounds  we  receive,  in 
1  John  ii.  1.  If  the  enemy  surprises  you, 
and  your  heart  smites  you,  do  not  stand  as- 
tonished as  if  there  was  no  help,  nor  give  way 
to  sorrow,  as  if  there  was  no  hope,  nor  at- 
tempt to  heal  yourself;  but  away  immediately 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  to  the  great  physician, 
to  the  compassionate  High-priest,  and  tell 
him  all.  Satan  knows,  that  if  he  can  keep  us 
from  confession,  our  wounds  will  rankle;  but 
do  you  profit  by  David's  experience.  Psalm 
xxxii.  3 — 5.  When  we  are  simple  and  open- 
hearted  in  abasing  ourselves  before  the  Lord, 
though  we  have  acted  foolishly  and  ungrate- 
fully, he  will  seldom  let  us  remain  long, 
without  affording  us  a  sense  of  his  compas- 
sion ;  for  he  is  gracious;  he  knows  our  frame, 
and  how  to  bear  with  us,  though  we  can 
hardly  bear  with  ourselves  or  with  ono 
another. 

Tlie  main  thing  is  to  have  the  heart  right 
with  God ;  this  will  bring  us  in  the  end  safely 
through  many  mistakes  and  blunders ;  but  a 
double  mind,  a  selfish  spirit,  that  would  halve 
things  between  God  and  the  world,  the  Lord 
abhors.  Though  I  have  not  yet  had  many 
opportunities  of  commending  your  prudence, 
I  have  always  had  a  good  opmion  of  your 


LET.  III.] 


LETTERS  TO  MR. 


311 


Binrority  and  intnijrity  ;  if  I  am  not  mistaken 
in  tins,  I  make  no  <loubt  of  your  (loin«,'  well. 
If  the  lA)rtl  IS  j)U'jiso{l  to  blfs.s  yon,  hi;  will 
undonbtcilly  nmk»'  you  Ininiblo;  for  you  can- 
not bo  cillior  happy  or  sjifo,  or  liavo  any  j)r()- 
bable  hopo  of  abidini^  usefulness,  without  it. 
1  do  not  know  that  I  have  had  any  thinjj  so 
much  at  heart  mi  my  connexions  with  you,  as 
to  impress  you  with  a  sense  of  the  necessity 
and  advantaj^es  of  arj  hmnblo  frame  of  spirit; 
I  ho{)e  it  has  not  been  in  vain.  O,  to  be  lit- 
tle in  our  own  eyes!  Tiiis  is  the  £Tround-work 
of  every  fjrace ;  this  leads  to  a  continual  de- 
pendence u[X)n  the  Lord  Jesus;  this  is  the 
spirit  which  he  has  promised  to  bless ;  this 
conciliates  us  jjood  will  and  acceptance 
amongst  men:  lor  he  that  abaseth  himself  is 
sure  to  be  honoured.  And  that  this  temper 
is  so  hard  to  attain  and  preserve,  is  a  strikini^ 
proof  of  our  depravity.  For  are  we  not  sin- 
ners? Were  we  not  rebels  and  enemies  be- 
fore we  knew  the  g-ospel  I  and  have  we  not 
been  unfaithful,  backsliding-,  and  unprofitable 
ever  since  !  Are  we  not  redeemed  by  the 
blood  of  Jesus  ?  and  can  we  stand  a  single 
moment  except  he  upholds  us  ]  Have  we  any 
thing  which  we  have  not  received  ?  or  have 
we  received  any  thing  which  we  have  not 
abused  ?  Why  then  is  dust  and  ashes  proud  I 
I  am  glad  you  have  found  some  spiritual 
acquaintance  in  your  barren  land.  I  hope 
you  will  be  helpful  to  them,  and  they  to  you. 
You  do  well  to  guard  against  every  appear- 
ance of  evil.  If  you  are  heartily  for  Jesus, 
Satan  owes  you  a  grudge.  One  way  or  other, 
he  will  try  to  cut  you  out  work,  and  the  Lord 
may  suffer  him  to  go  to  the  length  of  his 
chain.  But  though  you  are  to  keep  your  eye 
upon  him,  and  expect  to  hear  from  him  at 
every  step,  you  need  not  be  slavishly  afraid 
of  him;  for  Jesus  is  stronger  and  wiser  than 
he,  and  there  is  a  complete  suit  of  armour 
provided  for  all  who  are  engaged  on  the  Lord's 
side. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IIL 

Oct.  20,  1767. 

DEAR  SIR, — A  concern  for  the  perplexity 
you  have  met  with,  from  the  objections  which 
have  been  made  against  some  expressions  in 
my  printed  sermons,  and  in  general,  against 
exhortinsr  sinners  to  believe  in  Jesus,  engages 
me  to  write  immediately  ;  otherwise  I  should 
have  waited  a  little  longer;  for  we  are  now 
upon  the  point  of  removing  to  the  vicarage, 
and  I  believe  this  will  be  the  last  letter  I 
shall  write  from  the  old  house.  I  shall  chiefly 
confine  myself  at  present  to  the  subject  you 
propose. 

In  the  first  place,  I  beg  you  to  be  upon  your 
guard  against  a  reasoning  spirit.  Search  the 
scriptures;  and  where  you  can  find  a  plain 


rule  or  warrant  for  atiy  prnelirf,  po  lK)ldljf 
on;  and  b(!  not  discouraged  brcttus*;  you  may 
not  b(*  dearly  able  to  answer  or  rrconcilo 
every  ditfuulty  that  may  I'lther  occur  to  your 
own  mind,  or  be  put  in  your  way  by  others. 
Our  hearts  are  very  dark  and  narrow,  and  tlio 
very  root  of  all  u|K)stacy,  iH  a  |)roud  diH[)o«i- 
tion  to  (  uestion  the  necessity  or  |)ropnety  at 
divir)e  app<jintment.  Hut  th<?  child-like  Hirn- 
plicity  of  faith,  i.s  to  follow  (jch!  without  rea- 
st)ning;  taking  it  for  granted  a  thing  must 
be  right  if  he  directs  it,  and  charging  all 
seeming  inconsistences  to  the  account  of  our 
own  ignorance. 

I  suppose  the  people  that  trouble  you  upoa 
this  head  are  those  who  preach  upon  Armi- 
nian  principles,  and  suppose  a  free  will  in 
man,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  turn  to 
God  when  the  gospel  is  proposed.  These,  if 
you  speak  to  sinners  at  large,  though  they 
will  approve  of  your  doing  so,  will  take  oc- 
casion, perhaps,  to  charge  you  with  acting  in 
contradiction  to  your  own  principles.  So,  it 
seems,  Mr. has  said.  I  love  and  ho- 
nour that  man  greatly,  and  I  beg  you  will 
tell  him  so  from  me;  and  tell  him  farther, 
that  the  reason  why  he  is  not  a  Calvinist,  is* 
because  he  misapprehends  our  principles.  If 
I  had  a  proper  call,  I  would  undertake  to 
prove  the  direct  contrary ;  namely,  that  to  ex- 
hortand  deal  plainly  with  sinners,  to  stir  thera 
up  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  to  lay 
hold  of  eternal  life,  is  an  attempt  not  recon- 
cileable  to  sober  reason,  upon  any  other  grounds 
than  those  doctrines  which  we  are  called  Cal- 
vinists  for  holding;  and  that  all  the  absurdi- 
ties which  are  charged  upon  us,  as  conse- 
quences of  what  we  teach,  are  indeed  truly 
chargeable  upon  those  who  differ  from  us  in 
these  points.  I  think  this  unanswerably 
proved  by  Mr.  Edwards,  in  his  Discourse  on 
the  Freedom  of  the  Will,  though  the  chain  of 
reasoning  is  so  close,  that  few  will  give  atten- 
tion or  take  pains  to  pursue  it.  As  to  myself, 
if  I  was  not  a  Calvhiist,  I  think  I  should  have 
no  more  hope  of  success  in  preaching  to  men 
than  to  horses  or  cows. 

But  these  objections  are  more  frequently 
urged  by  Calvinists  themselves ;  many  of  them 
I  doubt  not,  good  men,  but  betrayed  into  a 
curiosity  of  spirit,  which  often  makes  their 
ministry  (if  ministers)  dry  and  inefficacious, 
and  their  conversation  sour  and  unsavoury. 
Such  a  spirit  is  too  prevalent  in  many  profes- 
sors, that  if  a  man  discovers  a  warm  zeal  for 
the  glory  of  God,  and  is  enabled  to  bear  a 
faithful  testimony  to  the  gospel-truths  ;  yea, 
though  the  Lord  evidently  blesses  him,  they 
overlook  all,  and  will  undervalue  a  sermon, 
which,  upon  the  whole,  they  cannot  but  ac- 
knowledge to  be  scriptural,  if  they  meet  with 
a  single  sentence  contrary  to  the  opinion  they 
have  taken  up.  I  am  sorry  to  see  such  a 
spirit  prevailing.  But  this  I  observe,  that  the 
ministers  who  give  into  this  way,  though  good 


312 


LETTERS  TO  MR. 


[let.  it. 


men  and  gfood  pronchers  in  other  respects,  are 
seldom  very  useful  or  very  zealous ;  and  tliosc 
\vIio  are  in  private  life,  are  more  ready  for 
dry  points  of  disputation,  at  least  harpinj.^  up- 
on a  string  of  doctrines,  than  for  experimen- 
tal and  heart-searching  converse,  whereby  one 
may  warm  and  edify  another.  Blessed  be 
God,  who  has  kept  nic  and  my  people  from 
this  turn ;  if  it  should  ever  creep  in  or  spread 
among  us,  I  should  be  ready  to  write  Ichabod 
upon  our  assemblies. 

I  advise  you,  therefore,  to  keep  close  to  the 
Bible  and  prayer:  bring  your  difficulties  to 
the  Lord,  and  entreat  him  to  give  you,  and 
maintain  in  you  a  simple  spirit.  Search  the 
scriptures.  }Iow  did  Peter  deal  with  Simon 
Magus?  We  have  no  right  to  think  worse  of 
any  who  can  hear  us,  than  the  apostle  did  of 
him.  lie  seemed  almost  to  think  his  case 
desperate,  and  yet  he  advised  him  to  repent- 
ance and  prayer.  Examine  the  same  apostle's 
discourse,  Acts  iii.,  and  the  close  of  St.  Paul's 
sermon,  Acts  xiii.  The  power  is  all  of  God  ; 
the  means  are  likewise  of  his  appointment ; 
and  he  always  is  pleased  to  work  by  such 
means  as  may  show  that  the  power  is  his. 
What  was  Moses's  rod  in  itself,  or  the  trum- 
pets that  threw  down  Jericho  1  What  influ- 
ence could  the  pool  of  Siloam  have,  that  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  man,  by  washing  in  it,  should 
be  opened  ]  or  what  could  Ezekiel's  feeble 
breath  contribute  to  the  making  dry  bones 
live?  All  these  means  were  exceedingly  dis-- 
proportioned  to  the  effect ;  but  he  who  order- 
ed them  to  be  used,  accompanied  them  with 
his  power.  Yet,  if  Moses  had  gone  without 
his  rod,  if  Joshua  had  slighted  the  rams' 
horns,  if  the  prophet  had  tliought  it  foolish- 
ness to  speak  to  dry  bones,  or  the  blind  man 
refused  to  wash  his  eyes,  nothing  could  have 
been  done.  The  same  holds  good  in  the 
present  subject:  I  do  not  reason,  expostu- 
late, and  persuade  sinners,  because  I  think  I 
can  prevail  with  them,  but  because  the  Lord 
has  commanded  it.  He  directs  me  to  address 
them  as  reasonable  creatures :  to  take  them 
by  every  handle  ;  to  speak  to  their  conscien- 
ces ;  to  tell  them  of  the  terrors  of  the  Lord, 
and  of  his  tender  mercies;  to  argue  with 
them  what  good  they  find  in  sin;  wdiether 
they  do  not  need  a  Saviour;  to  put  them  in 
mind  of  death,  judgment,  and  eternity,  &c. 
When  I  have  done  all,  I  know  it  is  to  little 
purpose,  except  the  Lord  speaks  to  their 
hearts ;  and  this  to  iiis  own,  and  at  his  own 
time,  I  am  sure  he  will,  because  he  has  pro- 
mised it.  See  Isaiah  Iv.  10,  11  ;  Matt, 
xxviii.  20.  Indeed,  I  have  heard  expressions 
in  the  warmth  of  delivery,  which  I  could  not 
wholly  approve,  and  therefore  do  not  imitate. 
But  in  general,  I  see  no  preaching  made  very 
useful  for  the  gathering  of  souls,  where  poor 
sinners  are  shutout  of  the  discourse.  I  think 
one  of  the  closest  and  most  moving  addresses 
to  sinners  I  ever  met  with,  is  in  Dr.  Owen's 


Exposition  of  the  cxxxth  Psalm,  from  p.  243" 
to  276  (in  my  edition.)  If  you  get  it  and 
examine  it,  I  think  you  will  find  it  all  agree- 
able to  scripture;  and  he  was  a  .steady,  deep- 
sighted  Calvinist.  I  wish  you  to  study  it 
well,  and  make  it  your  pattern.  He  handles 
the  same  point  likewise  in  other  places,  and 
shows  the  weakness  of  the  exceptions  taken, 
somewhere  at  large,  but  I  cannot  just  now 
find  the  passage.  Many  think  themselves 
quite  right,  because  they  have  not  had  their 
thoughts  exercised  at  large,  but  have  confined 
themselves  to  one  track.  Tiiere  are  ex- 
tremes in  every  thing.  I  pray  God  to  show 
you  the  golden  mean. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  IV. 

Aug.  30, 1770. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  would  Steal  a  few  minutes 
here  to  write,  lest  I  should  not  have  leisure- 
at  home.  I  have  not  your  letter  with  me, 
and  therefore  can  only  answer  so  far  as  I 
retain  a  general  remembrance  of  the  con- 
tents. 

You  will,  doubtless,  find  rather  perplexity 
than  advantage  from  the  multiplicity  of  ad- 
vice you  may  receive,  if  you  endeavour  to  re- 
concile and  adopt  the  very  different  sentiments 
of  your  friends,  I  think  it  will  be  best  to 
make  use  of  them  in  a  full  latitude;  that  is,, 
to  correct  and  qualify  them  one  by  another, 
and  to  borrow  a  little  from  each,  without  con- 
fining yourself  entirely  to  any.  You  will 
probably  be  advised  to  different  extremes:  it 
will  then  be  impossible  to  follow  both;  but  it 
may  be  practicable  to  find  a  middle  pafh  be- 
tween them;  and  I  believe  this  will  generally 
prove  the  best  and  safest  method.  Only  con- 
sult your  own  temper,  and  endeavour  to  in- 
cline rather  to  that  side  to  which  you  are  the 
least  disposed,  by  the  ordinary  strain  of  your 
own  inclination ;  for  on  that  side  you  will  be 
in  the  lea.st  danger  of  erring.  Warm  and 
hasty  dispositions  will  seldom  move  too  slow; 
and  those  who  arc  naturally  languid  and  cool 
are  as  little  liable  to  over-act  their  part. 

With  respect  to  the  particulars  you  in- 
stance, I  have  generally  thought  you  warm 
and  enterprising  enough,  and  therefore 
thought  it  best  to  restrain  you  ;  but  I  meant 
only  to  hold  you  in,  till  you  had  acquired 
some  farther  knowledge  and  observation  both 
of  yourself  and  of  others.  I  have  the  plea- 
sure to  hope  (especially  of  late)  that  you  are 
become  more  self-diffident  and  weary  than 
you  were  some  time  ago.  And  therefore, 
as  your  years  and  time  are  advancing,  and 
you  have  been  for  a  tolerable  space  under  a 
probation  of  silence,  I  can  make  no  objection 
to  your  attempting  sometimes  to  speak  in 
select  societies;  but  let  your  attempts  be 
confined  to  such ;  1  mean  where  you  are  ac- 


[Lfn-.  V, 


LETTERS  TO  MR. 


ni.'j 


qmintod  with  tho  pooplo,  ortho  Irndiiifj  part 
of  tlioin,  niul  be  upui  your  {juinl  a^'aiust 
oponinjj  yourself  too  luucli  ttmon'f  HtraMUft'rs. 
Antl  a^ani,  1  oaruostly  dosiro  you  would  not 
attempt  any  \W\u'r  of  this  sort  in  a  vory  pub- 
lic way,  which  may  |)orli:ips  brin^:  you  iniilor 
inconveniences  and  will  bo  inconsistent  with 
tho  part  you  oun^ht  to  act  (in  my  judirinent) 
from  the  time  you  receive  Episcopal  ordina- 
tion. Vou  may  remember  a  simile  I  Juive 
eomctiines  used  of  ;L!fn^en  fruit;  children  arc 
imp.itient  to  have  it  while  it  is  rrreen,  but 
persons  of  more  jui'icfment  will  wait  till  it  is 
ripe.  Therctore  I  would  wish  your  exhor- 
tations to  be  brief,  private,  and  not  very  fre- 
quent. Rather  ^ive  yourself  to  reading,  me- 
ditation, and  prayer. 

As  to  speakini^  without  notes,  in  order  to 
do  it  successfully,  a  fund  of  knowledge  should 
be  first  possessed.  Indeed,  in  such  societies 
as  I  hope  you  will  confine  your  attempts  to, 
it  would  not  be  practicable  to  use  notes  ;  but 
I  mean,  that  if  you  design  to  come  out  as  a 
preacher  without  notes  from  the  first,  you 
must  use  double  diligence  in  study;  your 
reading  must  not  be  confined  to  the  scrip- 
tures; you  should  bo  acquainted  with  church 
history,  have  a  general  view  of  divinity  as 
a  system,  know  something  of  the  state  of 
controversies  in  past  times  and  at  present, 
and  indeed  of  the  general  history  of  mankind. 
I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  enter  deeply 
into  these  things :  but  you  will  need  to  have 
your  mind  enlarged,  your  ideas  increased, 
your  style  and  manner  formed ;  you  should 
read,  think,  write,  compose,  and  use  all  dili- 
gence to  exercise  and  strengthen  your  facul- 
ties. If  you  would  speak  extempore  as  a 
clergyman,  you  must  be  able  to  come  off 
roundly,  and  to  fill  up  your  hour  with  vari- 
ous matter,  in  tolerable  coherence,  or  else 
you  will  not  be  able  to  overcome  the  pre- 
judice which  usually  prevails  among  the 
poople  Perhaps  it  may  be  as  well  to  use 
some  little  scheme  in  the  note-way,  espe- 
cially at  the  beginning ;  but  a  little  trial  will 
best  inform  you  what  is  most  expedient. 

Let  your  backwardness  to  prayer  and  read- 
ing the  scriptures  be  ever  so  great,  you  must 
strive  against  it.  This  backwardness,  with 
the  doubts  you  speak  of,  are  partly  from  your 
own  evil  heart,  but  perhaps  chiefly  tempta- 
tions of  Satan :  he  knows,  if  he  can  keep 
you  from  drawing  water  out  of  the  wells  of 
salvation,  he  will  have  much  advantage. 
My  soul  goes  often  mourning  under  the 
same  complaints,  but  at  times  the  Lord  gives 
me  a  little  victory.  I  hope  he  will  over-rule 
all  our  trials,  to  make  us  more  humble,  de- 
pendent, and  to  give  us  tenderness  of  spirit 
towards  the  distressed.  The  exercised  and 
experienced  christian,  by  the  knowledge  he 
has  o-ained  of  his  own  heart,  and  the  many 
difficultif^jS  he  has  had  to  struggle  with,  ac- 
quires xill  and  compassion  in  dealing  with 
2  R 


otiirrs;  nnd  witliout  such  cxerciHo,  all  our 
study,  diligence,  urul  gifts  in  oiIht  wuy«, 
would  h-ave  us  much  at  a  Ioks  in  homx."  of  the 
most  important  parts  of  our  calling, 

Vou  have  given  yourscdf  to  th(?  I-ord  for 
tljo  ministry:  his  providence  lia.s  thus  far 
liivoured  your  views;  therefore  harlnjur  not 
a  thought  of  flinching  from  the  battle,  be- 
cause the  enemy  appears  in  view,  but  re- 
solve to  endure  hardshij)  as  a  good  soldier 
of  Jesus  Christ.  Lift  up  your  banner  in  his 
name  ;  trust  in  him,  and  he  will  .'-upport  you  ; 
but,  above  all  tilings,  be  sure  not  to  be  either 
enticed  or  terrified  from  the  privilege  of  a 
throne  of  grace. 

Who  your  enemies  are,  or  what  they  say, 
I  know  not ;  for  I  never  conversed  with  them. 
Your  friends  here  have  thought  you  at  times 
harsh  and  hasty  in  your  manner,  and  rather 
inclining  to  self-confidence.  These  things  I 
have  often  reminded  you  of:  but  I  considered 
them  as  blemishes  usually  attendant  upott 
youth,  and  which  experience,  temptation, 
and  prayer  would  correct.  I  hope  and  be- 
lieve you  will  do  well.  You  will  have  a 
share  in  my  prayers  and  best  advice :  and 
when  I  see  occasion  to  offer  a  word  of  re- 
proof, I  shall  not  use  any  reserve. — Yours, 

&LC. 


LETTER  V. 

July  25,  1772. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  ac- 
commodated at  D ,  where  I   hope  your 

best  endeavours  will  not  be  wanting  to  make 
yourself  agreeable,  by  an  humble,  inoffensive, 
and  circumspect  behaviour. 

I  greatly  approve  of  your  speaking  from 
one  of  the  lessons  in  the  afternoon  ;  you  will 
find  it  a  great  help  to  bring  you  gradually  to 
that  habit  and  readiness  of  expression  which 
you  desire:  and  you  will  perhaps  find  it  make 
more  impression  upon  your  hearers  than 
what  you  read  to  them  from  the  pulpit 
However,  I  would  not  discourage  or  dissuade 
you  from  reading  your  sermons  for  a  time. 
The  chief  inconvenience  respecting  yourself 
is  that  which  you  mention.  A  written  ser- 
mon is  something  to  lean  upon ;  bat  it  is  best 
for  a  preacher  to  loan  wholly  upon  the  Lord. 
But  set  off  gradually ;  the  Lord  will  not  de- 
spise the  day  of  small  things;  pray  heartily 
that  your  spirit  may  be  right  with  him,  and 
then  all  the  rest  will  be  well.  And  keep  on 
writing;  if  you  compose  one  sermon,  and 
should  find  your  heart  enlarged  to  preach 
another,  still' your  labour  of  writing  will  not 
be  lost.  If  your  conscience  bears  you  wit- 
ness that  you  desire  to  serve  the  Lord,  his 
promise  (now  he  has  brought  you  into  the 
ministry)  of  a  sufficiency  and  ability  for  the 
work,  belongs  to  you  as  much  as  to  another. 


314 


LETTERS  TO  MR. 


[let.  v. 


Your  borrowincr  help  from  others  may  arise 
from  a  diffidence  of  yourself,  which  is  not 
blamable;  but  it  may  arise  in  part  likewise 
from  a  diffidence  of  the  Lord,  which  is  hurt- 
ful. I  wish  you  may  get  encouragement 
from  that  word.  Exodus  iv.  11,  12.  it  was  a 
great  encouragement  to  me.  While  I  would 
press  you  to  diligence  in  every  rational 
means  for  the  improvement  of  your  stock  in 
knowledge,  and  your  ability  of  utterance,  I 
would  have  you  remember  that  preaching  is 
a  gift.  It  cannot  be  learned  by  industry  and 
imitation  only,  as  a  man  may  learn  to  make 
a  chair  or  a  table :  it  comes  from  above  ;  and 
if  you  patiently  wait  upon  God,  he  will  be- 
stow this  gift  upon  you,  and  increase  it  in 
you.  It  will  grow  by  exercise.  To  him  that 
hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more 
abundantly.  And  be  chiefly  solicitous  to  ob- 
tain an  unction  upon  what  you  do  say.  Per- 
haps those  sermons  in  which  you  feel  your- 
self most  deficient,  may  be  made  most  useful 
to  others.  I  hope  you  will  endeavour  like- 
wise, to  be  plain  and  familiar  in  your  lan- 


guage and  manner  (though  not  low  or  vul- 
gar,) so  as  to  suit  yourself  as  much  as  possi- 
ble to  the  apprehensions  of  the  most  ignorant 
people.  There  are  in  all  congregations  some 
persons  exceedingly  ignorant ;  yet  they  have 
precious  souls,  and  the  Lord  often  calls  such. 
I  pray  the  Lord  to  make  you  wise  to  win 
souls.  I  hope  he  will.  You  cannot  be  too 
jealous  of  your  own  heart :  but  let  not  such 

instances   as    Mr.    M discourage   you. 

Cry  to  him  who  is  able  to  hold  you  up,  that 
you  may  be  safe,  and  you  shall  not  cry  in 
vain.  It  is,  indeed,  an  alarming  thought, 
that  a  man  may  pray  and  preach,  be  useful 
and  acceptable  for  a  time,  and  yet  be  noth- 
ing. But  still  the  foundation  of  God  stand- 
eth  sure.  I  have  a  good  hope,  that  I  shall 
never  have  cause  to  repent  the  part  I  have 
taken  in  your  concerns.  While  you  keep  in 
the  path  of  duty,  you  will  find  it  the  path  of 
safety.  Be  punctual  in  waiting  upon  God 
in  secret.  This  is  the  life  of  every  thing  ;  the 
only  way,  and  the  sure  way  of  maintaining' 
and  renewing  your  strength. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTERS 


THE  REVEREND  MR. 


LETTER  I. 

June  29,  1757. 
DEAR  SIR, — I  endeavour  to  be  mindful  of 
you  in  my  prayers,  that  you  may  find  both 
satisfaction  and  success,  and  that  tlie  Lord 
himself  may  be  your  light,  to  discover  to  you 
every  part  of  your  duty.  I  would  earnestly 
press  you  and  myself  to  be  followers  of 
those  who  liave  been  followers  of  Christ; 
to  aim  at  a  life  of  self-denial ;  to  renounce 
self-will,  and  to  guard  against  self- wis- 
dom. The  less  we  have  to  do  with  the 
world  tiie  better;  and,  even  in  conversing 
with  our  brethren,  we  have  been,  and  unless 
we  watch  and  pray,  shall  often  be  ensnared. 
Time  is  precious,  and  opportunities  once 
gone,  are  gone  for  ever.  Even  by  reading, 
and  what  we  call  studying,  we  may  be  com- 
paratively losers.  The  shorter  way  is  to  be 
closely  waiting  upon  God  in  humble,  secret, 
fervent  prayer.  The  treasures  of  wisdom 
and  knowlodge  are  in  his  hands ;  and  he 
gives  bountifully,  without  upbraiding.  On 
the  other  hand,  whatever  we  may  undertake 
with  a  sincere  desire  to  promote  his  glory, 
we  may  comfortably  pursue ;  nothing  is  trivial 
that  is  done  for  him.  In  this  view,  I  would 
have  you,  at  proper  intervals,  pursue  your 
studies,  especially  at  those  times  when  you 
are  unfit  for  better  work.  Pray  for  me,  that 
I  may  be  enabled  to  break  through  the  snares 
of  vanity  that  lie  in  my  way;  that  I  may  be 
crucified  with  Christ,  and  live  a  hidden  life 
by  faith  in  him  who  loved  me  and  gave  him- 
self for  me. — Adieu. 


LETTER  IL 

August  31,  1757. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  wish  you  much  of  that  spirit 

which  was  in  the  apostle,  which  made  him 

content  to  become  all  things  to  all  men,  that 

he  might  gain  some.     I  am  persuaded  that 


love  and  humility  are  the  highest  attainments 
in  the  school  of  Christ,  and  the  brightest  evi- 
dences that  he  is  indeed  our  master.  If  any 
should  seem  inclined  to  treat  you  with  less 
regard,  because  you  are  or  have  been  a 
Methodist  teacher,  you  will  find  forbearance, 
meekness,  and  long-suffering,  the  most  pre- 
vailing means  to  conquer  their  prejudices. 
Our  Lord  has  not  only  taught  us  to  expect 
persecution  from  the  world,  though  this  alone 
is  a  trial  too  hard  for  flesh  and  blood ;  but  we 
must  look  for  what  is  much  more  grievous 
to  a  renewed  mind ;  to  be  in  some  respects 
slighted,  censured,  and  misunderstood,  even 
by  our  christian  brethren,  and  that,  perhaps, 
in  cases  where  we  are  really  striving  to  pro- 
mote the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  souls, 
and  cannot,  without  the  reproach  of  our  con- 
sciences, alter  our  conduct,  however  glad  we 
should  be  to  have  their  approbation.  There- 
fore, we  are  required,  not  only  to  resist  the 
world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  but  likewise 
to  bear  one  another's  burdens:  which  plainly 
intimates  there  will  be  something  to  be  borne 
with  on  all  hands ;  and  happy  indeed  is  he 
that  is  not  oflfended.  You  may  observe  what 
unjust  reports  and  surmises  were  received, 
even  at  Jerusalem,  concerning  the  apostle 
Paul :  and  it  seems  he  was  condemned  un- 
heard, and  that  by  many  thousands  too. 
Acts  xxi.  20,  21  :  but  we  do  not  find  that  he 
was  at  all  ruffled,  or  that  he  sought  to  retort 
any  thing  upon  them,  though  doubtless,  had 
he  been  so  disposed,  he  might  have  found 
something  to  have  charged  them  with  in  his 
turn ;  but  he  calmly  and  willingly  complied 
with  every  thing  in  his  power  to  soften 
and  convince  them.  Let  us  be  followers  of 
this  pattern,  so  far  as  he  was  a  follower  of 
Christ ;  for  even  Christ  pleased  not  himself. 
How  did  he  bear  with  the  mistakes,  weak- 
ness, intemperate  zeal,  and  imprudent  propo- 
sals of  his  disciples,  while  on  earth ;  and  how 
does  he  bear  with  the  same  things  from  you 
and  me,  and  every  one  of  his  followers  now  1 
'  315 


318 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR. 


[let.   III. 


and  do  wc,  can  wo,  think  much  to  bear  with 
each  other  lor  his  t^uke  !  Have  we  all  a  full 
remission  of  ten  thousand  talents,  whicli  we 
owed  him,  and  were  utterly  unable  to  pay, 
and  do  we  wrangle  amongst  ourselves  for  a 
few  p'jnce  !     God  forbid  ! 

If  you  sliould  be  nimibered  among  the  re- 
gular Independents,  1  advise  you  not  to  of- 
fend any  of  them  by  unnecessary  singulari- 
ties. I  wish  you  not  to  part  with  any  truth, 
or  with  any  thing  really  expedient;  but  if 
the  omitting  any  thing  of  an  indifferent  na- 
ture will  obviate  prejudices,  and  increase  a 
mutual  confidence,  why  should  not  so  easy 
a  sacrifice  be  made  ]  Above  all,  my  dear 
friend,  let  us  keep  close  to  the  Lord  in  a  way 
of  prayer :  he  giveth  wisdom  that  is  profita- 
ble to  direct;  he  is  the  Wonderful  Coun- 
sellor; there  is  no  teacher  like  him.  Why 
do  the  living  seek  to  the  dead  1  W^hy  do  we 
weary  our  friends  and  ourselves  in  running 
up  and  down,  and  turning  over  books  for  ad- 
vice ]  If  we  shut  our  eyes  upon  the  world 
and  worldly  things,  and  raise  our  thoughts 
upwards  in  humility  and  silence,  should  we 
not  often  hear  the  secret  voice  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  whispering  to  our  hearts,  and  pointing 
out  to  us  the  way  of  truth  and  peace  !  Have 
we  not  often  gone  astray,  and  hurt  either 
ourselves  or  our  brethren,  for  want  of  attend- 
ing to  this  divine  instruction  ?  Have  we  not 
sometimes  mocked  God,  by  pretending  to  ask 
direction  from  him,  when  we  had  fixed  our 
determination  beforehand  !  It  is  a  great 
blessing  to  know  that  we  are  sincere;  and 
next  to  this,  to  be  convinced  of  our  insin- 
cerity, and  to  pray  against  it. — I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  III. 

November  21,  1757. 
DEAR  SIR, — Can  you  forgive  so  negligent 
a  correspondent  ?  I  am  indeed  ashamed  ;  but 
(if  that  is  any  good  excuse)  I  use  you  no 
worse  than  my  other  friends.  Whenever  I 
write,  I  am  obliged  to  begin  with  an  apology ; 
for,  what  with  business  and  the  incidental 
duties  of  every  day,  my  time  is  always  mort- 
gaired  before  it  comes  into  my  hands,  especi- 
ally as  I  have  so  little  skill  in  redeeming  and 
improving  it.  I  Ion?  to  hear  from  you,  and 
I  long  to  see  you ;  and  indeed,  from  the  terms 
of  yours,  I  expected  you  here  before  this ; 
which  has  been  partly  a  cause  of  my  delay. 
I  have  mislaid  your  letter,  and  cannot  re- 
member the  particulars;  in  general,  I  re- 
member you  were  well,  and  going  on  com- 
fortably in  your  work ;  which  was  matter  of 
joy  to  me ;  and  my  poor  prayers  are  for  you, 
that  the  Lord  may  own  and  prosper  you  more 
and  more.  The  two  great  points  we  are 
called  to  pursue  in  this  sinful  divided  world, 
are  peace  and  holiness ;  I  hope  you  are  much 


in  the  study  of  them.  These  arc  the  peculiar 
characteristics  of  a  disciple  of  Jesus ;  they 
are  the  richest  part  of  the  enjoyments  of 
lieaven  ;  and  so  far  as  they  are  received  into 
the  heart,  they  bring  down  heaven  upon 
earth ;  and  they  are  more  inseparably  con- 
nected between  themselves  than  eome  of  us 
are  aware  of  The  longer  I  live,  the  more 
I  see  of  the  vanity  and  the  sinfulness  of  our 
unchristian  disputes;  they  eat  up  the  very 
vitals  of  religion.  I  grieve  to  think  how 
often  I  have  lost  my  time  and  my  temper 
that  way,  in  presuming  to  regulate  the  vine- 
yards of  others,  when  I  have  neglected  my 
own  ;  when  the  beam  in  my  own  eye  has  so 
contracted  my  sight,  that  I  could  discern  no- 
thing but  the  mote  in  my  neighbour's.  I 
am  now  desirous  to  choose  a  better  part. 
Could  I  speak  the  publican's  word  with  a 
proper  feeling,  I  wish  not  for  the  tongue  of 
men  or  angels  to  fight  about  notions  or  senti- 
ments. I  allow  that  every  branch  of  gospel- 
truth  is  precious,  that  errors  are  abounding, 
and  that  it  is  our  duty  to  bear  an  honest  tes- 
timony to  what  the  Lord  has  enabled  us  to 
find  comfort  in,  and  to  instruct  with  meek- 
ness such  as  are  willing  to  be  instructed ; 
but  I  cannot  see  it  my  duty,  nay,  I  believe 
it  would  be  my  sin,  to  attempt  to  beat  my 
notions  into  other  people's  heads.  Too  often 
I  have  attempted  it  in  time  past ;  but  now  I 
judge,  that  both  my  zeal  and  my  weapons 
were  carnal.  When  our  dear  Lord  questioned 
Peter,  after  his  fall  and  recovery,  he  said 
not.  Art  thou  wise,  learned,  and  eloquent  ■? 
Nay,  he  said  not,  Art  thou  clear,  and  sound, 
and  orthodox  ?  But  this  only,  "  Lovest  thou, 
me  I"  An  answer  to  this  was  sufficient  then  ; 
why  not  now  1  Any  other  answer,  we  may 
believe,  would  have  been  insufficient  then.  If 
Peter  had  made  the  most  pompous  confession 
of  his  faith  and  sentiments,  still  the  first 
question  would  have  recurred,  "  Lovest  thou 
me  ?"  This  is  a  scripture  precedent.  Happy 
the  preacher,  whoever  he  be,  my  heart  and 
my  prayers  are  with  him,  who  can  honestly 
and  steadily  appropriate  Peter's  answer. 
Such  a  man  I  say,  I  am  ready  to  hear,  though 
he  should  be  as  much  mistaken  in  some 
points  as  Peter  afterwards  appears  to  have 
been  in  others.  What  a  pity  is  it,  that 
christians  in  succeeding  ages  should  think 
the  constraining  force  of  tlie  love  of  Christ 
too  weak,  and  suppose  the  end  better  an- 
swered by  forms,  subscriptions,  and  questions^ 
of  their  own  devising !  I  cannot  acquit  even 
those  churches  who  judge  themselvos  near- 
est the  primitive  rule  in  this  respect:  alas! 
will-worsiiip  and  presumption  may  creep  into 
the  best  external  forms.  But  the  misfor- 
tune both  in  churches  and  private  christians 
is,  that  we  are  too  prone  rather  to  compare 
ourselves  with  others,  than  to  judge  by  the 
scriptures ;  and  while  each  can  see  that  thej^ 
irive  not  into  the  errors  and  mistakes  of  tho 


LETTKRS  TO  THE  REV.  MR. 


im 


opposite  party,  botli  aro  roaily  to  conclude 
tlmt  Ihoy  are  ri«,'lit :  ami  thus  it  hnpjM>ns,  that 
nn  attai-lunonl  ti)  a  .sup|X).sf(l  gospcl-onlrr 
will  reconimt'iul  a  man  KH)iirran(l  Ihrtlirr  to 
some  churches,  than  an  omincncy  orp().><|H'l- 
practicc.  I  hope  y*>u  will  boware  oft-uch  a 
spirit,  whenever  you  j)ul)licly  assume  the  In- 
dependent character;  this,  like  a  worm  at 
the  root,  has  nipt  the  j^races,  and  hindered  the 
usefulness  of  many  a  valuable  man;  and 
those  who  change  sides  and  opinions  are  the 
most  liable  to  it.  For  tiie  pride  of  our  heart 
insensibly  prompts  us  to  cast  about  far  and 
near  for  arguments  to  justify  our  own  beha- 
viour, and  makes  us  too  ready  to  hold  the 
opinions  we  have  taken  up  to  the  very  ex- 
treme, that  those  amongst  whom  we  are 
newly  come  may  not  suspect  our  sincerity. 
In  a  word,  let  us  endeavour  to  keep  close  to 
God,  to  be  much  in  prayer,  to  watch  care- 
fully over  our  hearts,  and  leave  the  busy 
warm  spirits  to  make  the  best  of  their  work. 
The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that 
fear  him,  and  that  wait  on  him  continually ; 
to  these  he  will  show  his  covenant,  not  no- 
tionally,  but  experimentally.  A  few  minutes 
of  the  Spirit's  teaching  will  furnish  us  with 
more  real  useful  knowledge,  than  toiling 
through  whole  folios  of  commentators  and 
expositors.  They  are  useful  in  their  places, 
and  are  not  to  be  undervalued  by  those  who  can 
perhaps  in  general  do  better  without  them  ; 
but  it  will  be  our  wisdom  to  deal  less  with 
the  streams,  and  be  more  close  in  applying 
to  the  fountain  head.  The  scripture  itself, 
and  the  Spirit  of  God,  are  the  best  and  the 
only  sufficient  expositors  of  scripture.  What- 
ever men  have  valuable  in  their  writings, 
they  got  it  from  hen:c;  and  the  way  is  as 
open  to  us  as  to  any  of  them.  There  is  no- 
thing required  but  a  teachable  humble  spirit; 
and  learning,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  is  not 
necessary  in  order  to  this.  I  commend  you 
to  the  grace  of  God,  and  remain — Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

Jan.  10,  1760. 
DEAR  SFR, — I  have  procured  Cennick's 
sermons;  they  are,  in  my  judgment,  sound 
and  sweet.  O  that  you  and  I  had  a  double 
portion  of  that  spirit  and  unction  which  is  in 
them.  Come,  let  us  not  despair ;  the  foun- 
tain is  as  full  and  as  free  as  ever ; — precious 
fountain,  ever  flowing  with  blood  and  water, 
milk  and  wine.  This  is  the  stream  that 
heals  the  wounded,  refreshes  the  weary,  sa- 
tisfies the  hungry,  strengthens  the  weak,  and 
confirms  the  strong;  it  opens  the  eyes  of  the 
blind,  softens  the  heart  of  stone,  teaches  the 
dumb  to  sing,  and  enables  the  lame  and 
paralytic  to  walk,  to  leap,  to  run,  to  fly,  to 
mount  up  with  eagles'  wings :  a  taste  of  this 


stream  raiHos  earth  to  heaven,  and  hrin;ji 
down  heaven  u[)<)n  earth.  Nor  i.s  it  a  foun- 
tain only  ;  it  i.s  a.  universal  ble^;Hing,  and  as- 
sumes a  variety  ofKJinpesto  huit  ilM-If  to  our 
wants.  It  is  a  sun,  a  shield,  a  gnrtnrnL,  a 
shade,  a  banner,  a  refuge:  it  is  bread,  tho 
true  bread,  the  very  slafl'of  life:  it  in  life  it- 
self, inmiortal,  eternal  life ! 

Tho  rrom  of  Jesus  Chrint  my  I^rd, 

Is  fcxxi  and  mcd'cine,  shield  and  sword. 

Take  that  for  your  motto;  wear  it  in  your 
heart ;  keep  it  in  your  eye ;  have  it  oflen  in 
your  mouth  till  you  can  find  something  better. 
The  cross  of  Christ  is  the  tree  of  life  and 
the  tree  of  knowledge  combined.  Blessed  be 
God,  there  is  neither  prohibition  nor  flaming 
sword  to  keep  us  back;  but  it  stands  like  a 
tree  by  the  highway-side,  which  aflbrds  ita 
shade  to  every  passenger  without  distinction. 
Watch  and  pray.  We  live  in  a  sifting  time; 
(  rror  gains  ground  every  day.  May  the  name 
and  love  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  keep  us  and  all 
his  people.  Either  write  or  come  very  soon 
to, — Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

November  15,  1760. 

DEAR  SIR, — If  your  visit  should  be  delayed, 
let  me  have  a  letter.  I  want  either  good 
news  or  good  advice  ;  to  hear  that  your  soul 
prospers,  or  to  receive  something  that  may 
quicken  my  own.  The  apostle  says,  "Ye 
know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :" 
alas !  we  know  how  to  say  something  about 
it,  but  how  faint  and  feeble  are  our  real  per- 
ceptions of  it !  Our  love  to  him  is  the  proof 
and  measure  of  what  we  know  of  his  love  to 
us.  Surely  then  we  are  mere  children  in 
this  kind  of  knowledge,  and  every  other  kind 
is  vain.  What  should  we  think  of  a  man 
who  should  neglect  his  business,  family,  and 
all  the  comforts  of  life,  that  he  might  study 
the  Chinese  language ;  though  he  knows  be- 
forehand he  should  never  be  able  to  attain 
it,  nor  ever  find  occasion  or  opportunity  to 
use  itl  The  pursuit  of  every  branch  of 
knowledge  that  is  not  closely  connected 
with  the  one  thing  needful,  is  no  less  ridi- 
culous. 

You  know  something  of  our  friend  Mrs. 

B .     She  has  been  more  than  a  month 

confined  to  her  bed,  and  I  believe  her  next 
remove  will  be  to  her  coffin.  The  Lord  lias 
done  great  things  for  her.  Though  she  has 
been  a  serious  exemplary  person  all  her  life, 
when  the  prospect  of  death  presented,  she  be- 
gan to  cry  out  earnestly,  "  What  shall  I  do 
to  be  saved  !"  But  her  solicitude  is  at  an  end ; 
she  has  seen  the  salvation  of  Go<l,  and  now  for 
the  most  part  rejoices  in  something  more  than 
hope.     This  you  will  account  good  news,  I 


318 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR. 


[let.  VII. 


am  sure.  Let  it  be  your  encouragement  and 
mine.  The  Lord's  arm  is  not  shortened,  nor 
is  his  presence  removed  ;  he  is  near  us  still, 
though  we  perceive  him  not.  May  he  guide 
you  with  his  eye  in  all  your  public  and  pri- 
vate concerns:,  and  may  he  in  particular  bless 
our  communications  to  our  mutual  advantage. 
I  am,  &,c. 


LETTER  VI. 

July  29,  176L 
DEAR  SIR, — Are  the  quarrels  made  up  ? 
Tell  those  who  know  what  communion  with 
Jesus  is  worth,  that  they  will  never  be  able 
to  maintain  it,  if  they  give  way  to  the  work- 
ings of  pride,  jealousy,  and  anger.  This  will 
provoke  the  Lord  to  leave  them  dry,  to  com- 
mand the  clouds  of  his  grace  that  they  rain  no 
rain  upon  them.  These  things  are  sure  signs 
of  a  low  frame,  and  a  sure  way  to  keep  it  so. 
Could  they  be  prevailed  upon,  from  a  sense 
of  the  pardoning  love  of  God  to  their  own 
souls,  to  forgive  each  other,  as  the  Lord  for- 
gives us,  freely,  fully,  without  condition  and 
without  reserve,  they  would  find  this  like 
breaking  down  a  stone  wall,  which  has  hither- 
to shut  up  their  prayers  from  the  Lord's  ears, 
and  shut  out  his  blessing  from  filling  their 
hearts.  Tell  them,  I  hope  to  hear  that  ail 
animosities,  little  and  big,  are  buried  by  mu- 
tual consent,  in  the  Redeemer's  grave.  Alas  ! 
the  people  of  God  have  enemies  enough : 
Why,  then,  will  they  weaken  their  own 
hands]  Why  will  they  help  their  enemies 
to  pull  down  the  Lord's  work  ]  Why  will 
they  grieve  those  that  wish  them  well,  cause 
the  weak  to  stumble,  the  wicked  to  rejoice, 
and  bring  a  reproach  upon  their  holy  profes- 
sion? Indeed,  this  is  no  light  matter;  I 
wish  it  may  not  lead  them  to  something 
worse ;  I  wish  they  may  be  w^ise  in  time, 
lest  Satan  gains  further  advantage  over 
them,  and  draw  them  to  something  that  shall 
make  them  (as  David  did)  roar  under  the 
pains  of  broken  bones.  But  I  must  break 
off.  May  God  give  you  wisdom,  faithful- 
ness, and  patience.  Take  care  that  you  do 
not  catch  an  angry  spirit  yourself,  while  you 
aim  to  suppress  it  in  others ;  this  will  spoil 
all,  and  you  will  exhort,  advise,  and  weep  in 
vain.  May  you  rather  be  an  example  and  pat- 
tern to  the  flock ;  and  in  this  view,  be  not  sur- 
prised if  you  yourself  meet  some  hard  usage  ; 
rather  rejoice  that  you  will  thereby  have 
an  opportunity  to  exemplify  your  own  rules, 
and  to  convince  your  people,  that  what  you 
recommend  to  them  you  do  not  speak  by 
rote,  but  from  the  experience  of  your  heart. 
One  end  why  our  Lord  was  tempted,  was 
for  the  encouragement  of  his  poor  followers, 
that  they  might  know  him  to  be  a  High- 
Priest  suited  to  them,  having  had  a  fellow- 


feeling  in  their  distresses.  For  the  like 
reason,  he  appoints  his  ministers  to  be  sorely 
exercised  both  from  without  and  within,  that 
they  may  sympathize  with  their  flock,  and 
know  in  their  own  hearts  the  deccitfulness 
of  sin,  the  infirmities  of  the  flesh,  and  the 
way  in  which  the  Lord  supports  and  bears 
with  all  that  trust  him.  Therefore  be  not 
discouraged  ;  usefulness  and  trials,  comforts 
and  crosses,  strength  and  exercise,  go  to- 
gether. But  remember  he  has  said,  "  1  will 
never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee  ;  be  thou 
faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a 
crown  of  life."  When  you  get  to  heaven, 
you  will  not  complain  of  the  way  by  which 
the  Lord  brought  you.  Farewell.  Pray  for 
us. — Yours,  &LQ. 


LETTER  VII. 

Dec.  14,  1761. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  pray  the  Lord  to  accompany 
you ;  but  cannot  help  fearing  you  go  on  too 
fast.  If  you  have  not  (as  1  am  sure  you 
ought  not)  made  an  absolute  promise,  but 
only  conditional,  you  need  not  be  so  solicit- 
ous; depend  upon  it,  when  the  Lord  is  pleas- 
ed to  remove  you,  he  will  send  one  to  supply 
your  place.  I  am  grieved  that  your  mind  is 
so  set  upon  a  step,  which,  I  fear,  will  occa- 
sion many  inconveniences  to  a  people  who 
have  deserved  your  best  regard.  Others 
may  speak  you  fairer,  but  none  wishes  you 
better  than  myself;  tlierefore  I  hope  you  al- 
low me  to  speak  my  mind  plainly,  and  be- 
lieve that  it  is  no  pleasure  to  me  to  oppose 
your  inclinations.  As  to  your  saying  they 
will  take  no  denial,  it  has  no  weight  with 
me.  Had  they  asked  what  you  were  ex- 
ceedingly averse  to,  you  would  soon  have  ex- 
pressed yourself  so  as  to  convince  them  it 
was  to  no  purpose  to  urge  you ;  but  they 
saw  something  in  your  manner  or  language 
that  encouraged  them  ;  they  saw^  the  propo- 
sal was  agreeable  to  you,  that  you  were  not 
at  all  unwilling  to  exchange  your  old  friends 
for  new  ones;  and  this  is  the  reason  they 
would  take  no  denial.  If  you  should  live  to 
see  those  who  are  most  forward  in  pressing 
you  become  the  first  to  discourage  you,  you 
will  think  seriously  of  my  words. 

If  I  thought  my  advice  would  prevai\  it 
should  be  this :  call  the  people  together,  aid 
desire  them,  if  possible,  to  forget  you  ever  in- 
tended to  depart  from  them :  and  promise  not 
to  think  of  a  removal,  till  the  Lord  shall  make 
your  way  so  clear,  that  even  they  shall  have 
nothing  reasonable  to  object  against  it  You 
may  keep  your  word  with  your  other  friends 
too ;  for  when  a  proper  person  shall  offer,  as 
likely  to  please  and  satisfy  tlie  people  as  your- 
self, I  will  give  my  hearty  consent  to  your 
removal. 


LET.  VIII.] 


ij!:ttkrs  to  the  rev.  mr. 


319 


Con.sider  what  it  is  you  would  have  in  your 
office,  but  inuititonance,  nccfpttincc,  and  suc- 
ce{?s.  Have  you  not  those  where  you  are? 
Are  you  t^ure  of  havin;r  thmi  whore  you  are 
poinjjl  Are  you  sure  the  Spirit  of  (JckI 
(without  whirh  you  will  do  nothiuf:)  will  be 
with  you  there,  as  he  has  been  with  you 
hitherto!  Perhaps,  it'  you  act  in  your  own 
ppirit  you  may  find  as  tjreat  a  chanffe  as 
Samson.  I  am  ready  to  weep  when  1  think 
what  dit!iculties  were  surmounted  to  accom- 
plish your  ordination;  anil  now,  when  the 
people  thought  themselv<\s  fixed,  that  you 
should  60  soon  disappoint  them. — Yours,  &lc. 


LETTER  VIII. 

Fehrnary  1.5,  17G2. 
DEAR  SIR, — I  have  been  often  thinking-  of 
you  since  your  removal,  and  was  glad  to  re- 
ceive your  letter  to-day,  I  hope  you  will 
still  go  on  to  fmd  more  and  more  encourage- 
ment to  believe,  that  the  Lord  has  disposed 
and  led  you  to  the  step  you  have  taken.  For 
though  i  wrote  with  the  greatest  plainness 
and  earnestness,  and  would,  if  in  my  power, 
have  prevented  it  while  under  deliberation, 
yet,  now  it  is  done  and  past  recall,  I  would 
rather  help  than  dishearten  you.  Indeed,  I 
cannot  say  that  my  view  of  the  affair  is  yet 
altered.  The  best  way  not  to  be  cast  down 
hereafter,  is  not  to  be  too  sanguine  at  first. 
You  know  there  is  sometiiing  pleasing  in 
novelty  ;  as  yet  you  are  new  to  them,  and 
they  to  you :  I  pray  God,  that  you  may  find 
as  cordial  a  regard  from  them  as  at  present, 
when  you  have  been  with  tiiem  as  many 
years  as  in  the  place  you  came  from.  And 
if  you  have  grace  to  be  watciiful  and  prayer- 
ful, all  will  be  well ;  for  we  serve  a  gracious 
Master,  who  knows  how  to  overrule  even 
our  mistakes  to  his  glory  and  our  own  advan- 
tage. Yet  I  observe,  that  when  we  do  wrong, 
sooner  or  later  we  smart  for  our  indiscretion, 
perhaps  many  years  aflerwards.  Afler  we 
have  seen  and  confessed  our  fault,  and  re- 
ceived repeated  proofs  of  pardoning  love,  as 
to  the  guilt,  yet  chastisement,  to  remind  us 
more  sensibly  of  our  having  done  amiss,  will 
generally  find  us  out.  So  it  was  with  David 
in  the  matter  of  Uriah  ;  the  Lord  put  away 
his  sin,  healed  his  broken  bones,  and  restored 
unto  him  the  light  of  his  countenance;  yet 
many  troubles,  in  consequence  of  this  affair, 
followed  one  upon  another,  till  at  length 
(many  years  afterwards)  he  was  driven  from 
Jerusalem  by  his  own  son.  So  it  was  with 
Jacob :  he  dealt  deceitfully  with  his  brother 
Esau ;  notwithstanding  this  the  Lord  ap- 
peared to  him  and  blessed  him,  gave  him 
comtbrtable  promises,  and  revealed  himself 
to  him  from  time  to  time ;  yet  after  an  inter- 
val of  twenty  years,  his  fault  was  brought 


afresh  to  his  rcmenihrnnre,  and  his  henrt 
trembled  within  iiim,  when  he  heard  bin 
brother  was  coming  w  ith  armed  men  to  meet 
him.  And  thus  I  have  foimd  it  in  my  own 
experience;  things  which  I  had  (Ijrgotten  a 
long  while  have  been  brought  to  uiy  miiui 
by  providential  dispensations  which  I  little 
expected  ;  but  the  first  rise  of  which  I  have 
been  able  to  trace  far  back,  and  forced  to 
confess,  tfuit  the  Lord  is  indeed  He  that  judg- 
eth  the  heart  and  trieth  the  reins,  1  hint 
this  for  your  caution;  you  know  best  upon 
what  grounds  you  have  proceeded  ;  but  if 
(though  I  do  not  affirm  it,  I  hope  other- 
wise,) I  say,  if  you  have  acted  too  much  in 
your  own  spirit,  been  too  hasty  and  precipi- 
tate; if  you  have  not  been  sufficiently  tender 
of  your  people,  nor  thoughtful  of  the  conse- 
quences which  your  departure  will  probably 
involve  them  in ;  if  you  were  impatient  un- 
der the  Lord's  hand,  and,  instead  of  waiting 
his  time  and  way  of  removing  the  trials  and 
difficulties  you  found,  you  have  ventured 
upon  an  attempt  to  free  and  mend  yourself; 
1  say,  if  any  of  these  things  have  mixed  with 
your  determinations,  something  will  fall  out 
to  show  you  your  fault:  either  you  will  not 
find  the  success  you  hope  for,  or  friends  will 
grow  cold,  or  enemies  and  difficulties  you 
dream  not  of,  will  present  themselves ;  or 
your  own  mind  will  alter,  so  as  what  seems 
now  most  pleasant  will  afibrd  you  little  plea- 
sure. Yet,  though  I  write  thus,  I  do  not 
mean,  as  I  said  before,  to  discourage  you, 
but  that  you  may  be  forewarned,  humble,  and 
watchful.  If  you  should  at  any  time  have  a 
different  view  of  things,  you  may  take  com- 
fort from  the  instances  I  have  mentioned. 
The  trials  of  David  and  Jacob  were  sharp, 
but  they  were  short ;  and  they  proved  to  their 
advantage,  put  them  upon  acts  of  humiliation 
and  prayer,  and  ended  in  a  double  blessing. 
Nothing  can  harm  us  that  quickens  our  ear- 
nestness and  frequency  in  applying  to  a 
throne  of  grace :  only  trust  the  Lord,  and 
keep  close  to  him,  and  all  that  befalls  you 
shall  be  for  good.  Temptations  end  in  vic- 
tory; troubles  prove  an  increase  of  consola- 
tion; yea,  our  very  falls  and  failings  tend  to 
increase  our  spiritual  wisdom,  to  give  us  a 
greater  knowledge  of  Satan's  devices,  and 
make  us  more  habitually  upon  our  guard 
against  them.  Happy  case  of  the  believer 
in  Jesus !  when  bitten  by  the  fiery  serpent 
he  needs  not  go  far  for  a  remedy ;  he  has  only 
to  look  to  a  bleeding  Saviour,  and  be  healed. 
I  think  one  great  advantage  that  attends  a 
removal  into  a  new  place  is,  that  it  gives  an 
easy  opportunity  of  forming  a  new  plan,  and 
breaking  off  any  little  habits  which  we  have 
found  inconvenient,  and  yet,  perhaps,  could 
not  so  readily  lay  aside,  where  our  customs 
and  acquaintance  had  been  long  formed.  I 
earnestly  recommend  to  you  to  reflect,  if 
you  cannot  recollect  some  tilings  which  you 


520 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR. 


[liET.  VIIL 


have  hitherto  omitted,  which  miy  properly 
be  now  taken  up;  some  things  formerly  al- 
lowed, which  may  now  with  ease  and  con- 
venience be  laid  aside,  I  only  give  the  hint 
in  general ;  for  I  have  nothing  in  particular 
to  cliarge  you  with.  I  recommend  to  you  to 
be  very  choice  of  your  time,  especially  the 
fore  part  of  the  day.  Let  your  morning 
hours  be  devoted  to  prayer,  rcadino-,  and 
study ;  and  suffer  not  the  importunity  of 
friends  to  rob  you  of  the  hours  before  noon, 
without  a  just  necessity:  and  if  you  accustom 
yourself  to  rise  early  in  the  morning,  you 
will  find  a  great  advantage.  Be  careful  to 
avoid  losing  your  thoughts,  whether  in  books 
or  otherwise,  upon  any  subject  which  are 
not  of  a  direct  subserviency  to  your  great  de- 
sign, till  towards  dinner-time.  The  atler- 
noon  is  not  so  favourable  to  study :  this  is  a 
proper  time  for  paying  and  receiving  visits, 
conversing  among  your  friends,  or  unbending 
with  a  book  of  instructive  entertainment, 
such  as  history,  &c.  which  may  increase 
your  general  knowledge,  without  a  great 
confinement  of  your  attention ;  but  let  the 
morning  hours  be  sacred.  I  think  you  would 
likewise  find  advantage  in  using  your  pen 
more.  Write  short  notes  upon  the  scriptures 
you  read,  or  transcribe  the  labours  of  others ; 
make  extracts  from  your  favourite  authors, 
especially  those  who,  besides  a  fund  of  spirit- 
ual and  evangelical  matter,  have  a  happy 
talent  of  expressing  their  thoughts  in  a  clear 
and  lively,  or  pathetic  manner.  You  would 
find  a  continued  exercise  in  this  way  would 
be  greatly  useful  to  form  your  own  style, 
and  help  your  delivery  and  memory;  you 
would  become  insensibly  master  of  their 
thoughts,  and  find  it  more  easy  to  express 
yourself  justly  and  clearly :  what  we  read  we 
easily  lose,  but  what  we  commit  to  paper  is 
not  so  soon  forgot.  Especially  remember 
(what  you  well  know,  but  we  cannot  too 
often  remind  each  other,)  that  frequent  secret 
prayer  is  the  life  of  all  we  do.  If  any  man 
lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  and  it  shall 
bo  given ;  but  all  our  diligence  will  fail,  if 
we  are  remiss  in  this  particular.  I  am  glad 
it  is  not  thought  necessary  for  you  to  go  to 
London  on  this  occasion.  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  it  necessary  upon  any  olher  ac- 
count. Rather  keep  close  to  the  work  you 
have  undertaken,  and  endeavour  to  avoid  any 
thing  that  looks  like  ostentation,  or  a  desire 
to  be  taken  notice  of  You  see  I  advise  you 
with  the  freedom  of  a  friend  who  loves  you, 
and  longs  to  see  your  work  and  your  soul 
prosper. 

You  will,  I  doubt  not,  endeavour  to  pro- 
mote the  practice  of  frequent  prayer  in  the 
houses  that  receive  you.  I  look  upon  prayer- 
meetings  as  the  most  profitable  exercises 
(excepting  the  public  preaching)  in  which 
christians  can  engage:  they  hive  a  direct 
tendency  to  kill  a  worldly,  trifling  spirit,  to 


draw  down  a  divine  blessing  upon  oil  our 
concerns,  compose  differences,  and  enkindle 
(at  least  to  maintain)  the  tlame  of  divine  love 
amongst  brethren.  But  I  need  not  tell  you 
the  advantages;  you  know  them;  I  only 
would  exhort  you,  and  the  rather  as  I  find 
in  my  own  case  the  principal  cause  of  my 
leanness  and  unfruitfulness  is  owing  to  an 
unaccountable  backwardness  to  pray.  I  can 
write,  or  read,  or  converse,  or  hear,  with  a 
ready  will ;  but  prayer  is  more  spiritual  and 
inward  than  any  of  these,  and  the  more  spi- 
ritual any  duty  is,  the  more  my  carnal  heart 
is  apt  to  start  from  it.  May  the  Lord  pour 
forth  his  precious  spirit  of  prayer  and  sup- 
plication in  both  our  hearts ! 

1  am  not  well  pleased  with  the  account  you 
give  of  so  many  dry  bones.  It  increases  my 
wonder,  that  you  could  so  readily  exchange 
so  much  plump  flesh  and  bl(X)d  as  you  had 
about  you  for  a  parcel  of  skeletons.  I  wish 
they  may  not  haunt  you  and  disturb  your 
peace.  I  wish  these  same  dry  bones  do  not 
prove  thorns  in  your  sides  and  in  your  eyes. 
You  say,  now  you  have  to  pray,  and  pro- 
phecy, and  wait  for  the  four  winds  to  come 
and  put  life  into  these  bones.  God  grant 
that  your  prayers  may  be  answered ;  but  if  I 
knew  a  man  who  possessed  a  field  in  a  tolera- 
ble soil,  which  had  afforded  him  some  in- 
crease every  year,  and  if  this  man,  after  hav- 
ing bestowed  seven  years'  labour  in  culti- 
vating, weeding,  manuring, fencing,  &c.,  just 
when  he  has  brought  liis  ground  fin  his 
neighbour's  judgment)  into  good  order,  and 
might  reasonably  hope  for  larger  crops  than 
he  had  ever  yet  seen,  should  suddenly  forego 
all  his  advantages,  leave  his  good  seed  for 
the  birds  to  eat,  pull  up  the  young  fences 
which  cost  him  so  much  pains  to  plant,  and 
all  this  for  the  sake  of  making  a  new  ex- 
periment upon  the  top  of  a  mountain  ;  though 
I  might  heartily  wish  him  great  success  I 
could  not  honestly  give  him  great  encourage- 
ment. You  have  parted  with  that  for  a 
trifle  which  in  my  eyes  seems  an  inestimable 
jewel,  I  mean  the  hearts  and  affections  of  an 
enlightened  people.  This  appears  to  me  one 
of  the  greatest  honours  and  greatest  plea- 
sures a  faithful  minister  can  possess,  and 
which  many  faithful  and  eminent  ministers 
have  never  been  able  to  obtain.  This  gave 
you  a  vast  advantage ;  your  gift  was  more 
acceptable  there  than  that  of  any  other  per- 
son, and  more  than  you  will  probably  find 
elsewhere.  For  I  cannot  make  a  comparison 
between  the  hasty  approbation  of  a  few^ 
whose  eyes  are  but  beginning  to  open,  and 
their  affections  and  passions  warm,  so  that 
they  must,  if  possible,  have  the  man  that  first 
catches  their  attention :  I  say,  I  cannot  think 
this  worthy  to  be  compared  to  the  regard 
of  a  people  who  understood  tlie  gospel,  were 
able  to  judge  of  men  and  doctrines,  and  had 
trial  of  you  for  so  many  years.     It  is,  indeed, 


LKTTERS  TO  TIIK  lUlV.  AIR. 


321 


niudi  to  yniir  honour  (it  proves  timt  you 
were  faithful,  tliliireut,  and  exeuiphiry,)  that 
the  pooph'  i)rove(l  so  attached  to  you ;  hut 
that  you  sliouhl  force  yourself  from  theui, 
when  tJiey  ^>o  dearly  loved  you,  and  so  much 
needed  you,  this  lias  made  all  your  friends 
in  these  j)arts  to  wonder,  and  your  enemies 
to  rejoice ;  and  I,  alas !  know  not  what  to 
answer  in  your  hehalf  to  cither.  Say  not 
*' I  hate  this  Micaiah,  for  he  prophecies  not 
good  of  me,  hut  evil,"  hut  allow  mo  the  pri- 
vilejTc  of  a  friend.  My  heart  is  full  when  I 
think  what  has  happened,  and  what  will  pro- 
bably be  the  consequence.     In  a  few  words, 


I  am  stronjifly  persuaded  you  have  taken  an 
unadvised  step,  and  would  theret()r«'  pr<'(Miro 
you  for  the  inconvenience  and  un<'fij,iin»H« 
you  may  proluihly  meet  with.  And  if  I  am 
(as  I  desire  I  may  prove)  mistaken,  my  ad- 
vice  will  do  no  harm;  you  will  want  somc- 
thinj*-  to  balance  the  caresses  and  success  you 
meet  with. 

We  should  be  very  j^lad  to  sec  you,  and 
hope  you  will  take  your  measures,  when  you 
do  come,  to  lenfjthen  your  usual  stay,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  difference  of  the  distance.  Pray 
for  us. — I  am,  &c. 


2S 


LETTERS 

TO  MRS.  P 


LETTER  I. 

May  — ,  1774. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  havG  had  sudden 
notice  that  I  may  send  you  a  hasty  line,  to 
express  our  satisfaction  in  hearing  that  you 
had  a  safe  though  perilous  journey.  I  hope 
I  shall  be  always  mindful  to  pray  that  the 
Lord  may  guide,  bless,  and  comfort  you,  and 
give  you  such  a  manifestation  of  his  person, 
power,  and  grace,  as  may  set  you  at  liberty 
from  all  fear,  and  fill  you  with  abiding  peace 
and  joy  in  believing.  Remember  that  Jesus 
has  all  power,  the  fulness  of  compassion, 
and  embraces  with  open  arms  all  that  come 
to  him  for  life  and  salvation. 

I  know  not  whether  Mrs. 's  illness 

was  before  or  since  my  last.  Through  mercy 
she  is  bette^gain ;  and  I  remain  so,  though 
death  and  illness  are  still  walking  about  the 
town.  O  for  grace  to  take  warning  by  the 
suffering  of  others,  to  sit  loose  to  the  world, 
and  so  to  number  our  days,  as  to  incline  our 
hearts  to  the  one  thing  needful !  Indeed  that 
one  thing  includes  many  things  sufficient  to 
engage  the  best  of  our  thoughts  and  the  most 
of  our  time,  if  we  were  duly  sensible  of  their 
importance ;  but  I  may  adopt  the  psalmist's 
expression,  "  My  soul  cleaveth  to  the  dust." 
How  is  it  that  the  truths  of  which  I  have  the 
most  undoubted  conviction,  and  which  are 
of  all  others  the  most  weighty,  should  make 
so  little  impression  upon  me  !  0  1  know"  the 
cause  !  it  is  deeply  rooted.  An  evil  nature 
cleaves  to  me  ;  so  that  when  I  would  do  good 
evil  is  present  with  me.  It  is,  however,  a 
mercy  to  be  made  sensible  of  it,  and  in  any 
measure  humbled  for  it.  Ere  long  it  will  be 
dropped  in  the  grave ;  then  all  compliments 
shall  cease.  That  thought  gives  relief.  I 
shall  not  always  live  this  poor  dying  life :  I 
hope  one  day  to  be  all  ear,  all  heart,  all 
tongue ;  when  I  shall  see  the  Redeemer  as  he 
is,  I  shall  be  like  him.  This  will  be  a  heaven 
indeed,  to  behold  his  glory  without  a  vail,  to 
rejoice  in  his  love  without  a  cloud,  and  to 
sing  his  praises,  without  one  jarring  or  wan- 
•dering  note,  for  ever.  In  the  mean  time, 
may  he  enable  us  to  serve  him  with  our  besu 


O  that  every  power,  faculty,  and  talent,  were 
devoted  to  him  !  he  deserves  all  we  have,  and 
ten  thousand  times  more  if  we  had  it ;  for  he 
has  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in 
his  own  blood.  He  gave  himself  for  us.  In 
one  sense  we  are  well  suited  to  answer  his 
purpose ;  for  if  we  were  not  vile  and  worth- 
less, beyond  expression,  the  exceeding  riches 
of  his  grace  would  not  have  been  so  glorious- 
ly displayed.  His  glory  shines  more  in  re- 
deeming one  sinner,  than  in  preserving  a 

thousand  angels.     Poor  Mr. is  still 

in  the  dark  valley ;  but  w:e  trust  prayer  shall 
yet  bring  him  out.  Mighty  things  have 
been  done  in  answer  to  prayer ;  and  the 
Lord's  arm  is  not  shortened,  neither  is  his 
ear  heavy.  It  is  our  part  to  wait  till  we 
have  an  answer.  One  of  his  own  h}Tims 
says, 

The  promise  may  be  long  deferr'd, 

But  never  comes  too  late. 

I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  the  death  of 

Mr.  T of  R .     This  is  apparently  a 

heavy  blow.  He  was  an  amiable,  judicious, 
candid  man,  and  an  excellent  preacher  in  a 
great  sphere  of  usefulness ;  and  his  age  and 
constitution  gave  hopes  that  he  might  have 
been  eminently  serviceable  for  many  years. 
How  often  does  the  Lord  write  Vanity  upon 
all  our  expectations  from  men.  He  visited  a 
person  ill  of  a  putrid  fever,  and  carried  the 
seeds  of  infection  with  him  to  London,  where 

he  died.     Mrs. is  a  very  excellent  and 

accomplished  woman,  but  exceedingly  deli- 
cate in  her  frame  and  spirits.  How  can  she 
bear  so  sudden  and  severe  a  stroke !  But 
yet  I  hope  site  will  afford  a  proof  of  the 
Lord's  all-sufficiency  and  faithfulness,  O 
madam,  the  Lord  our  God  is  a  great  God ! 
If  he  frowns,  the  smiles  of  the  whole  creation 
can  afford  no  comfort ;  and  if  he  is  p'vBased 
to  smile,  he  can  enable  the  soul  under  the 
darkest  dispensations  to  say,  All  is  well. 
Yet  the  flesh  will  feel,  and  it  ought :  other- 
wise the  exercise  of  faith,  patience,  and  re- 
signation, would  be  impracticable.  I  have 
lost  in  him  one  of  my  most  valued  and  valu- 
able friends ;  but  what  is  my  loss  to  that  o. 
his  people  ? 

322 


LET.  III.] 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  P- 


923 


I 


Tho  liOrd  bloty?  you  and  keep  you.  The 
Ix)rd  iucrense  you  more  nnd  inoro,  you  luul 
vour  children.  The  I^rd  litl  up  the  lijjht  of 
his  countenance  u}Km  you,  and  jxive  you  his 
peace.  I  thank  him  tor  h^adinj^  you  to  us, 
but  especially  for  uiakinjjf  your  visit  there  in 
any  measure  anrreeablc  and  profitable  to  your- 
Bclf.  If  I  have  been  an  instrument  in  his 
hand  for  your  comfort,  I  have  reason  to  re- 
member it  amonjT  the  fjreatcst  favours  he  has 
conferred  upon  me.  And  now,  dear  Madam, 
once  more  farewell.  If  the  Ix)rd  spares  our 
lives,  I  hope  we  shall  see  each  other  again 
upon  earth.  But,  above  all,  let  us  rejoice  in 
the  blessed  g-ospel,  by  which  immortality  is 
broug'lit  to  light,  and  a  glorious  prospect  open- 
ed beyond  the  grave. 

There  sits  our  Saviour  thron'd  in  light, 
Cloth'd  with  a  body  like  our  own. 

There  at  least,  after  all  the  changes  and  trials 
of  this  state,  we  shall  meet  to  part  no  more. 
— I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IL 


1775. 


MY  DEAR  MADAM,— I  should  havB  been 
more  uneasy  at  being  prevented  writing 
immediately,  had  I  any  reason  to  apprehend 
my  advice  necessary  upon  the  point  you  pro- 
pose, which,  by  this  time,  I  suppose  is  settled 
as  it  should  be  without  me.    I  smiled  at  Miss 

M 's  disappointment.     However,  if  the 

Lord  favours  her  with  a  taste  for  the  library  of 
my  proposing,  she  will  be  like  the  merchant- 
man seeking  goodly  pearls,  and  will  count 
all  other  books  but  pebbles  in  comparison  of 
those  four  volumes,  which  present  us  with 
something  new  and  important  whenever  we 
look  into  them.  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to 
her  if  she  will  commit  the  third  chapter  of 
Proverbs  to  her  memory,  and  I  shall  pray  the 
Lord  to  write  it  in  her  heart. 

You  surprise  me  when  you  tell  me,  the  in- 
cident of  my  birth-day  was  noticed  by  tliose 
I  never  saw.  Be  so  good  as  to  return  my 
thanks  to  my  unknown  friends,  and  tell  them, 
that  I  pray  our  common  Lord  and  Saviour  to 
bless  them  abundantly.  His  people  while 
here  are  scattered  abroad,  separated  by  hills 
and  rivers,  and  too  often  by  names  and  pre- 
judices; but  by  and  by  we  shall  all  meet, 
where  we  shall  all  know  and  acknowledge 
each  other,  and  rejoice  together  for  evermore. 
I  have  lately  read  with  much  pleasure,  and 
I  hope  with  some  profit,  the  history  of  the 
Greenland  Mission.  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  a 
glorious  work.  None  who  love  the  Lord 
will  refuse  to  say,  it  is  the  finger  of  God 
indeed.  For  my  own  part,  my  soul  rejoices 
in  it :  and  I  honour  the  instruments,  as  men 
who  have  hazarded  their  lives  in  an  extra- 


ordinary manner  tor  the  sake  of  the  Ix)rd 
JesuH.  Sure  1  am  that  none  could  have  hub- 
tained  such  discouragcinonts  at  firnt,  or  have 
obtained  such  succ(.'ss  afterwards,  unhsa  tho 
Ix)rd  had  sent,  supporte<l,  and  owned  tliem. 

I  hope  wo  shall  liave  an  interest  in  your 
prayers.  I  trust  tlie  I^rd  is  yet  with  us. 
We  have  some  ripe  for  the  sickle,  and  some 
just  springing  up ;  some  tokens  of  his  gracious 
presence  among  us;  but  sin  and  Satan  cut 
us  out  abundance  of  work  as  individuals, 
though,  through  mercy,  as  a  society,  we  walk 
in  peace. 

The  toad  and  spider  is  an  exhibition  of  my 
daily  experience.  I  am  often  wounded,  but 
the  Lord  is  my  health :  still  I  am  a  living 
monument  of  mercy ;  and  I  trust  that  word, 
"  Because  I  live,  you  shall  live  also,"  will 
carry  me  to  the  end.  1  am  poor,  weak,  and 
foolish ;  but  Jesus  is  wise,  strong,  and  abound- 
ing in  grace.  He  has  given  me  a  desire  to 
trust  my  all  in  his  hands,  and  he  will  not  dis- 
appoint the  expectation  whicii  he  himself  has 
raised.  At  present  I  have  but  little  to  say, 
and  but  little  time  to  say  it  in.  When  you 
think  of  this  place,  I  hope  you  will  think  and 
believe,  that  you  have  friends  here  most  cor- 
dially interested  in  your  welfare,  and  often 
remembering  you  in  prayer.  May  the  Lord 
be  your  guide  and  shield,  and  give  you  the 
best  desires  of  your  heart.  I  pray  him  to 
establish  and  settle  you  in  the  great  truths 
of  his  word.  I  trust  he  will.  We  learn 
more,  and  more  effectually,  by  one  minute's 
communication  with  him  through  the  medium 
of  his  written  word,  than  we  could  from  an 
assembly  of  divines,  or  a  library  of  books. — I 
am,  &:c. 


LETTER  HI. 

August  —  1775. 

MY     DEAR     MADAM, It     is    not    Owiug    tO 

forgetfulness  that  your  letter  has  been  thus 
long  unanswered.  It  has  lain  within  my 
view  this  fortnight,  demanding  my  first 
leisure  hour ;  but  affairs  of  daily  occurrence 
i  have  been  so  many  and  so  pressing,  that  I 
I  have  been  constrained  to  put  it  off  till  now. 
I  trust  the  Lord,  by  his  Spirit  and  providence, 
will  direct  and  prosper  the  settlement  of  your 

children.     I  desire  my  love  to  Miss  M . 

My  idea  of  her  enlarges.  Methinks  I  see 
!  her  aspiring  to  be  as  tall  as  her  mamma.  I 
!  hope  likewise  that  she  increases  in  grace 
'  and  wisdom  as  in  years  and  stature ;  and  that 
I  hearing  our  Lord's  flock  is  a  little  flock,  she 
feels  an  earnest  thirst  to  be  one  of  the  happy- 
number  wiiich  constitutes  his  fold. 

There  the  Lord  dwells  amongst  them  upon  his  owh 

hill, 
With  the  flocks  all  around  hira,  awaiting  his  will- 

if  she  has  such  a  desire,  I  can  tell  who  gave 


324 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  P- 


it,  her,  for  I  am  persuaded  it  was  not  bom 
Avith  her:  and  where  the  g-ood  husbandman 
sows,  there  will  he  also  reap.     Therefore, 

dear  Miss  M ,  press  forward:  knock  and 

it  shall  be  opened  imto  you,  for  yet  there  is 
room.  O  what  a  fold  I  O  what  a  pasture ! 
O  what  a  shepherd !  Let  us  love,  and  sing, 
and  wonder. 

I  hope  the  cfood  people  at  Bristol,  and  every 
where  else,  are  prayinsf  for  our  sinful,  dis- 
tracted land,  in  this  dark  day.  The  Lord 
is  ani^ry,  the  sword  is  drawn,  and  I  am  afraid 
nothing  but  the  spirit  of  wrestling  prayer 
can  prevail  for  the  returning  it  into  the  scab- 
bard. Could  things  have  proceeded  to  these 
extremities,  except  the  Lord  had  withdrawn 
his  salutary  blessing  from  both  sides  ?  It  is  a 
time  of  prayer.  We  see  the  beginning  of 
trouble,  but  who  can  foresee  the  possible  con- 
sequences ?  The  fire  is  kindled,  but  how  far 
it  may  spread,  those  who  are  above  may  per- 
haps know  better  than  we.  I  meddle  not 
■with  the  disputes  ofparty,  nor  concern  myself 
about  any  political  maxims,  but  such  as  are 
laid  down  in  scripture.  There  I  read,  that 
righteousness  exalteth  a  nation,  and  that  sin 
is  the  reproach,  and  if  persisted  in,  the  ruin 
of  any  people.  Some  people  are  startled  at 
the  enormous  sum  of  our  national  debt:  they 
who  understand  spiritual  arithmetic,  may  well 
be  startled  if  they  sit  down  and  compute  the 
debt  of  national  sin.  Imprimis,  Infidelity; 
Itejn,  Contempt  of  the  gospel;  Item,  The  pro- 
fligacy of  manners;  Ite7n,  Perjury;  Item, 
The  jry  of  blood,  the  blood  of  thousands,  per- 
haps millions,  from  the  East  Indies.  It  would 
take  sheets,  yea  quires,  to  draw  out  the  parti- 
culars under  each  of  these  heads,  and  then 
much  would  remain  untold.  What  can  M'e 
answer,  when  the  Lord  saith,  "  Shall  not  I 
visit  for  these  things  ?  shall  not  my  soul  be 
avenged  on  such  a  nation  as  this]"  Since  we 
received  tlie  news  of  the  first  hostilities  in 
America,  we  have  had  an  additional  prayer- 
meeting.  Could  I  hear  that  professors  in 
general,  instead  of  wasting  their  breath  in 
censuring  men  and  measures,  were  plying  the 
throne  of  grace,  I  should  still  hope  for  a  re- 
spite. Poor  New  England !  once  the  glory 
of  the  earth,  now  likely  to  be  visited  with  fire 
and  sword  I  They  have  left  their  first  love, 
and  the  Lord  is  sorely  contending  with  them. 
Yet  surely  their  sins  as  a  people  are  not  to 
be  compared  with  ours,  I  am  just  so  much 
affected  with  these  things,  as  to  know  that  I 
am  not  affected  enousrh.  Oh  1  my  spirit  is 
sadly  cold  and  insensible,  or  I  should  lay  them 
to  heart  in  a  different  manner;  yet  I  endeavour 
to  give  the  alarm  as  far. as  I  can.  There  is 
one  political  maxim  which  comforts  me,  "The 
Lord  reigns."  His  hand  guides  the  storm  ; 
and  he  knows  them  that  are  his,  how  to  pro- 
tect, support,  and  deliver  them.  He  will 
take  care  of  his  own  cause,  yea,  he  will 
extend  his  kingdom,  even  by  these  formidable 


-.  [let.  hi. 

methods.  Men  have  one  thing  in  view,  he 
has  another,  and  his  counsel  shall  stand. 

The  chief  piece  of  news  since  my  last  is 
concerning  B.  A.  She  has  finished  her  course, 
and  is  now  with  the  great  multitude  wlio  have 
overcome  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  by 
the  word  of  his  testimony.  Tuesday,  the  1st 
of  February,  she  was  in  our  assembly,  was 
taken  ill  the  next  day,  and  died  while  we 
were  assembled  the  Tuesday  following.  She 
had  an  easy  dissolution,  retained  her  senses 
and  her  speech  to  the  last  minute,  and  went 
without  a  struggle  or  a  sigh.  She  was  not 
in  raptures  during  her  illness,  but  was  com- 
posed, and  maintained  a  strong  and  lively 
faith.  She  had  a  numerous  levee  about  her 
bed  daily,  who  were  all  witnesses  to  the  power 
of  faith,  and  to  the  faithfulness  of  the  Lord, 
enabling  her  to  triumph  over  the  approaches 
of  death;  for  she  was  well  known  and  well 
respected.  She  will  be  much  missed ;  but  I 
hope  he  will  answer  the  many  prayers  she  put 
up  for  us,  and  raise  up  others  in  her  room. 
"Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord." 
Blessed  are  they  who  know  whom  they  have 
believed,  and  when  death  comes,  can  cheer- 
fully rest  their  hopes  on  him  who  died  that 
we  might  live.  B had  been  long  a  pre- 
cious and  honourable  woman ;  but  her  hope 
in  the  trying  hour  rested  not  in  what  she  had 
done  for  the  Lord,  but  upon  what  he  had 
done  for  her ;  not  upon  the  change  his  grace 
had  wrought  in  her,  but  upon  the  righteous- 
ness he  had  wrought  out  for  her  by  his  obe- 
dience unto  death.  This  supported  her,  for 
she  saw  nothing  in  herself  but  what  she  was 
ashamed  of  She  saw  reason  to  renounce 
her  own  goodness,  as  well  as  her  own  sins, 
as  to  the  point  of  acceptance  with  God,  and 
died,  as  St.  Paul  lived,  determined  to  know 
nothing  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 

The  time  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C re- 
move to  Scotland  drawing  near,  Mrs. is 

gone  to  spend  a  week  or  two  with  them,  and 
take  her  leave.  She  feels  something  at  part- 
ing with  a  sister,  who  is  indeed  a  valuable 
person  ;  and  from  children  they  have  always 
lived  in  the  most  tender  intimacy  and  unin- 
terrupted friendship.  But  all  beneath  the 
moon  (like  the  moon  itself)  is  subject  to  in- 
cessant change.  Alterations  and  separations 
are  graciously  appointed  of  the  Lord,  to  re- 
mind us  that  this  is  not  our  rest,  and  to  pre- 
pare our  thoughts  for  that  approaching  change 
which  shall  fix  us  for  ever  in  an  unchange- 
able state.  O  Madam  !  what  shall  we  poor 
worms  render  to  him  who  has  brought  life 
and  immortality  to  life  by  the  gospel,  taken 
away  the  sting  of  death,  revealed  a  glorious 
prospect  beyond  the  grave,  and  given  us  eyes 
to  see  it?  Now  the  reflection,  that  we  must 
ere  long  take  a  final  farewell  of  what  is  most 
capable" of  pleasing  us  upon  earth,  is  not  only 
tolerable,  but  pleasant.  For  we  know  we 
cannot  fully  possess  our  best  friend,  our  chief 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  V 


LPr.  IV.] 

treasure,  till  wo  have  done  with  all  below; 
nay,  wc  cannot  till  then  proiK'rly  see  each 
other.  We  are  cased  up  in  vehicles  of  clay, 
and  converge  tojjother  as  if  we  were  in  difler- 
ent  coaches,  with  the  blinds  close  drawn 
rouutl.  We  see  the  carriajje,  and  the  voice 
tells  us  that  we  have  a  friend  within ;  but 
we  shall  know  each  other  better,  when  death 
shall  open  the  coach  dix)rs,  and  hand  out  the 
coni})nny  successively,  and  lead  them  intotiie 
glorious  apartments  which  the  Lord  has  ap- 
pointed to  be  the  common  residence  of  tiiem 
that  love  him.  What  an  assembly  will  there 
be  !  What  a  constellation  of  glory,  when 
each  individual  shall  shine  like  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father !  No  sins,  sorrows, 
temptations;  no  vails,  clouds,  or  prejudices, 
shall  interrupt  us  then.  All  names  of  idle 
distinction  (the  fruits  of  present  remaining 
darkness,  the  channels  of  bigotry,  and  the 
stumbling-block  of  the  world)  will  be  at  an 
end. 

The  description  you  give  of  your  present 
residence  pleases  me  much,  and  chiefly  be- 
cause it  describes  and  manifests  to  me  some- 
thing still  more  interesting,  I  mean  the 
peaceable  situation  of  your  mind.  Had  he 
placed  you  in  an  Eden  some  months  ago,  it 
would  hardly  have  awakened  your  descriptive 
talent.  But  he  whom  the  wind  and  seas  obey 
has  calmed  your  mind,  and  I  trust  will  go 
on  to  fill  you  w  ith  all  joy  and  peace  in  believ- 
ing. It  is  no  great  matter  where  we  are, 
provided  we  see  that  the  Lord  has  placed  us 
there,  and  that  he  is  with  us. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  IV. 


1776. 


So,  my  dear  madam,  I  hope  we  have  found 
you  out,  and  that  this  letter  will  reach  you  in 
good  time  to  welcome  you  in  our  names  to 
London.  We  are  ready  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  you  will  now  most  certainly  make  us  a 
visit.  Do  come  as  soon,  and  stay  as  long,  as 
you  possibly  can.  Methinks  you  will  be  glad 
to  get  out  of  the  smell  and  noise  as  soon  as 
possible.  If  we  did  not  go  to  London  now 
and  then,  we  should  perhaps  forget  how  peo- 
ple live  there.  Especially  I  pity  professors; 
they  are  exposed  to  as  many  dangers  as  peo- 
ple who  live  in  mines;  chilling  damps,  scorch- 
ing blasts,  epidemical  disorders,  owing  to  the 
impure  air.  Such  are  the  winds  of  false  doc- 
trines, the  explosions  of  controversy,  the 
blights  of  worldly  conversation,  the  contagion 
of  evil  custom.  In  short,  a  person  had  need 
have  a  good  constitution  of  grace,  and  like- 
wise to  be  well  supplied  with  antidotes,  to 
preserve  a  tolerable  share  of  spiritual  health 
in  such  a  situation. 

And  now,  how  shall  I  fill  up  the  rest  of  the 
paper?    It  is  a  shame  for  a  christian  and  a 


minister  to  say  he  has  no  puhject  at  hand, 
when  the  inexhaustible  thcriH?  of  redeeunn^f 
love  is  ever  pressing  u|K)n  our  attention.  1 
will  tell  you,  then.  lliou<,'h  you  know  it,  that 
the  Ivord  reigns,  lie  who  once  l)ore  our  hini<, 
and  carried  our  sorrows,  is  seated  uj)on  a 
throne  of  glory,  and  exercises  all  powi.T  in 
heaven  and  on  earth.  Thrones,  principalities, 
and  jx)wers,  Ixjw  betijre  him.  Every  event  in 
the  kinfjdomsof  providence  and  of  grace  are 
under  his  rule.  His  providence  pervades  an'I 
manages  the  whole,  and  is  as  minutely  atten- 
tive to  every  part,  as  if  there  were  onlv  that 
single  object  in  his  view.  From  the  hijrhest 
archangel  to  the  meanest  ant  or  fly,  ail  de- 
pend on  him  for  their  being,  their  preserva- 
tion, and  their  powers.  He  directs  the  spar- 
rows where  to  build  their  nests,  and  to  find 
their  food.  He  over-rules  the  rise  and  fall  of 
nations,  and  bends,  with  an  invincible  energy 
and  unerring  wisdom,  all  events;  so  that, 
while  many  intend  nothing  less,  in  the  issue 
their  designs  all  concur  and  coincide  in  the 
accomplishment  of  his  holy  will.  He  restrains 
with  a  mighty  hand  the  still  more  formidable 
efl^orts  of  the  powers  of  darkness ;  and  Satan, 
with  all  his  hosts,  cannot  exert  their  malice 
a  hair's  breadth  beyond  the  limits  of  his  per- 
mission. This  is  he  who  is  the  head  and  hus- 
band of  his  believing  people.  How  happy  are 
they  whom  it  is  his  good  pleasure  to  bless! 
How  safe  are  they  whom  he  has  engaged  to 
protect!  How  honoured  and  privileged  are 
they  to  whom  he  is  pleased  to  manifest  him- 
self, and  whom  he  enables  and  warrants  to 
claim  him  as  their  friend  and  their  portion ! 
Having  redeemed  them  by  his  own  blood,  he 
sets  a  high  value  upon  them:  he  esteems 
them  his  treasure,  his  jew-els,  and  keeps  them 
as  the  pupil  of  his  eye.  They  shall  not  want ; 
they  need  not  fear;  his  eye  is  upon  them  in 
every  situation,  his  ear  is  open  to  their 
prayers,  and  his  everlasting  arms  are  under 
them  for  their  sure  support.  On  earth  lie 
guides  their  steps,  controls  their  enemies, 
and  directs  all  his  dispensations  for  their 
good;  while  in  heaven,  he  is  pleading  their 
cause,  preparing  them  a  place,  and  communi- 
cating down  to  them  the  reviving  foretastes 
of  the  glory  that  shall  be  shortly  revealed. 
O  how  is  this  mystery  hidden  from  an  un- 
believing world !  Who  can  believe  it,  till  it 
is  made  known  by  experience,  what  an  in- 
tercourse is  maintained  in  this  land  of  shadows 
between  the  Lord  of  glory  and  sinful  worms ! 
How  should  we  praise  him,  that  he  has  visited 
us;  for  we  were  once  blind  to  his  beauty, 
and  insensible  to  his  love,  and  should  have 
remained  so  to  the  last,  had  he  not  prevented 
us  with  his  goodness,  and  been  found  of  us 
when  we  sought  him  not. 

Mrs. presents  her  love.     The  bite  of 

the  leech  which  I  mentioned  to  you  has  con- 
fined her  to  the  house  ever  since ;  but  I  hope 
she  w^ill  be  able  to  go  out  to-morrow.     W^e 


326 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  P- 


were  for  a  while  apprehensive  of  worse  con- 
sequences; but  the  Lord  is  gracious:  he  shows 
us,  in  a  variety  of  instances,  what  dependent 
creatures  we  are,  how  blind  to  events,  and 
how  easily  the  methods  which  we  take  to 
relieve  ourselves  from  a  small  inconvenience 
may  plunore  us  into  a  greater.  Thus  we  learn 
(happy,  indeed,  if  we  can  effectually  learn  it,) 
that  there  is  no  safety  but  in  his  protection, 
and  that  nothing-  can  do  us  good  but  by  his 
blessing.  As  for  myself,  I  see  so  many  rea- 
sons why  he  might  contend  with  me,  that  I 


-  [let.  it. 

am  amazed  he  affords  me  and  mine  so  much 
peace,  and  appoints  us  so  few  trials.  We 
live  as  upon  a  field  of  battle ;  many  are  hourly 
suffering  and  falling  around  us,  and  I  can 
give  no  reason  why  we  are  preserved,  but 
that  he  is  God,  and  not  man.  What  a  mercy 
that  we  are  only  truly  known  to  him,  who  is 
alone  able  to  bear  us ! 

May  the  Lord  bless  you  and  yours;  may 
he  comfort  you,  guide  you,  and  guard  yoa 
Come  quickly  to, — Yours,  &c. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  B- 


LETTER  I. 

September  14,  1765. 

REV.  AND  DEAR  SIR, — When  I  was  at 
London,  in  June  last,  your  name  first  reached 
me,  and  from  that  time  I  have  been  desirous 
to  wish  you  success  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
A  few  weeks  ago,  I  received  a  farther  account 
from  Mrs. ,  with  a  volume  of  your  ser- 
mons: she  likewise  gave  me  a  direction 
where  to  write,  and  an  encouragement  that 
a  letter  would  not  be  unacceptable.  The 
latter,  indeed,  I  did  not  much  need,  when  I 
had  read  your  book.  Though  we  have  no 
acquaintance,  we  are  already  united  in  the 
strictest  ties  of  friendship,  partakers  of  the 
same  hope,  servants  of  the  same  Lord,  and  in 
the  same  part  of  his  vineyard :  I  therefore 
hold  all  apologies  needless.  I  rejoice  in  the 
Lord's  goodness  to  you ;  I  pray  for  his  abun- 
dant blessing  upon  your  labours;  I  need  an 
interest  in  your  prayers;  I  have  an  affec- 
tionate desire  to  know  more  concerning  you : 
these  are  my  motives  for  writing. 

Mrs. tells  me  that  you  have  read  my 

Narrative:  I  need  not  tell  you,  therefore, 
that  I  am  one  of  the  most  astonishing  in- 
stances of  the  forbearance  and  mercy  of  God 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  In  the  close  of 
it,  I  mention  a  warm  desire  I  had  to  the  mi- 
nistry: this  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  keep 
alive  for  several  years,  through  a  succession 
of  views  and  disappointments.  At  length  his 
hour  came,  and  my  way  was  made  easy.  I 
have  been  here  about  fifteen  months.  The 
Lord  has  led  me,  by  a  way  that  I  little  ex- 
pected, to  a  pleasant  lot,  where  the  gospel 
has  been  many  years  knowm,  and  is  highly 
valued  by  many.  We  have  a  large  church 
and  congregation,  and  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  lively  thriving  believers,  and  in 
general  go  on  with  great  comfort  and  har- 
mony. I  meet  with  less  opposition  from 
the  world  than  is  usual  w'here  the  gospel  is 
preached.     This  burden  w'as  borne  by  Mr. 

B for  ten  years,  and  in  that  course  of 

time,  some  of  the  fiercest  opposers  were  re- 


moved, some  wearied,  and  some  softened;  so 
that  we  are  now  remarkably  quiet  in  that  re- 
spect. May  the  Lord  teach  us  to  improve  the 
privilege,  and  preserve  us  from  indifference. 
How  unspeakable  are  our  obligations  to  the 
grace  of  God !  What  a  privilege  is  it  to  be  a 
believer !  They  are  comparatively  few,  and 
we  by  nature  were  no  nearer  than  others;  it 
was  grace,  free  grace,  that  made  the  differ- 
ence. What  an  honour  to  be  a  minister  of 
the  everlasting  gospel!  These,  upon  com- 
parison, are  perhaps  fewer  still.  Plow  won- 
derful that  one  of  these  few  should  be  sought 
for  among  the  wilds  of  Africa,  reclaimed 
from  the  lowest  state  of  impiety  and  misery, 
and  brought  to  assure  other  sinners,  from  his 
own  experience,  that  "there  is  forgiveness 
with  him,  that  he  may  be  feared."  And  you, 
sir,  though  not  left  to  give  such  flagrant 
proofs  of  the  wickedness  of  the  heart  and  the 
power  of  Satan,  yet  owe  your  present  views 
to  the  same  almighty  grace.  If  the  Lord 
had  not  distinguished  you  from  your  brethren, 
you  would  have  been  now  in  the  character 
of  a  minister  misleading  the  people,  and 
opposing  those  precious  truths  you  are  now 
labouring  to  establish.  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord ! 
but  unto  thy  name  be  the  glory.  I  shall  be 
thankful  to  hear  from  you  at  your  leisure. 
Be  pleased  to  inform  me,  whether  you  re- 
ceived the  knowledge  of  the  truth  before  or 
since  you  were  in  orders ;  how  long  you  have 
preached  the  joyful  sound  of  salvation  by 
Jesus,  and  what  is  the  state  of  things  in  your 
parts. 

We  are  called  to  an  honouraWe  service, 
but  it  is  arduous.  What  wisdom  does  it  re- 
quire to  keep  the  middle  path  in  doctrines, 
avoiding  the  equally  dangerous  errors  on  the 
right  hand  and  the  left!  What  steadiness,  to 
speak  the  truth  boldly  and  faithfully  in  the 
midst  of  a  gainsaying  world  !  What  humility, 
to  stand  against  the  tide  of  popularity !  What 
meekness,  to  endure  all  things  for  the  elect's 
sake,  that  they  may  be  saved  !  "  Who  is  suf- 
ficient for  these  things  ]"  We  are  not  in  our- 
selves, but  there  is  an  all-sufficiency  ia  Jesiw. 
327 


323 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


[let.  ir. 


Our  enemy  watches  us  close ;  he  challenges 
and  desires  to  have  us,  that  he  may  sift  us  as 
wheat;  lie  knows  he  can  easily  sliake  us,  if 
we  are  left  to  ourselves ;  but  we  have  a  Shep- 
herd, a  Keeper,  who  never  slumbers  nor 
sleeps.  If  he  permits  us  to  be  exercised,  it 
is  for  our  good  ;  he  is  at  hand  to  direct,  mode- 
rate, and  sanctify  every  dispensation ;  he  has 
prayed  for  us,  that  our  faith  may  not  fail,  and 
he  has  promised  to  maintain  his  fear  in  our 
hearts,  that  we  may  not  depart  from  him. 
When  we  are  prone  to  wander,  he  calls  us 
back;  when  we  say.  My  feet  slip,  his  mercy 
holds  us  up;  when  we  are  wounded,  he  heals; 
•when  we  are  ready  to  faint,  he  revives.  The 
people  of  God  are  sure  to  meet  with  enemies, 
but  especially  the  ministers:  Satan  bears 
them  a  double  grudge :  the  world  watches 
for  their  halting,  and  the  Lord  will  suffer 
them  to  be  afflicted,  that  they  may  be  kept 
humble,  that  they  may  acquire  a  sympathy 
with  tlie  sufferings  of  others,  that  they  may 
be  experimentally  qualitied  to  advise  and 
help  them,  and  to  comfort  them  with  the 
comforts  with  which  they  themselves  have 
been  comforted  of  God.  But  the  Captain  of 
our  salvation  is  with  us ;  his  eye  is  upon  us, 
his  everlasting  arms  beneath  us;  in  his  name, 
therefore,  we  may  go  on,  lift  up  our  banners, 
and  say,  "  If  God  be  for  us,  who  can  be 
against  U5  ]  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are 
more  than  conquerors,  through  him  that  loved 
us."  The  time  is  short :  yet  a  little  while, 
and  he  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes, 
and  put  a  crown  of  life  upon  our  head  with 
his  own  gracious  hand.  In  this  sense,  how 
beautiful  are  those  lines : 


-Temporis  illius 


Me  consolor  imagine; 
Festis  quum  populus  me  reducem  choris, 
Fauslisque  excipiet  vocibus,  et  Dei 
Fompa  cum  celebri,  me  comiiabitur 

Augusta  ad  penetralia. 

Buck,  in  Psal.  xlh. 

If  any  occasions  should  call  you  into  these 
parts,  my  house  and  pulpit  will  be  glad  to 
receive  you.  Pray  for  us,  dear  sir,  and  be- 
lieve me  to  be, — Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

November  2,  1765. 
VERY  DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  of  the  4th 
ult.  gave  me  great  pleasure.  I  thank  you 
for  the  particular  account  you  have  flivoured 
me  with.  I  rejoice  with  you,  sympathize 
with  you,  and  find  my  heart  opened  to  cor- 
respond with  unreserved  freedom.  ^lay  the 
Lord  direct  our  pens,  and  help  us  to  help  each 
other.  The  work  you  are  engaged  in  is 
great,  and  your  difficulties  many  ;  but  faith- 
ful is  he  tliat  hath  called  you,  who  also  will 
&o  it.     The  weapons  which  he  has  now  put 


in  your  hands  are  not  carnal,  but  mighty 
through  God  to  the  pulling  down  of  strong 
holds.  Men  may  fight,  but  they  shall  not 
prevail  against  us,  if  we  are  but  enabled  to 
put  our  cause  simply  into  the  Lord's  hands, 
and  keep  steadily  on  in  the  path  of  duty. 
He  will  plead  our  cause,  and  fight  oui  battles; 
he  will  pardon  our  mistakes,  and  leach  us  to 
do  better.  My  experience  £is  a  minister  is 
but  small,  having  been  but  about  eighteen 
months  in  the  vineyard ;  but  for  about  twelve 
years  I  have  been  favoured  with  an  increas- 
ing acquaintance  among  the  people  of  God, 
of  various  ranks  and  denominations,  which, 
together  with  the  painful  exercises  of  my 
own  heart,  gave  me  opportunity  of  making 
observations  which  were  of  great  use  to  me 
when  I  entered  upon  the  work  myself;  and 
ever  since,  I  have  found  the  Lord  graciously 
supplying  new  lights  and  new  strength,  as 
now  occurrences  arise.  So,  I  trust  it  will 
be  with  you.  I  endeavour  to  avail  myself  of 
the  examples,  advice,  and  sentiments  of  my 
brethren,  yet  at  the  same  time  to  guard 
against  calling  any  man  master.  This  is  the 
peculiar  of  Christ.  The  best  are  but  men : 
the  wisest  may  be  mistaken ;  and  that  which 
may  be  right  in  another,  may  be  wrong  ia 
me,  through  a  difference  of  circumstances. 
The  Spirifof  God  distributes  variously,  both 
in  gifts  and  dispensations ;  and  I  would  no 
more  be  tied  to  act  strictly  by  others' /ules, 
than  to  walk  in  shoes  of  the  same  size.  My 
shoes  must  fit  my  own  feet 

I  endeavour  to  guard  against  extremes ;  our 
nature  is  prone  to  them;  and  we  are  liable 
likewise,  when  we  have  found  the  inconve- 
nience of  one  extreme,  to  revert  insensibly 
(sometimes  to  fly  suddenly)  to  the  other.  I 
pray  to  be  led  in  the  midst  of  the  path.  I 
am  what  they  call  a  Calvinist ;  yet  there  are 
flights,  niceties,  and  hard  sayings,  to  be  found 
among  some  of  that  system,  which  I  do  not 
choose  to  imitate.  I  dislike  those  sentiments 
against  which  you  have  borne  your  testimony 
in  the  note  at  the  end  of  your  preface ;  but 
having  known  many  precious  souls  in  that 
party,  I  have  been  taught,  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  is  not  in  names  and  sentiments,  but 
in  righteousness,  faith,  love,  peace,  and  joy  in 
the  Holy  Ghost.  I  should,  however,  upon 
some  occasions,  oppose  those  tenets,  if  they 
had  any  prevalence  in  my  neighbourhood; 
but  they  have  not;  and  in  general,  I  believe, 
the  surest  way  to  refute  or  prevent  error,  is 
to  preach  the  truth.  I  am  glad  to  find  you 
are  aware  of  that  spirit  of  entliusiasm  which 
has  so  often  broken  loose  and  blemished  hope- 
ful beginnings,  and  that  the  foundation  you 
build  upon  is  solid  and  scriptural :  this  will, 
I  hope,  save  you  much  trouble,  and  prevent 
many  offences.  Let  us  endeavour  to  make 
our  people  acquainted  with  the  scriptures,  and 
to  impress  them  with  a  high  sense  of  its  au- 
thority, excellence,  and  sufficiency.     Satan 


LET.   III.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


329 


seldom  rcinarkahly  imjwscs  on  ministers  or 
peopb,  except  where  tin;  word  of  (J(kI  m  too 
little -consulted  or  reonirded.  Another  |K)int 
in  whch  I  aim  at  a  medium,  is  in  what  is 
called  prudence.  There  is  certainly  t^nrM  a 
thinj^  ai  christian  prudence,  and  a  remarkahle 
deticiency  of  it  is  hi^jhly  inconvenient.  Hut 
caution  loo  ol\en  dej^enerates  into  cowardice  ; 
and  if  tl.c  fear  of  man,  under  the  name  of 
prudence,  jj^cts  within  our  «,'uard,  like  a  chill- 
ing frost,  it  nips  every  tliinyf  in  the  bud. 
Those  wio  trust  the  lx)rd,  and  act  openly 
with  an  honest  freedom  and  consistence,  I  ob- 
serve, he  ijt^neraliy  bears  them  out,  smoothes 
their  way,  and  makes  their  enemies  their 
friends,  oral  least  restrains  their  rag-c  ;  while 
such  as  \m\\n  ihinn^s,  temporise,  and  aim  to 
please  God  ind  man  toijether,  meet  with 
double  disappointment,  and  are  neither  useful 
nor  respected.  If  we  trust  to  him,  he  will 
stand  by  us;  if  we  regard  men,  he  will  leave 
U.S  to  make  the  best  we  can  of  them. 

I  have  set  down  hastily  what  occurred  to 
my  pen,  not  to  dictate  to  you,  but  to  tell  you 
how  I  have  been  led,  and  because  some  ex- 
pressions in  your  letter  seemed  to  imply  that 
you  would  not  be  displeased  with  me  for  so 
doing.  As  to  books,  I  think  there  is  a  me- 
dium here  likewise,  I  have  read  too  much 
in  time  past :  yet  I  do  not  wholly  join  with 
some  of  our  brethren,  who  would  restrain  us 
entirely  to  the  word  of  God.  Undoubtedly 
this  is  the  fountain ;  here  we  should  dwell : 
but  a  moderate  and  judicious  perusal  of 
other  authors  may  have  its  use ;  and  I  am 
glad  to  be  beholden  to  such  helps,  either  to 
explain  what  I  do  not  understand,  or  to  con- 
firm me  in  what  I  do.  Of  these,  the  writ- 
ings of  the  last  age  afford  an  immense  va- 
riety. 

But  above  all,  may  we,  dear  sir,  live  and 
feed  upon  the  precious  promises,  John  xiv. 
10,  17.  26,  and  xvi.  13—15.  There  is  no 
teacher  like  Jesus,  who,  by  his  Holy  Spirit, 
reveals  himself  in  his  word  to  the  understand- 
ing and  affections  of  his  children.  When  we 
thus  behold  his  glory  in  the  gospel-glass,  we 
are  changed  into  the  same  image.  Then  our 
hearts  melt,  our  eyes  fiow,  our  stammering 
tongues  are  unloosed.  That  this  may  be  your 
increasing  experience  is  the  prayer  of,  dear 
fiir, — Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

January  21,  17G6. 
DEAR  SIR, — Your  letters  give  me  the  sin- 
cerest  pleasure.  Let  us  believe  that  we  are 
daily  thinking  of  and  praying  for  each  other, 
and  write  when  opportunity  offers  without 
apologies.  I  praise  the  Lord  he  has  led  you 
BO  soon  to  a  settled  judgment  in  the  leading 
truths  of  the  gosnel.  For  want  of  this,  many 
^     liT 


have  been  ncco8«itated  with  their  own  hands 
to  |)ull  down  what,  in  the  firMt  warm  emo- 
tions of  their  zeal,  thry  had  lal)our«'d  hard  to 
build.  It  is  a  mercy  likewise  to  \x:  enabled 
to  acknowledge  what  is  excellent  in  the 
writings  or  conduct  of  others,  without  adopt- 
ing their  singularities,  or  discarding  the 
wliole  on  accoimt  of  a  few  blemishes.  We 
should  be  glad  to  receive  instruction  from 
all,  and  avoid  being  led  by  the  ipxe  dixit  of 
any.  Anllius  jurarc  in  Vfrhum,  is  a  fit 
motto  for  those  who  have  one  master,  even 
(Christ.  We  may  grow  wi.se  apace  in  opinion.^ 
by  b(x)ks  and  men;  but  vital,  experimental 
knowledge,  can  only  be  received  from  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  great  instructor,  and  com- 
forter of  his  people.  And  there  are  two 
things  observable  in  his  teaching:  1.  That 
he  honours  the  means  of  his  own  appoint- 
ment, so  that  we  cannot  expect  to  make  any 
great  progress  without  diligence  on  our  parts. 
2.  That  he  does  not  teach  all  at  once,  but  by 
degrees.  Experience  is  his  school ;  and  by 
this  I  mean  the  observation  and  improve- 
ment of  what  passes  within  us  and  around 
us  in  the  course  of  every  day.  The  word 
of  God  affords  a  history  in  miniature  cf  tne 
heart  of  man,  the  devices  of  Satan,  the  state 
of  the  world,  and  the  method  of  grace.  And 
the  most  instructing  and  affecting  commen- 
tary on  it  to  an  enlightened  mind,  may  be 
gathered  from  what  we  see,  feel,  and  hear 
from  day  to  day.  Res,  cctas,  usus,  semper 
aliquid  apportent  novi;  and  no  knowledge  in 
spiritual  things  but  what  we  acquire  in  this 
way  is  properly  our  own,  or  will  abide  the 
time  of  trial.  This  is  not  always  sufficiently 
considered :  we  are  ready  to  expect  that 
others  should  receive  upon  our  word,  in  half 
an  hour's  time,  those  views  of  things  which 
have  cost  us  years  to  attain.  But  none  can 
be  brought  forward  faster  than  the  Lord  is 
pleased  to  communicate  inward  light.  Upon 
this  ground  controversies  have  been  multi- 
plied among  christians  to  little  purpose,  for 
plants  of  different  standings  will  be  {ceteris 
paribus)  in  different  degrees  of  forwardness. 
A  young  christian  is  like  a  green  fruit ;  it 
has  perhaps  a  disagreeable  austerity,  which 
cannot  be  corrected  out  of  its  proper  course ; 
it  wants  time  and  growth  :  wait  a  while,  and 
by  the  nourishment  it  receives  from  the  root, 
together  with  the  action  of  the  sun,  wind, 
and  rain,  in  succession  from  without,  it  will 
insensibly  acquire  that  flavour  and  maturity, 
for  the  wantof  which  an  unskilful  judge  would 
be  ready  to  reject  it  as  nothing  worth.  We 
are  favoured  with  many  excellent  books  in  our 
tongue ;  but  I,  with  you,  agree  in  assigning 
one  of  the  first  places,  as  a  teacher,  to  Dr. 
Owen.  I  have  just  finished  his  discourse  on 
the  Holy  Spirit,  which  is  an  epitome,  if  not 
the  master-piece,  of  his  writings.  I  shculd 
be  glad  to  see  the  re-publication  you  speak 
of:  but  I  question  if  the  booksellers  will  ven- 


330 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


ftire  upon  it.  I  shall  perhaps  mention  it  to  my 
London  friends.  As  to  archbishop  Leighton, 
besides  his  select  works,  there  are  two  octavo 
volumes  published  at  Edinburg^h,  in  the  year 
1748,  and  since  reprinted  at  London.  They 
contain  a  valuable  commentary  on  St.  Peter's 
First  Epistle,  and  lectures  on  Isa.  vi ;  Psal. 
x.xxix,  cxxx  ;  Rom.  iv,  and  a  part  of  chap.  xii. 
I  have  likewi.se  a  small  quarto  in  Latin,  of  his 
Divinity  Lectures,  when  professor  at  Edin- 
bur<^h  ;  the  short  title,  is,  Prcclectionis  Thco- 
logice.  Mine  was  printed  in  London,  1698. 
I  believe  this  book  is  scarce ;  I  set  the  high- 
est value  upon  it..  •He  has  wonderfully  united 
the  simplicity  of  the  gospel,  with  all  the 
captivating  beauties  of  style  and  language. 
Bishop  Burnet  says,  he  was  the  greatest  mas- 
ter of  the  Latin  tongue  he  ever  knew,  of 
"which,  together  with  his  compass  of  learning, 
he  has  given  proof  in  his  lectures ;  yet  in  his 
gayer  dress,  his  eminent  humility  and  spiri- 
tuality appear  to  no  less  advantage  than  when 
clad  in  plain  English.  I  think  it  may  be 
said  to  be  a  diamond  set  in  gold.  I  could 
wish  it  translated,  if  it  was  possible  (which  I 
almost  question)  to  preserve  the  beauty  and 
spirit  of  the  original. 

Edwards  on  Free-will  I  have  read  with 
pleasure,  as  a  good  answer  to  the  proud  rea- 
Boners  in  their  own  way ;  but  a  book  of  that 
sort  cannot  be  generally  read :  where  the 
subject-matter  is  unpleasing,  and  the  method 
of  treating  it  requires  more  attention  than 
the  Athenian  spirit  of  the  times  will  bear,  I 
wonder  not  if  it  is  uncalled  for,  and  am  afraid 
we  shall  not  see  him  upon  Original  Sin,  if  it 
depends  upon  the  sale  of  the  other.  His  an- 
swer to  Dr.  Taylor,  which  you  speak  of,  is  not 
a  MS.  but  has  been  already  printed  at  Boston. 

You  send  us  good  news  indeed,  that  two 
more  of  your  brethren  are  declaring  on  the 
gospel  side.  The  Lord  confirm  and  strengthen 
thein,  add  yet  to  your  numbers,  and  make 
you  helps  and  comforts  to  each  other.  Surely 
he  is  about  to  spread  his  work.  Happy  those 
whom  he  honours  to  be  fellow-workers  with 
him.  Let  us  account  the  disgrace  we  suffer 
for  his  name's  sake  to  be  our  great  honour. 
Many  will  be  against  us,  but  there  are  more 
for  us.  All  the  praying  souls  on  earth,  all 
the  glorified  saints  in  heaven,  all  the  angels 
of  God,  yea  the  God  of  angels  himself,  all 
are  on  our  side.  Satan  may  rage,  but  he  is 
a  chained  enemy.  Men  may  contradict  and 
fight,  but  they  cannot  prevail.  Two  things 
we  shall  especially  need,  courage  and  patience, 
that  we  neither  faint  before  them,  nor  upon 
any  provocation  act  in  their  spirit.  If  we 
can  pity  and  pray  for  them,  return  good  for 
evil,  make  them  sensible  that  w^e  bear  them 
a  hearty  good-will,  and  act  as  tlie  disciples  of 
him  who  wept  for  his  enemies  and  prayed  for 
his  murderers ;  in  this  way  we  shall  find  the 
Lord  will  plead  our  cause,  soften  opposers, 
and  by  degrees,  give  us  a  measure  of  outward 


[let.  IV. 


peace.  Warmth  and  imprudence  have  often 
added  to  the  necessary  burden  of  the  cross. 
I  rejoice  that  the  Lord  has  led  you  in  a  dif- 
ferent way,  and  I  hope  your  doctrine  and  ex- 
ample will  make  your  path  smoother  every 
day :  you  find  it  so  in  part  already.  As  the 
Lord  brings  you  out  a  people  witness  for 
you  to  the  truth  of  his  word,  you  vill  find 
advantage  in  bringing  them  often  together. 
The  interval  from  Sabbath  to  Sabiath  is  a 
good  while,  and  aflJbrds  time  for  tie  world 
and  Satan  to  creep  in.  Tntermedate  meet- 
ings for  prayer,  (fee.  when  properly  conducted, 
are  greatly  useful.  I  could  wish  for  larger 
sheets  and  longer  leisure,  but  1  am  constrain- 
ed to  say  adieu,  in  our  dear  Lord  ond  Saviour. 
— Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

December  12,  1767. 

DEAR  SIR, — This  is  not  intended  as  an 
answer  to  your  last  acceptable  letter,  but  an 
occasional  line,  in  consequence  of  the  account 

Mr.  T has  given  me  of  your  late  illness. 

I  trust  this  dispensation  will  be  useful  to  you, 
and  I  wish  the  knowledge  of  it  may  be  so  to 
me.  I  am  favoured  with  an  unusual  share 
of  health  and  an  equal  flow  of  spirits.  If 
the  blow  you  have  received  should  be  a 
warning  to  me,  I  shall  have  cause  to  be 
thankful.  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  better: 
I  hope  the  Lord  has  no  design  to  disable  you 
from  service,  but  rather  (as  he  did  Jacob)  to 
strengthen  you  by  wounding  you ;  to  main- 
tain and  increase  in  you  that  conviction 
which,  through  grace,  you  have  received,  of 
the  vanity  and  uncertainty  of  every  thing 
below ;  to  give  you  a  lively  sense  of  the- 
value  of  health  and  opportunities,  and  to  add 
to  the  treasury  of  your  experience  new  proofs 
of  his  power  and  goodness  in  supporting, 
comforting,  and  healing  you,  and  likewise  to 
quicken  the  prayers  of  your  people  for  you, 
and  to  stir  them  up  to  use  double  diligence 
in  the  present  improvement  of  the  means  of 
grace,  while  by  this  late  instance  they  see 
how  soon  and  suddenly  you  might  have  been 
removed  from  them. 

I  understand  you  did  not  feel  that  lively 
exercise  of  faith  and  joy  which  you  would 
have  hoped  to  have  found  at  such  a  season ; 
but  let  not  this  discourage  you  from  a  firm 
confidence  that,  when  the  hour  of  dismission 
shall  come,  the  Lord  will  be  faithful  to  his 
gracious  promise,  and  give  you  strength  suf- 
ficient to  encounter  and  vanquish  your  last 
enemy.  You  had  not  this  strength  lately, 
because  you  needed  it  not;  for,  though  yoH 
might  think  yourself  near  to  death,  the  Lord 
intended  to  restore  you,  and  he  permitted  you 
to  feel  weakness,  that  you  might  know  your 
strength  does  not  consist  in  grace  received, 
but  in  his  fulness,  and  his  promise  to  commu- 


LIT.  v.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  RKV.   MR.  B- 


331 


nicatc  from  hiinsolfns  your  extensions  roquiro. 
(),  it  is  a  fjrt'iit  tliin<j  to  bf  stroiij;  m  tin* 
ijnico  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  !  but  it  is  a  hard 
losson :  it  is  not  easy  to  understand  it  in 
theory,  but  when  the  I/ord  lias  taufjht  us  so 
thr,  it  is  still  more  ditlicult  to  reduce  our 
knowledfje  to  practice.  But  this  is  one  end 
he  has  in  view  in  perniittinfj^  us  to  pass 
throuorh  such  a  variety  of  inward  and  outward 
exercises,  that  we  may  cease  from  trusting^ 
in  ourselves,  or  in  any  creature,  or  frame,  or 
experiences,  and  be  brou<;ht  to  a  state  of 
submission  and  dependence  upon  him  alone. 
I  was  once  visited  somethiniT  in  the  same 
way,  seized  with  a  tit  of  the  aix)plectic  kind, 
which  held  me  near  an  hour,  and  letl  a  disor- 
der in  my  head,  which  quite  broke  the  scheme 
of  life  I  was  then  in,  and  was  consequently 
one  of  the  means  the  Lord  appointed  to  bring" 
me  into  the  ministry ;  but  I  soon  perfectly 
recovered.      From   the   remembrance    Mrs, 

has  of  what  she  then  suffered,  she  knows 

how  to  sympathize  with  Mrs.  B in  her 

share  of  your  trial.     And  I  think  dear  Mr. 

some  years  since  had  a  sudden  stroke 

on  a  Christmas  day,  which  disabled  him  from 
duty  for  a  time.  To  him  and  to  me  these 
turns  were  only  like  the  caution  which  Philip 
of  Macedon  ordered  to  be  repeated  to  him 
every  morninsr,  "  Remember  thou  art  a  man." 
I  hope  it  will  be  no  more  to  you,  but  that  you 
shall  live  to  praise  him,  and  to  give  many 
ca\ise  to  praise  him  on  your  behalf  Blessed 
be  God  we  are  in  safe  hands :  the  Lord  him- 
self is  our  keeper ;  nothing  befals  us  but 
what  is  adjusted  by  his  wisdom  and  love. 
Health  is  his  gift,  and  sickness,  when  sancti- 
fied, is  a  token  of  love  likewise.  Here  we 
may  meet  with  many  things  which  are  not 
joyous  but  grievous  to  the  flesh ;  but  he  will, 
in  one  way  or  other,  sweeten  every  bitter 
cup,  and  ere  long-  he  will  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  our  eyes.  O  that  joy,  that  crown,  that 
glory  which  awaits  the  believer !  Let  us  keep 
the  prize  of  our  high  calling  in  view,  and  press 
forward  in  the  name  of  Jesus  the  Redeemer, 
and  he  will  not  disappoint  our  hopes. 

I  am  but  just  come  off  from  a  journey,  am 
weary,  and  it  grows  late ;  I  must  therefore 
break  off'.  When  you  have  leisure  and  strength 
to  write,  oblige  me  with  a  confirmation  of  your 
recovery,  for  I  shall  be  something  anxious 
about  you. — I  am,  &:c. 


LETTER  V. 

March  14, 1775. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  thought  you  long  in 
writing,  but  am  afraid  I  have  been  longer. 
A  heavy  family  affliction  called  me  from 
home  in  December,  which  put  me  out  of  my 
usual  course,  and  threw  me  behind-hand  in 
my  correspondence ;  yet  I  did  not  suspect  the 
date  ©f  your  last  letter  was  so  old  by  two 


months  as  I  find  it.  Whether  I  write  njore 
fre(|iiently  or  more  seldorn,  the  love  of  my 
heart  to  you  is  the  same,  and  I  himll  iM-Iievc 
the  like  of  you  ;  yet,  if  it  can  be  helped,  I 
hope  the  interval  will  not  be  so  long  again 
on  either  side.  I  am  glad  that  the  I/ird's 
work  still  flourishes  in  your  partw,  and  that 
you  have  a  more  comfortable  prospect  at 
liome  than  formerly  ;  and  I  was  plea^sed  with 

the  acceptance  you  found  at  S— ,  which 

I  hope  will  be  an  earnest  of  greater  things. 
I  think  affairs  in  general,  with  respect  to  this 
land,  have  a  dark  appearance ;  but  it  is  com- 
fortable to  observe,  that,  amidst  the  abound- 
ings  of  ini(iuity,  the  Lord  is  spreading  his 
gospel,  and  that  though  many  oppose,  yet  in 
most  places  whither  the  word  is  sent,  great 
numbers  seem  disposed  to  hear.  I  am  going 
(if  the  Lord  please)  into  Leicestershire  on 
Friday.  This  was  lately  such  a  dark  place 
as  you  describe  your  country  to  be,  and  much 
of  it  is  so  still ;  but  the  Lord  has  visited  three 
of  the  principal  towns  with  gospel-light.  I 
have  a  desire  of  visiting  these  bretliren  in 
the  vineyard,  to  bear  my  poor  testimony  to 
the  truths  they  preach,  and  to  catch,  if  I  may> 
a  little  fire  and  fervour  among  them.  I  do- 
not  often  go  abroad  ;  but  I  have  found  a  little 
excursion  now.  and  then  (when  the  way  is 
made  plain)  has  its  advantages,  to  quicken 
the  spirits  and  enlarge  the  sphere  of  observa- 
tion.    On  these  accounts  the  recollection  of 

my  N journey  gives  me  pleasure  to  this 

day ;  and  very  glad  should  I  be  to  repeat  it, 
but  the  distance  is  so  great  that  I  consider  it 
rather  as  desirable  than  practicable. 

My  experiences  vary  as  well  as  yours :  but 
possibly  your  sensations,  both  of  the  sweet 
and  of  the  bitter,  may  be  stronger  than  mine. 
The  enemy  assaults  me  more  by  sap  than 
storm,  and  I  am  ready  to  think  I  suffer  more 
by  languor  than  some  of  my  friends  do  by 
the  sharper  confficts  to  which  they  are  called. 
So  likewise  in  these  seasons,  which  compara- 
tively I  call  my  best  hours,  my  sensible  com- 
forts are  far  from  lively.     But  I  am  in  gene- 
ral enabled  to  hold  fast  my  confidence,  and 
to  venture  myself  upon  the  power,  faithful- 
ness, and  compassion  of  that  adorable  Saviour, 
to  whom  my  soul  has  been  directed  and  en- 
couraged to  flee  for  refuge.     I  am  a  poor, 
changeable,  inconsistent  creature;    but  he 
deals  graciously  with  me ;  he  does  not  leave 
me  wholly  to  myself;  but  I  have  such  daily 
proofs  of  the  m.alignity  and  efficacy  of  the  sin 
that  dwelleth  in  me,  as  ought  to  cover  me 
with  shame  and  confusion  of  face,  and  make 
me  thankful  if  1  am  permitted  to  rank  with 
the  meanest  of  those   who  sit  at  his  feet 
That  I  was  ever  called  to  the  knowledge  of 
his  salvation,  was  a  singular  instance  of  his 
sovereign  grace ;  and  that  I  am  still  preserved 
in  the  way,  in  defiance  of  all  that  has  arisen 
from  w^ithin  and  from  without  to  turn  me 
aside,  must  be  wiiolly  ascribed  to  the  same 


332 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


sovercigTity :  ana  it,  as  I  trust,  he  shall  be 
pleased  to  make  ine  a  conqueror  at  last,  I 
shall  liave  peculiar  reason  to  say.  Not  unto 
me,  not  unto  nie,  but  unto  thy  name,  O  Lord, 
be  the  glory  and  tlie  j)raise ! 

How  oH  liavo  sill  and  Satan  strovo 
To  rend  my  soul  I'roin  thee,  my  (Jodl 
But  everlastinji  is  thy  love, 
And  Jesus  seals  it  with  his  blood. 

The  Ix)rd  leads  me  in  the  course  of  my 
preachiuf^  to  insist  much  on  a  life  ot"  commu- 
nion with  liimself,  and  of  the  great  design  of 
the  gospel  to  render  us  conformable  to  him  in 
love ;  and  as  by  liis  mercy  nothing  appears  in 
my  outward  conduct  remarkably  to  contra- 
dict what  I  say,  many  who  only  can  judge  by 
what  they  see,  suppose  I  live  a  very  happy 
life.  But,  alas  !  if  they  knew  what  passes  in 
my  heart,  how  dull  my  spirit  is  in  secret,  and 
how  little  I  am  myself  affected  by  the  glo- 
rious truths  I  propose  to  others,  they  would 
form  a  different  judgment.  Could  I  be  my- 
self what  I  recommend  to  them,  I  should  be 
happy  indeed.  Pray  for  me,  my  dear  friend, 
that  now  the  Lord  is  bringing  forward  the 
pleasing  spring,  he  may  favour  me  with  a 
spring-season  in  my  soul ;  for  indeed  I  mourn 
under  a  long  winter. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VL 

April  16,  1772. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  hoDC  the  Lord  has 
contracted  my  desires  and  aims  almost  to  the 
one  point  of  study,  the  knowledge  of  his  truth. 
All  other  acquisitions  are  transient  and  com- 
paratively vain.  And  yet,  alas !  I  am  a  slow 
scholar;  nor  can  I  see  in  what  respect  I  get 
forward,  unless  that  every  day  I  am  more 
confirmed  in  the  conviction  of  my  own 
emptiness  and  inability  to  all  spiritual  good. 
And  as,  notwithstanding  this,  I  am  still 
enabled  to  stand  my  ground,  I  would  hope 
since  no  effect  can  be  without  an  adequate 
cause,  that  I  have  made  some  advance,  though 
in  a  manner  imperceptible  to  myself,  towards 
a  more  simple  dependence  upon  Jesus  as  my 
all  in  all.  It  is  given  me  to  thirst  and  to 
taste,  if  it  is  not  given  me  to  drink  abun- 
dantly; and  I  would  be  thankful  for  the 
desire.  I  see  and  approve  the  wisdom,  grace, 
suitableness,  and  sufficiency  of  the  gospel- 
salvation;  and  since  it  is  for  sinners,  and  I 
am  a  sinner,  and  the  promises  are  open,  I 
do  not  hesitate  to  call  it  mine.  I  am  a 
weary,  laden  soul ;  Jesus  has  invited  me  to 
come,  and  has  enabled  me  to  put  my  trust  in 
him.  I  seldom  have  an  uneasy  doubt,  at 
least  not  of  any  continuance,  respecting  my 
pardon,  acceptance,  and  interest  in  all  the 
blessings  of  the  New  Testament.  And, 
amidst  a  thousand  infirmities  and  evils  under 
wnich  I  groan,  I  have  tiie  testimony  of  my 
conscience  when  under  the  trial  of  his  word. 


-  [let.  VI. 

tiiat  my  desire  is  sincerely  towards  him,  that 
I  ciioose  no  other  portion,  that  I  allowedly 
serve  no  other  master.  Wlien  I  told  oui 
friend lately  to  this  purpose,  he  won- 
dered and  asked,  "  How  is  it  )K)ssible  that  if 
you  can  say  these  things,  you  should  not  be 
always  rejoicing  1"  Undoubtedly  I  derive 
from  the  gospel  a  peace  at  bottom  which  is 
worth  more  than  a  thousand  worlds ;  but  bo 
it  is,  I  can  only  speak  for  myself,  though  I 
rest  and  live  upon  the  truths  of  the  gospel, 
they  seldom  impress  me  with  a  warm  and 
lively  joy.  In  public,  indeed,  I  sometimes 
seem  in  earnest  and  much  affected,  but  even 
then  it  appears  to  me  rather  as  a  part  of  the 
g\{\  intrusted  to  me  for  the  edification  of 
others,  than  as  a  sensation  which  is  properly 
my  own.  For  when  I  am  in  private,  I  am 
usually  dull  and  stupid  to  a  strange  degree, 
or  the  prey  to  a  wild  and  ungoverned  ima- 
gination ;  so  that  I  may  truly  say,  when  I 
would  do  good,  evil,  horrid  evil,  is  present 
with  me.  Ah,  how  different  is  this  from  sen- 
sible comfort !  and  if  I  was  to  compare  my- 
self with  others,  to  make  their  experience 
my  standard,  and  was  not  helped  to  retreat 
to  the  sure  word  of  God  as  my  refuge,  how 
hard  should  I  find  it  to  maintain  a  hope  that 
I  had  either  part  or  lot  in  the  matter.  What 
I  call  my  good  times  are,  when  I  can  find 
my  attention  in  some  little  measure  fixed  to 
what  I  am  about,  which,  indeed,  is  not  always 
nor  frequently  my  case  in  prayer,  and  Uill 
seldomer  in  reading  the  scriptures.  My 
judgment  embraces  these  means  as  blessed 
privileges,  and  Satan  has  not  prevailed  to 
drive  me  from  them ;  but  in  the  performance, 
I  too  often  find  them  tasks,  feel  a  reluctance 
when  the  seasons  return,  and  am  glad  when 
they  are  finished.  O  what  a  mystery  is  the 
heart  of  man !  What  a  warfare  is  the  life  of 
faith,  at  least  in  the  path  the  Lord  is  pleased 
to  lead  me  !  What  reason  have  I  to  lie  in  the 
dust  as  the  chief  of  sinners  !  and  vyhat  cause 
for  thankfulness  that  salvation  is  wholly  of 
grace.  Notwithstanding  all  my  complaints, 
it  is  still  true  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again, 
that  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession,  and 
is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  think  of  that  joy  of  heart  in 
which  some  of  his  people  live,  and  to  com- 
pare it  with  that  apparent  deadness  and  want 
of  spirituality  which  I  feel,  this  makes  me 
mourn.  How-ever,  I  think  there  is  a  scrip- 
tural distinction  between  faith  and  feeling, 
grace  and  comfort ;  tliey  are  not  inseparable, 
and  perhaps  when  together,  the  degree  of 
the  one  is  not  of\en  the  just  measure  of  the 
other.  But  thoudi  I  pray  that  I  may  be  ever 
longing  and  panting  for  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  yet  I  would  be  so  far  satisfied,  as 
to  believe  the  Lord  has  wise  and  merciful  rea- 
sons for  keeping  me  so  short  of  the  comforts 
which  he  has  taught  me  to  desire  and  value 
more  than  the  liirht  of  the  sun. — I  am,  (Sec. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  R- 


LETTER  I. 

January  16,  1772. 

DE.VR  SIR, — It  is  true,  I  was  apprehensive 
from  your  silence  that  I  had  offended  you ; 
but  when  your  letter  came,  it  made  me  full 
amends ;  and  now  I  am  fjlad  I  wrote  as  I  did, 
though  I  am  persuaded  I  shall  never  write  to 
you  again  in  the  same  strain.  I  am  pleased 
with  the  spirit  you  discover;  and  your  bear- 
ing so  well  to  be  told  of  the  mistakes  I  pointed 
out  to  you,  endears  you  more  to  me  than  if 
you  had  not  made  them.  Henceforward  I 
c^n  converse  freely  with  you,  and  shall  be 
glad  when  I  have  the  opportunity. 

As  to  your  view  of  justification,  I  did  not 
oppose  it ;  I  judge  for  myself,  and  I  am  wil- 
ling others  should  have  the  same  liberty.  If 
we  hold  the  Head,  and  love  the  Ix)rd,  we  agree 
in  him,  and  I  should  think  my  time  ill  em- 
ployed in  disputing  the  point  with  you.  I 
only  meant  to  except  against  the  positive 
manner  in  which  you  had  expressed  yourself 
My  end  is  answered,  and  I  am  satisfied.  In- 
deed, I  believe  the  difference  between  a 
judicious  Supra-lapsarian,  and  a  sound  Sub- 
lapsarian,  lies  more  in  a  different  way  of  ex- 
pressing their  sentiments  than  is  generally 
thought.  At  the  close  of  Halyburton's  In- 
sufficiency of  Natural  Religion,  he  has  an 
Inquiry  into  the  Nature  of  Regeneration  and 
Justification,  wherein  he  promises  a  scheme, 
in  which,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  moderate  of 
both  parties  might  safely  unite.  I  have  used 
the  epithets  judicious  and  sound,  because, 
as  I  acknowledge,  some  of  the  one  side  are 
not  quite  sound,  so  I  think  some  on  the  other 
side  are  not  so  judicious  as  I  could  wish ; 
that  is,  I  think  they  do  not  sufficiently  advert 
to  the  present  state  of  human  nature,  and  the 
danger  which  may  arise  from  leading  those 
Avho  are  weak  in  faith  and  judgment,  into 
inquiries  and  distinctions,  evidently  beyond 
the  line  of  their  experience,  and  which  may 
be  hurtful :  because,  admitting  them  to  be 


true  when  properly  explained,  they  arc  very 
liable  to  be  misunderstood.  To  say  nothing 
of  Mr.  Hussey  (in  whose  provisions  I  have 
frequently  found  more  bones  than  meat,  and 
seasoned  with  much  of  an  angry  and  self- 
important  spirit,)  I  have  observed  passages 
in  other  writers,  for  whom  I  have  a  liigher 
esteem,  which,  to  say  the  least,  appear  to 
me  paradoxical,  and  hard  to  be  understood ; 
though,  perhaps,  I  can  give  my  consent  to 
them,  if  I  had  such  restrictions  and  limita- 
tions as  the  authors  would  not  refuse.  But 
plain  people  are  easily  puzzled.  And  though  I 
know  several  in  the  Supra-lapsarian  scheme, 
at  whose  feet  I  am  willing  to  sit  and  learn, 
and  have  found  their  preaching  and  conver- 
sation savoury  and  edifying;  yet  I  must  say, 
I  have  met  with  many,  who  have  appeared 
to  be  rather  wise  than  warm,  rather  positive 
than  humble,  rather  captious  than  lively,  and 
more  disposed  to  talk  of  speculations  than 
experience.  However,  let  us  give  ourselves 
to  the  study  of  the  word  and  to  prayer:  and 
may  the  great  Teacher  make  every  scrip- 
tural truth  food  to  our  souls.  I  desire  to 
grow  in  knowledge,  but  I  want  nothing 
which  bears  that  name,  that  has  not  a  direct 
tendency  to  make  sin  more  hateful,  Jesus 
more  precious  to  my  soul ;  and  at  the  same 
time  to  animate  me  to  a  diligent  use  of  every 
appointed  means,  and  an  unreserved  regard 
to  every  branch  of  duty.  I  think  the  Lord  has 
shown  me  in  a  measure,  there  is  a  consistent 
sense  running  through  the  whole  scriptures, 
and  I  desire  to  be  governed  and  influenced 
by  it  all :  doctrines,  precepts,  promises,  warn- 
ings, all  have  their  proper  place  and  use ;  and 
I  think  many  of  the  inconveniencies  which 
obtain  in  the  present  day,  spring  from  sepa- 
ratinnr  those  things  which  God  hath  joined 
together,  and  insisting  on  some  parts  of  the 
word  of  God,  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
rest. 

I  have  filled  my  paper  with  what  I  did  not 
intend  to  say  a  word  of  when  I  began,  and  I 
333 


334 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  R- 


must  leave  other  thino^s  which  were  more 
upon  my  mind  for  another  season.  I  thank 
you  for  sayin^r  you  pray  for  me.  Continue 
that  kindness ;  I  botli  need  it  and  prize  it. — I 
am,  &LC. 


LETTER  IL 

July  31,  1773. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  received  your  sorrowful  epis- 
tle yesterday,  and  in  order  to  encourage  you 
to  write,  I  answer  it  to-day. 

The  ship  was  safe  wlien  Christ  was  in  her, 
though  lie  was  really  asleep.  At  present  I 
can  tell  you  good  news,  though  you  know  it; 
he  is  wkle  awake,  and  his  eyes  are  in  every 
place.  You  and  I,  if  we  could  be  pounded 
together,  might  perhaps  make  two  tolerable 
ones.  You  are  too  anxious,  and  I  am  too 
easy  in  some  respects.  Indeed,  I  cannot  be 
too  easy,  when  I  have  a  right  thought  tliat 
all  is  safe  in  his  hands ;  but  if  your  anxiety 
makes  you  pray,  and  my  composure  makes 
me  careless,  you  have  certainly  the  best  of  it. 
However,  the  ark  is  fixed  upon  an  immove- 
able foundation;  and  if  we  think  we  see  it 
totter,  it  is  owing  to  a  swimming  in  our  heads. 
Seriously,  the  times  look  dark  and  stormy, 
and  call  for  much  circumspection  and  prayer; 
but  let  us  not  forget  that  we  have  an  infallible 
pilot,  and  that  the  power,  and  wisdom,  and 
honour  of  God,  are  embarked  with  us.  At 
Venice  they  have  a  fine  vessel,  called  the 
Bucentaur,  in  which,  on  a  certain  day  of  the 
year,  the  Doge  and  nobles  embark,  and  go  a 
little  way  to  sea,  to  repeat  the  foolish  cere- 
mony of  marriage  between  the  Republic  and 
the  Adriatic  (in  consequence  of  some  lying, 
antiquated  Pope's  bull,  by  which  the  banns 
of  matrimony  between  Venice  and  the  Gulf 
were  published  in  the  dark  ages,)  when,  they 
say,  a  gold  ring  is  very  gravely  thrown  over- 
board. Upon  this  occasion,  I  have  been  told, 
when  the  honour  and  government  of  Venice 
are  shipped  on  board  the  Bucentaur,  the  pilot 
is  obliged  by  his  office  to  take  an  oath,  that 
he  will  bring  the  vessel  safely  back  again,  in 
defiance  of  wind  and  weather.  Vain  mortals ! 
If  this  be  true,  what  an  instance  of  God's 
long-suffering  is  it,  that  they  have  never  yet 
sunk  as  lead  in  the  mighty  waters !  But  my 
story  will  probably  remind  you,  that  Jesus 
has  actually  entered  into  such  an  engagement 
in  behalf  of  his  church.  And  well  he  may,  for 
both  wind  and  weather  are  at  his  command; 
and  he  can  turn  the  storm  into  a  calm  in  a 
moment.  We  may  therefore  safely  and  con- 
fidently leave  tlie  government  upon  his  shoul- 
ders.    Duty  is  our  part,  the  care  is  his. 

A  revival  is  wanted  with  us  as  well  as  with 
you,  and  I  trust  some  of  us  are  longing  for 
it  We  are  praying  and  singing  for  one ;  and 
I  send  you,  on  the  other  side,  a  hymn,  that 


rr.  [let.  III. 

you  (if  you  like  it)  may  sing  with  us.  Let 
us  take  courage ;  though  it  may  seem  mar- 
vellous in  our  eyes,  it  is  not  so  in  the  Lord's. 
He  changes  the  desert  into  a  fruitful  field, 
and  bids  dry  bones  live.  And  if  he  prepare 
our  hearts  to  pray,  he  will  surely  incline  his 
ear  to  hear. 

The  miscarriages  of  professors  are  griev- 
ous; yet  such  things  must  be;  how  else  could 
the  scriptures  be  fulfilled  I  But  there  is  one 
who  is  able  to  keep  us  from  falling.  Some 
who  have  distressed  us,  perhaps  never  were 
truly  changed ;  how  then  could  they  stand  % 
We  see  only  the  outside.  Others  who  are 
sincere  are  permitted  to  fall  for  our  instruc- 
tion, tJiat  we  may  not  be  high-minded,  but 
fear.  However,  he  that  walketh  humbly, 
walketh  surely. — Believe  me,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

February  22,  1774. 

DEAR  SIR, — Your  letter  by  last  post  sur- 
prised and  grieved  me.     We  knew  nothing 

of  the  subject,  though  IMrs. remembers, 

when  was  here,  a  hint  or  two  were 

dropped  which  she  did  not  understand,  but 
no  name  was  mentioned. 

This  instance  shows  the  danger  of  leaning 
to  impressions.  Texts  of  scripture,  brought 
powerfully  to  the  heart,  are  very  desirable 
and  pleasant,  if  their  tendency  is  to  humble 
us,  to  give  us  a  more  feeling  sense  of  the 
preciousness  of  Christ,  or  of  the  doctrines  of 
grace,  if  they  make  sin  more  hateful,  enliven 
our  regard  to  the  means,  or  increase  our  con- 
fidence in  the  power  and  faithfulness  of  God. 
But  if  they  are  understood  as  intimating  our 
path  of  duty  in  particular  circumstances,  or 
confirming  us  in  purposes  we  may  have  al- 
ready formed,  not  otherwise  clearly  warrant- 
ed by  the  general  strain  of  the  word,  or  by  the 
leadings  of  Providence,  they  are  for  the  most 
part  ensnaring,  and  always  to  be  suspected. 
Nor  does  their  coming  into  the  mind  at  the 
time  of  prayer  give  them  more  authority  in 
this  respect.'  When  the  mind  is  intent  upon 
any  subject  the  imagination  is  often  watchful 
to  catch  at  any  thing  which  may  seem  to 
countenance  the  favourite  pursuit.  It  is  too 
common  to  ask  counsel  of  the  Lord  when  we 
have  already  secretly  determined  for  our- 
selves; and  in  this  disposition  we  may  easily 
be  deceived  by  the  sound  of  a  text  of  scrip- 
ture, which  detached  from  the  passage  in 
which  it  stands,  may  seem  remarkably  to 
tally  wuth  our  wishes.  Many  have  been  de- 
ceived this  way ;  and  sometimes,  when  the 
event  has  shown  them  they  were  mistaken, 
it  has  opened  a  door  for  great  distress,  and 
Satan  has  found  occasion  to  make  them  doubt 
even  of  their  most  solid  experiences. 

I   have  sometimes  talked   to  upon 

this  subject,  though  without  the  least  suspi- 


LETT.  IV.] 


LETTKRS  TO  TIIK  RKV.  MR.  R- 


335 


ciffti  of  niiy  tlimur  liko  \vii;it  Ims  ImppfiuMl. 
As  to  llu'  i)restMil  ruso,  it  riuiy  miiiud  iis  all 
ofour  woiikiit'ss.  I  would  rccomuuMid  i)ray('r, 
pjitioncp,  iimi-li  tt'iulfrncss  towards  Iht,  join- 
ed with  tiuthtiil  o\i)ostulalioii.  Wait  a  little 
wliilo,  and  I  trust  tlio  l^)rd  who  loves  her 
will  brt'ak  the  snare.  I  am  persuaded,  in  her 
better  judiriniMit,  she  wouM  dread  the  thoujirhts 
of  doinij  wron<jf ;  and  I  hope  and  believe  the 
good  Shejiherd,  to  whom  she  has  oAen  com- 
mitted her  .<oul  and  her  ways,  will  interpose 
to  restore  and  set  her  to  ri<;^hts.      -     .     -     - 

-  -  -  I  am  sorry  you  think  any  of  whom 
you  have  hoj)ed  well  are  p"oini^  back  ;  but  be 
not  discourag-cd.  I  say  again,  pray  and  wait, 
and  hope  the  best.  It  is  common  for  youngc 
professors  to  have  a  slack  time ;  it  is  almost 
necessary,  that  they  may  be  more  sensible  of 
the  weakness  and  deceitfulness  of  their  hearts, 
and  be  more  humbled  in  future,  when  the 
Lord  shall  liave  healed  their  breaches,  and 
restored  their  souls.  We  join  in  love  to  you 
And  yours.     Pray  for  us. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

Feb  r  liar  ij  3,  1775. 

DEAR  SIR, — It  would  be  wrong  to  make 
you  wait  long  for  an  answer  to  the  point  you 
propose  in  your  last.  It  is  an  important  one. 
I  am  not  a  casuist  by  profession,  but  I  will 
do  my  best.  Suppose  I  imitate  your  laconic 
manner  of  stating  the  question  and  circum- 
stances. 

I  doubt  not  but  it  is  very  lawful  at  your 
age  to  think  of  marriage,  and,  in  the  situa- 
tion you  describe,  to  think  of  money  likewise. 
I  am  glad  you  have  no  person,  as  you  say, 
fixedly  in  view ;  in  that  case  advice  comes  a 
post  or  two  too  late.  But  your  expression 
seems  to  intimate  that  there  is  one  transient- 
ly in  view.  If  it  be  so,  since  you  have  no 
settlement,  if  she  has  no  money,  I  cannot  but 
wish  she  may  pass  on  till  she  is  out  of  sight 
and  out  of  mind.  I  see  this  will  not  do ;  I 
must  get  into  my  own  grave  way  about  this 
grave  business.  I  take  it  for  granted  that  my 
friend  is  free  from  the  love  of  filthy  lucre, 
and  that  money  will  never  be  the  turning 
point  with  you  in  the  choice  of  a  wife.  Me- 
thinks  I  hear  you  think,  if  I  wanted  money, 
I  would  either  dig  or  beg  for  it ;  but  to  preach 
or  marry  for  money,  that  be  far  from  me.  I 
commend  you.  However,  though  the  love 
of  money  be  a  great  evil,  money  itself,  ob- 
tained in  a  fair  and  honourable  way,  is  de- 
sirable upon  many  accounts,  though  not  for 
its  own  sake.  Meat,  clothes,  fire,  and  books, 
cannot  easily  be  had  without  it;  therefore, 
if  these  be  necessary,  money,  which  pro- 
cures them,  must  be  a  necessary  likewise. 
If  thmgs  were  otherwise  than  you  represent 


them,  if  you  wore  able  to  provide  for  u  wifo 
yourself,  then  I  would  wiy,  Fnid  u  ^rnicioutf 
girl  (if  she  be  not  tinmd  already,)  whosi-  |mt- 
so!i  you  like,  whose  temiM-r  you  think  will 
suit,  and  then,  with  your  father  and  mother's 
consent  (without  which  I  think  you  would  be 
unwilling  to  move,)  thank  the  [j)Ti\  for  her, 
marry  her,  and  account  her  a  valuable  por- 
tion, though  sh(!  should  not  iiave  a  hhillmg. 
Hut,  while  you  are  without  in<-ome  or  settle- 
ment, if  you  have  thoughts  of  marriage,  I 
hope  they  will  be  reijulatcd  by  a  due  regard 
to  consecjuences.  They  who  set  the  least 
value  upon  money  have  in  some  respects  the 
most  need  of  it.  A  generous  mind  will  feel  a 
thou.sand  pangs  in  straitening  circumstances, 
which  some  unfeeling  hearts  would  not  be 
sensible  of  You  could  perhaps  endure  hard- 
ships alone,  yet  it  might  pinch  you  to  the 
very  bone  to  see  the  person  you  love  ex|X)sed 
to  them.  Besides,  you  might  have  a  John, 
a  Thomas,  and  a  William,  and  perhaps  half^ 
a  dozen  more  to  feed  (for  they  must  all  eat;) 
and  how  this  could  be  done  without  a  com- 
petency on  one  side  or  the  other,  or  so  much 
on  both  sides  as  will  make  a  competency 
when  united,  I  see  not.  Besides,  you  would 
be  grieved  not  to  find  an  occasional  sliilling 
in  your  pocket  to  bestow  upon  one  or  other 
of  the  Lord's  poor,  though  you  should  be  able 
to  make  some  sort  of  a  shift  for  those  of  your 
own  house. 

But  is  it  not  written,  "Tlie  Lord  will  pro- 
vide?" It  is;  but  it  is  written  again,  "Thou 
shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God."  Hastily 
to  plunge  ourselves  into  difficulties  upon  a 
persuasion  that  he  will  find  some  way  to 
extricate  us,  seems  to  me  a  species  of  tempt- 
ing him. 

Therefore  I  judge,  it  is  so  far  lawful  for 
you  to  have  a  regard  to  money  in  looking  out 
for  a  wife,  that  it  would  be  wrong,  that  is,  in 
other  words,  unlawful  for  you  to  omit  it, 
supposing  you  have  a  purpose  of  marrying  ia 
your  present  situation. 

Many  serious  young  women  have  a  predi- 
lection in  favour  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel ; 
and  I  believe  among  such  one  or  more  may 
be  found  as  spiritual,  as  amiable,  as  suitable 
to  make  you  a  good  wife,  with  a  tolerable  for- 
tune to  boot,  as  another  who  has  not  a  penny. 
If  you  are  not  willing  to  trust  your  own  judg- 
ment in  the  search,  entreat  the  Lord  to  find 
her  for  you.  He  chose  well  for  Isaac  and 
Jacob;  and  you,  as  a  believer,  have  warrant 
to  commit  your  way  to  him,  and  many 
more  express  promises  than  they  had  for 
your  encouragement.  He  knows  your  state, 
your  wants,  what  you  are  at  present,  and 
what  use  he  designs  to  make  of  you. 
Trust  in  him,  and^  wait  for  him ;  prayer 
and  faith,  and  patience,  are  never  disap- 
pointed. I  commend  you  to  his  blessing 
and  guidance.  Remember  us  to  all  in  your 
house. — 1  ara,  &-c. 


330 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  R- 


LETTER  V. 


Mat/  28,  1775. 

DEAR  SIR, — 

-     - You  must  not  expect  a 

long  letter  this  morning-;  we  are  just  going 
to  court,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  King,  for  he 
has  promised  to  meet  us.  We  can  say  he  is 
mindful  of  his  promises ;  and  yet  is  it  not 
strange,  that  though  we  are  all  in  the  same 
place,  and  the  King  in  the  midst  of  us,  it  is 
but  here  and  there  one  (even  of  those  who 
love  him)  can  see  him  at  once  !  However,  in 
our  turns,  we  are  all  favoured  with  a  glimpse 
of  him,  and  have  had  cause  to  say.  How  great 
is  his  goodness !  How  great  is  his  beauty  ! 
We  have  the  advantage  of  the  queen  of  She- 
ba,  a  more  glorious  object  to  behold,  and  not 
so  far  to  go  for  the  sight  of  it.  If  a  transient 
glance  exceeds  all  that  the  world  can  afford 
for  a  long  continuance,  what  must  it  be  to 
dwell  with  him  !  If  a  day  in  his  courts  be 
better  than  a  thousand,  what  will  eternity  be 
in  his  presence  !  I  hope  the  more  you  see, 
the  more  you  love ;  the  more  you  drink,  the 
more  you  thirst ;  the  more  you  do  for  him, 
the  more  you  are  ashamed  you  can  do  so  lit- 
tle ;  and  that  the  nearer  you  approach  to  your 
journey's  end,  the  more  your  pace  is  quick- 
ened. Surely  the  power  of  spiritual  attrac- 
tion should  increase  as  the  distance  lessens. 
O  that  heavenly  load-stone  !  may  it  so  draw 
us,  that  we  may  not  creep,  but  run.  In  com- 
mon travelling,  the  strongest  become  weary, 
if  the  journey  be  very  long ;  but  in  the  spi- 
ritual journey,  we  are  encouraged  with  a 
hope  of  going  on  from  strength  to  strength. 
Instaurabit  iter  vires,  as  Johnson  expresses 
it.  No  road  but  the  road  to  heaven  can  thus 
communicate  refreshment  to  those  who  walk 
in  it,  and  make  them  more  fresh  and  lively 
■when  they  are  just  finishing  their  course, 
than  when  they  first  set  out. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VL 

April  18,  1776. 

DEAR  SIR, — Are  you  sick,  or  lame  of  your 
right  hand,  or  are  you  busy  in  preparing  a 
folio  for  the  press,  that  I  hear  nothing  from 
you  ?  You  see,  by  the  excuses  I  would  con- 
trive, I  am  not  willing  to  suppose  you  have 
forgotten  me,  but  that  your  silence  is  rather 
owing  to  a  cannot  than  a  ivill  not. 

I  hope  your  soul  prospers.  I  do  not  ask 
you,  if  you  are  always  filled  with  sensible 
comfort:  but  do  you  find  your  spirit  more 
bowed  down  to  the  feet  and  will  of  Jesus,  so 
as  to  be  willing  to  serve  him  for  the  sake  of 
serving  him,  and  to  follow  him,  as  we  say, 
through  thick  and  thin ;  to  be  willing  to  be 
any  1  hing  or  nothing,  so  that  he  may  be  glo- 
rified]    I  could  give  you  pl^enty  of  good  ad- 


-•  [let.  in. 

vice  upon  this  head  ;  but  I  am  ashamed  to  do 
it,  because  I  so  poorly  follow  it  myself  1 
want  to  live  with  him  by  the  day,  to  do  all 
for  him,  to  receive  all  from  him,  to  possess 
all  in  him,  to  live  all  to  him,  to  make  him  my 
hiding-place  and  my  resting-place.  I  want 
to  deliver  up  that  rebel  self  to  him  in  chains ; 
but  the  rogue,  like  Proteus,  puts  on  so  many 
forms,  that  he  slips  through  my  fingers:  but 
I  think  I  know  what  I  would  do,  if  I  could 
fairly  catch  him. 

My  soul  is  like  a  besieged  city;  a  legion 
of  enemies  without  the  gates,  and  a  nest  of 
restless  traitors  within,  tliat  hold  a  corres- 
pondence with  them  without;  so  that  I  am 
deceived  and  counteracted  continually.  It  is 
a  mercy  that  I  have  not  been  surprised  and 
overwhelmed  long  ago ;  without  help  from  on 
high,  it  would  soon  be  over  with  me.  How 
often  have  I  been  forced  to  cry  out,  O  God, 
the  heathen  are  got  into  thine  inheritance ; 
thy  holy  temple  have  they  defiled,  and  de- 
faced ail  thy  work  !  Indeed,  it  is  a  miracle 
that  I  still  hold  out.  I  trust,  however,  I 
shall  be  supported  to  the  end,  and  that  my 
Lord  will  at  length  raise  the  siege,  and  cause 
me  to  shout  deliverance  and  victory. 

Pray  for  me,  that  my  walls  may  be  strength- 
ened, and  wounds  healed.  We  are  all  pretty 
well  as  to  the  outward  man,  and  join  in  love 
to  all  friends. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  VII. 

July  6,  1776. 
DEAR  SIR, — I  was  abroad  when  your  letter 
came,  but  employ  the  first  post  to  thank  you 
for  your  confidence.  My  prayers  (when  I 
can  pray)  you  may  be  sure  of.  As  to  advice, 
I  see  not  that  the  case  requires  much.  Only 
be  a  quiet  child,  and  lie  patiently  at  the 
Lord's  feet.  He  is  the  best  friend  and  ma- 
nager in  these  matters,  for  he  has  a  key  to 
open  every  heart        -        -        -        - 


I  should  not  have  taken  Mr 

Z 's  letter  for  a  denial,  as  it  seems  you 

did.  Considering  the  years  of  the  parties, 
and  other  circumstances,  a  prudent  parent 
could  hardly  say  more,  if  he  were  inclined  to 
favour  your  views.  To  me  you  seem  to  be 
in  a  tolerable  fair  way ;  but  I  "know,  in  affairs 
of  this  kind,  Mr.  Self  does  not  like  suspense, 
but  w^ould  willingly  come  to  the  pomt  at 
once;  but-  Mr.  Faith,  when  he  gets  liberty 
to  hold  up  his  head,  will  own,  that  in  order 
to  make  our  temporal  mercies  wear  well,  and 
to  give  us  a  clearer  sense  of  the  hand  that 
bestows  them,  a  waiting  and  a  praying  time 
are  very  seasonable.  Worldly  people  expect 
their  schemes  to  run  upon  all-fours,  as  we 
say,  and  the  objects  of  their  wishes  to  drcp 
into  their  mouths  without  difficulty;  and  if 


Lrr.  VIII.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  II- 


S97 


tl»ey  succeed,  tlioy  of  course  burn  inconso  to 
their  own  ilrn^,  uiul  sii\\  Tliin  was  my  tloiii;: ; 
but  iM'liovcrs  lucvl  with  ruks  und  »lisii|>|X)inl- 
nieuLs,  which  convinc*?  them,  that  il'they  ob- 
tain any  thin«j,  it  is  the  Ix)rd  must  do  it  for 
them.  For  this  reason,  i  observe,  that  he 
usually  briufjs  a  death  u|K>n  our  prospects, 
oven  when  it  is  his  pur|K)se  to  jjive  us  success 
in  the  issue.  Thus  we  become  more  assured 
that  we  did  not  act  in  our  own  spirits,  and 
liave  a  more  satisfactory  view,  that  his  pri>- 
vidence  has  been  concerned  in  lillin<^  up  tlie 
rivers  and  removing  the  mountains  that  were 
in  our  way.  Then,  when  he  has  <riven  us  our 
desire,  how  pleasant  is  it  to  look  at  it,  and 
say,  This  I  got  not  by  my  own  sword,  and 
my  own  bow,  but  I  wrestled  for  it  in  prayer, 
I  waited  for  it  in  faith,  I  put  it  into  the  Lord's 
hand,  and  from  his  hand  I  received  it? 

You  have  met  with  the  story  of  one  of  our 
kings  (if  I  mistake  not,)  who  wanted  to  send 
a  nobleman  abroad  as  his  ambassador,  and  he 
desired  to  be  excused  on  account  of  some  af- 
fairs which  required  his  presence  at  home : 
the  king  answered,  "  Do  you  take  care  of 
my  business,  and  I  will  take  care  of  yours." 
I  would  have  you  think  the  Lord  says  thus 
to  you.  You  were  sent  into  the  world  for  a 
nobler  end  than  to  be  pinned  to  a  girl's  apron- 
string  ;  and  yet,  if  the  Lord  sees  it  not  good 
for  you  to  be  alone,  he  will  provide  you  a 
help-mate.  I  say,  if  he  sees  the  marriage- 
state  best  for  you,  he  has  the  proper  person 
already  in  his  eye,  and  though  she  were  in 
Peru  or  Nova  Zembla,  he  knows  how  to  bring 
you  together.  In  the  mean  time,  go  thou 
and  preach  the  gospel.  Watch  in  all  things; 
endure  afflictions :  do  the  work  of  an  evan- 
gelist; make  full  proof  of  your  ministry :  and 
when  other  thoughts  rise  in  your  mind  (for 
you  have  no  door  to  shut  them  quite  out,) 
run  with  them  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
commit  them  to  the  Lord.  Satan  will  per- 
haps try  to  force  them  upon  you  unseasonably 
and  inordinately;  but  if  he  sees  they  drive  you 
to  prayer,  he  will  probably  desist,  rather  than 
be  the  occasion  of  doing  you  so  much  good. 
Believe,  likewise,  that  as  the  Lord  has  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  person,  so  he  fixes  the  time. 
His  time  is  like  the  time  of  the  tide ;  all  the 
art  and  power  of  man  can  neither  hasten  nor 
retard  it  a  moment :  it  must  be  waited  for ; 
nothing  can  be  done  without  it,  and  when  it 
comes,  nothing  can  resist  it.  It  is  unbelief  that 
talks  of  delays ;  faith  knows  that  properly 
there  can  be  no  such  thing.  The  only  reason 
why  the  Lord  seems  to  delay  what  he  after- 
wards grants,  is,  that  the  best  hour  is  not  yet 
come.  I  know  you  have  been  enabled  to 
commit  and  resign  your  all  to  his  disposal. 
You  did  well.  May  he  help  you  to  stand  to 
the  surrender.  Sometimes  he  will  put  us  to 
the  trial,  whether  we  mean  what  we  say.  He 
takes  his  course  in  a  way  we  did  not  ex- 
pect; and  then,  alas!  how  often  does  the  trial 
2U 


put  us  to  shame!  Presently  thrro  is  an  out. 
cry  rained  in  tlie  soul  Qgain«t  hiH  maiiA^^o- 
ment;  this  is  wrong,  tiiut  unnt.'cesMiry,  the 
otht'r  lia.H  s|>oiled  the  whole  plan  :  in  short, 
all  these  thmgs  are  against  us.  And  then  we 
go  into  the  pulpit,  and  gravfdy  tell  the  jxx>p]e 
how  wise  and  liow  iTood  he  is;  and  precch 
submission  t(j  his  will,  not  only  as  a  duty,  but 
a  privilege.  Alas!  how  deceitful  is  the  lieart! 
Yet,  since  it  i.s,  and  will  l>e  so,  it  is  neces- 
sary we  should  know  it  by  e.x}M,'rience.  We 
hav(;  reason,  however,  to  say,  He  is  good  and 
wise;  for  he  l)cars  with  our  perverseness,  and 
in  the  event  shows  us,  that  if  he  liad  listened 
to  our  rnurmurings,  and  taken  the  methods 
we  would  have  proscribed  to  him,  we  should 
have  been  ruined  indeed,  and  that  he  haa 
been  all  the  while  doing  us  gfxxi  in  spite  of 
ourselves. 

If  I  judge  riglit,  you  will  find  your  way 
providentially  opened  more  and  more;  and 
yet  it  is  jx)ssible,  that  when  you  begin  to 
think  yourself  sure,  something  may  happen 
to  put  you  in  a  panic  again.  I3ut  a  believer, 
like  a  sailor,  is  not  to  be  surprised  if  the 
wind  changes,  but  to  learn  the  art  of  suiting 
himself  to  all  winds  for  the  time ;  and  though 
many  a  poor  sailor  is  shipwrecked,  the  poor 
believer  shall  gain  his  port.  O,  it  is  good 
sailing  with  an  infallible  pilot  at  the  helm, 
who  lias  the  wind  and  weather  at  his  com- 
mand ! 

I  have  been  much  abroad,  which  of  course 
puts  things  at  sixes  and  sevens  at  home.  If 
I  did  not  love  you  well,  I  could  not  have 
spared  so  much  of  the  only  day  I  have  had 
to  myself  for  this  fortnight  past.  But  I  was 
willing  you  should  know  that  I  think  of  you, 
and  feel  for  you,  if  I  cannot  help  you. 

I  have  read  Mr. 's  book.      Some 

things  I  think  strongly  argued  ;  in  some  he 
has  laid  himself  open  to  a  blow,  and  I  doubt 
not  but  he  will  have  it.  I  expect  answers, 
replies,  rejoinders,  &c.  &c.  and  say,  with 
Leah,  Gad,  a  troop  cometh.  How  the  wolf 
will  grin  to  see  the  sheep  and  the  shepherds 
biting  and  worrying  one  another!  And  well 
he  may.  He  knows  that  contentions  are  a 
surer  way  to  weaken  the  spirit  of  love,  and 
stop  the  progress  of  the  gospel,  than  his  old 
stale  method  of  fire  and  sword.  Well,  I  trust 
we  shall  be  of  one  heart  and  one  mind  when 
w^e  get  to  heaven  at  last. 

Let  who  will  fight,  I  trust  neither  water 
nor  fire  shall  set  you  and  me  at  variance. 
We  unite  in  love  to  you.  The  Lord  is  gra- 
cious to  us,  &c. — I  am,  &-c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

1776. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  do  not  often  serve  your  letters 
so,  but  this  last  I  burnt,  believing  you  would 


338 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  R- 


like  to  have  it  out  of  danger  of  falling  into 
improper  hands.  When  I  saw  how  eagerly 
the  flames  devoured  the  paper,  how  quickly 
and  entirely  every  trace  of  the  writing  was 
consumed,  I  wished  that  the  fire  of  the  love 
of  Jesus  might  as  completely  obliterate  from 
your  heart  every  uneasy  impression  which 
your  disappointment  has  given  you    -    -    - 


-  -  ...  _  -  Surely  when  he  crosses  our 
wishes,  it  is  always  in  mercy,  and  because  we 
short-sighted  creatures  often  know  not  what 
we  ask  nor  what  would  be  the  consequences 
if  our  desires  were  granted. 

Your  pride,  it  seems,  has  received  a  fall, 
by  meeting  a  repulse.  I  know  self  does  not 
like  to  be  mortified  in  these  afl^airs ;  but  if 
you  are  made  successful  in  wooing  souls  for 
Christ,  I  hope  that  will  console  you  for  meet- 
ing a  rebuff  when  only  wooing  for  yourself 
Besides,  I  would  have  you  pluck  up  your 
spirits.  I  have  two  good  old  proverbs  at  your 
service  :  "  There  is  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as 
any  that  are  brought  out  of  it:"  and,  "If 
one  won't,  another  will,  or  wherefore  serves 
the  market  ?"  Perhaps  all  your  difficulties 
have  arisen  from  this,  that  you  have  not  yet 
seen  the  right  person ;  if  so,  you  have  reason 
to  be  thankful  that  the  Lord  would  not  let 
you  take  the  wrong,  though  you  unwittingly 
would  have  done  it  if  you  could.  Where 
the  right  one  lies  hid  I  know  not;  but  upon  a 
supposition  that  it  will  be  good  for  you  to 
marry,  I  may  venture  to  say, 

Ubi  ubi  est,  diu  celari  non  potest 

The  Lord  in  his  providence  will  disclose  her, 
put  her  in  your  way,  and  give  you  to  under- 
stand, This  is  she.  Then  you  will  find  your 
business  go  forward  with  wheels  and  wings, 
and  have  cause  to  say.  His  choice  and  time 
were  better  than  your  own. 

Did  I  not  tell  you  formerly,  that  if  you 
would  take  care  of  his  business,  he  will  take 
care  of  yours]  I  am  of  the  same  mind  still. 
He  will  not  suflfer  them  who  fear  him  and  de- 
pend upon  him  to  want  any  thing  that  is  truly 
good  for  them.  In  the  mean  while,  I  advise 
you  to  take  a  lodging  as  near  as  you  can  to 
Gethsemane,  and  to  walk  daily  to  mount  Gol- 
gotha, and  borrow  (which  may  be  had  for 
asking)  that  telescope  which  gives  a  prospect 
into  the  unseen  w^orld.  A  view  of  what  is 
passing  within  the  vail  has  a  marvellous  effect 
to  compose  our  spirits,  with  regard  to  the 
little  things  that  are  daily  passing  here. 
Praise  the  Lord,  who  has  enabled  you  to  fix 
your  supreme  affection  upon  him,  who  is 
alone  the  proper  and  suitable  object  of  it,  and 
from  whom  you  cannot  meet  a  denial,  or  fear 
a  change.  He  loved  you  first,  and  he  will 
love  you  for  ever ;  and  if  he  be  pleased  to 
arise  and  smile  upon  you,  you  are  in  no  more 
necessity  of  begging  for  happmess  to  the 


[let.  EC 


prettiest  creature  upon  earth,  than  of  the  light 
of  a  candle  on  midsummer  noon. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  pray  and  hope  the  Lord 
will  sweeten  your  cross,  and  either  in  kind 
or  in  kindness  make  you  good  amends. 
Wait,  pray,  and  believe,  and  all  shall  be  well. 
A  cross  we  must  have  somewhere ;  and  they 
who  are  favoured  with  health,  plenty,  peace, 
and  a  conscience  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of 
Jesus,  must  have  more  causes  for  thankful- 
ness than  grief  Look  round  you,  and  take 
notice  of  the  very  severe  afflictions  which 
many  of  the  Lord's  own  people  are  groaning- 
under,  and  your  trials  will  appear  compara- 
tively light.  Our  love  to  all  friends. — I  am,. 
&c. 


LETTER  IX. 

June  3,  1777. 

DEAR  SIR, — It  seems  I  must  write  some- 
thing about  the  small-pox,  but  I  know  not 
well  what;  having  had  it  myself,  I  cannot 
judge  how  I  should  feel  if  1  were  actually 
exposed  to  it.  I  am  not  a  professed  advocate 
for  inoculation  ;  but  if  a  person  who  fears  the 
Lord  should  tell  me,  "I  think  I  can  do  it  in 
faith,  looking  upon  it  as  a  salutary  expedient, 
which  he  in  his  providence  has  discovered, 
and  which,  therefore,  appears  my  duty  to 
have  recourse  to,  so  that  my  mind  does  not 
hesitate  with  respect  to  the  lawfulness,  nor 
am  I  anxious  about  the  event;  being  satisfied, 
that  whether  I  live  or  die,  I  am  in  that  path 
in  which  I  can  cheerfully  expect  his  blessing,'* 
I  do  not  know  that  I  could  ofier  a  word  by 
way  of  dissuasion. 

If  another  person  should  say,  "  My  times 
are  in  the  Lord's  hands ;  I  am  now  in  health, 
and  am  not  willing  to  bring  upon  myself  a 
disorder,  the  consequences  of  which  I  cannot 
possibly  foresee :  if  I  am  to  have  the  small- 
pox, I  believe  he  is  the  best  judge  of  the  sea- 
son and  manner  in  which  I  shall  be  visited, 
so  as  may  be  most  for  his  glory  and  my  own 
good :  and  therefore  I  choose  to  wait  his  ap- 
pointment, and  not  to  rush  upon  even  the  pos- 
sibility of  danger  without  a  call.  If  the  very 
hairs  of  my  head  are  numbered,  I  have  no 
reason  to  fear,  that,  supposing  I  receive  the 
small-pox  in  a  natural  way,  I  shall  have  a 
single  pimple  more  than  he  sees  expedient ; 
and  why  should  I  wish  to  have  one  lessT 
Nay,  admitting,  which,  however,  is  not  al- 
ways the  case,  that  inoculation  might  exempt 
me  from  some  pain  and  inconvenience,  and 
lessen  the  apparent  danger,  might  it  not  like- 
wise, upon  that  very  account,  prevent  my  re- 
ceiving some  of  those  sweet  consolations, 
which  I  humbly  hope '  my  gracious  Lord 
would  aflx)rd  me,  if  it  were  his  pleasure  to- 
call  me  to  a  sharp  trial.  Perhaps  the  chief 
design  of  this  trying  hour  if  it  comes,  may^ 


LET.  IX.] 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  R- 


389 


be  to  show  mo  nioro  of  his  wisdom,  povvor, 
aiid  lovo,  tlmn  1  liiivo  rvor  yet  o.\[)ori«'iice(l. 
If  I  could  dovistMi  moan  to  avoid  tlio  troid)l«', 
I  know  not  lu)W  jrn'nt  n  loser  I  may  bo  in 
point  of  ij^raro  and  comfort.  Nor  am  I  afraid 
of  my  face;  it  is  now  as  the  Lord  has  mado 
it,  and  it  will  bo  so  af^T  the  small-po.\.  If 
it  pleases  him,  I  hope  it  will  please  mo.  In 
short,  thouirh  I  do  not  consuVe  others,  yet,  as 
to  myself,  inoculation  is  what  I  dare  not 
venture  u{Kin.  If  I  did  venture,  and  the  issue 
should  not  be  tavourable,  I  should  blamo  my- 
self for  havin«T  attempted  to  take  the  manaofe- 
nient  out  of  the  lord's  hand  into  my  own, 
which  I  never  did  yet  in  other  matters,  with- 
out tinding-  I  am  no  more  able  than  I  am 
worthy  to  choose  for  myself.  Besides,  at  the 
best,  inoculation  would  only  secure  me  from 
one  of  the  innumerable  natural  evils  the  flesh 
is  heir  to ;  I  should  still  be  as  liable  as  I  am 
at  present  to  a  putrid  fever,  a  bilious  colic, 
an  inflammation  in  the  bowels  or  in  the  brain, 
and  a  thousand  formidable  diseases  which 
are  hovering  round  me,  and  only  wait  his 
permission  to  cut  me  off*  in  a  few  days  or 
hours :  and  therefore  I  am  determined,  by 
his  grace,  to  resign  myself  to  his  disposal. 
Let  me  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord  (for 
his  mercies  are  great,)  and  not  into  the  hands 
of  men." 

If  a  person  should  talk  to  rae  in  this  strain, 
most  certainly  I  could  not  say,  Notwithstand- 
ing all  this,  your  safest  way  is  to  be  inocu- 
lated 


Wo  preach  and  hear,  and  I  hopo  wo  know 
sfunething  of  faitli,  as  enabling  us  to  intrunt 
the  Lord  with  our  souls:  I  wish  we  ha<i  all 
more  faith  to  intrust  him  with  our  Ixxlir-H,  our 
health,  our  provision,  and  our  tcmjK)ral  com- 
forts likewise.  The  former  should  seem  to 
require  the  strongest  faith  of  the  two.  How 
stninge  is  it,  that  when  wc  think  we  can  do 
the  greater,  we  should  be  so  awkward  and 
unskilful  when  we  aim  at  the  less  !  (iivc  my 
love  to  your  friend.  1  dare  not  advise:  but 
if  she  can  quietly  return  at  the  usual  time, 
and  neither  run  intentionally  into  the  way 
of  the  small-pox,  nor  run  out  of  the  way,  but 
leave  it  simply  with  the  Lord,  I  shall  not 
blame  her.  And  if  you  will  mind  your  praying 
and  preaching,  and  believe  that  the  Lord  can 
take  care  of  her  without  any  of  your  contri- 
vances, I  shall  not  blame  you :  nay,  I  shall 
praise  him  for  you  both.  My  prescription  is, 
to  read  Dr.  Watts'  cxxi.st  Psalm  every  morn- 
ing before  breakfast,  and  pray  it  over  till  the 
cure  is  effected.     Probatum  est. 


Hast  thou  not  given  thy  word, 

To  save  my  soul  from  death  ? 
And  I  can  trust  my  Lord 
To  keep  my  mortal  breathe 
I'll  go  and  come, 
Nor  fear  to  die, 
Till  from  on  high 
Thou  call  rae  home. 


Adieu.    Pray  for  your*8. 


LETTERS 


TO  MISS  TH- 


LETTER  I. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Let  what  has  been 
paid  on  the  subject  of  acquaintance,  «&lc.  suf- 
fice. It  was  well  meant  on  my  side  and 
well  taken  on  yours.  You  may,  perhaps,  see 
that  my  hints  were  not  wholly  unnecessary, 
and  I  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  your  apology, 
and  am  so.  The  circumstance  of  your  being- 
seen  at  the  play  house  has  nothing  at  all 
mysterious  in  it:  as  you  say  you  have  not 
been  there  this  six  or  seven  years,  it  was 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a  mistake.  I 
heard  you  had  been  there  within  these  two 
years :  I  am  glad  to  find  I  was  misinformed. 
I  think  there  is  no  harm  in  your  supposing, 
that  of  the  many  thousands  who  frequent 
public  diversions  some  may  in  other  respects 
be  better  than  yourself;  but  I  hope  your 
humble  and  charitable  construction  of  their 
mistake  will  not  lead  you  to  extenuate  the 
evil  of  those  diversions  in  themselves.  For 
though  I  am  persuaded,  that  a  few,  who 
know  better  what  to  do  with  themselves,  are 
for  want  of  consideration,  drawn  in  to  expose 
themselves  in  such  places;  yet  I  am  well 
satisfied  that,  if  there  is  any  practice  in  this 
land  sinful,  attendance  on  the  playhouse  is 
properly  and  eminently  so.  The  theatres  are 
fountains  and  means  of  vice ;  I  had  almost 
said,  in  the  same  manner  and  degree  as  the 
ordinances  of  the  gospel  are  the  means  of 
grace :  and  I  can  hardly  think  there  is  a  chris- 
tian upon  earth  who  would  dare  to  be  seen 
there,  if  the  nature  and  effects  of  the  theatre 
were  properly  set  before  them.  Dr.  Wither- 
spoon  of  Scotland,  has  written  an  excellent 
piece  upon  the  stage,  or  rather  against  it, 
which  I  wish  every  person  who  makes  the 
least  pretence  to  fear  God  had  an  opportunity 
of  perusing.  I  cannot  judge  much  more  fa- 
vourably of  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  and  all  the 
innumerable  train  of  dissipations  by  which 
the  god  of  this  world  blinds  the  eyes  of  mul- 
titudes, lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel 
should  shine  in  upon  them.  What  an  awful 
aspect  upon  the  present  times  have  such  1 


texts  as  Isa.  xxii.  12 — 14,  iii.  12,  Amos  vi. 
3,  6,  James  iv.  4.  I  wish  you,  therefore,  not 
to  plead  for  any  of  them,  but  use  all  your  in- 
fluence to  make  them  shunned  as  pest-houses, 
and  dangerous  nuisances  to  precious  souls; 
especially,  if  you  know  any  who,  you  hope, 
in  the  main  are  seriously  disposed,  who  yet 
venture  themselves  in  those  purlieus  of  Satan, 
endeavour  earnestly  and  faithfully  to  unde- 
ceive them. 

The  time  is  short,  eternity  at  the  door :  and 
was  there  no  other  evil  in  these  vain  amuse- 
ments than  the  loss  of  precious  time  (but, 
alas  !  their  name  is  legion,)  we  have  not  lei- 
sure, in  our  circumstances,  to  regard  them. 
But,  blessed  be  God !  we  need  them  not. 
The  gospel  opens  a  source  of  purer,  sweeter, 
and  more  substantial  pleasures :  we  are  in- 
vited to  communion  with  God  ;  we  are  called 
to  share  in  the  theme  of  angels;  the  songs  of 
heaven,  and  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love 
are  laid  open  to  our  view.  The  Lord  him- 
self is  waiting  to  be  gracious,  waiting  with 
promises  and  pardons  in  his  hands.  Well, 
then,  may  we  bid  adieu  to  the  perishing  plea- 
sures of  sin  ;  well  may  we  pity  those  who 
can  find  pleasure  in  those  places  and  parties 
where  he  is  shut  out;  where  his  name  is  only 
mentioned  to  be  profaned ;  where  his  com- 
mandments are  not  only  broken  but  insulted ; 
where  sinners  proclaim  their  shame  as  in  So- 
dom, and  attempt  not  to  hide  it ;  where  at 
best  wickedness  is  wrapt  up  in  a  disguise  of 
delicacy,  to  make  it  more  insinuating,  and 
nothing  is  offensive  that  is  not  grossly  and 
unpolifely  indecent. 

I  sympathize  with  all  your"  complaints; 
but  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  make  them  sub- 
servient to  the  increase  of  your  sanctifica- 
tion,  to  wean  you  more  and  more  from  this 
world,  and  to' draw  you  nearer  to  himself, 
you  will  one  day  see  cause  to  be  thankful 
for  them,  and  to  number  them  amongst 
your  choicest  mercies.  A  hundred  years 
hence  it  will  signify  little  to  you  whether 
you  were  sick  or  well  the  day  I  wrote  this 
letter. 

340 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  TII- 


LET.   Ill] 


We  thank  you  for  your  kind  condolonco. 
riiere  is  a  plrasuro  in  tlio  pity  of  a  friend  ; 
but  the  l/)rd  aU>nt'  ran  i^ivo  true  rouifort.  I 
hope  lie  will  sjinctily  the  breach,  and  do  us 

g^ood.    Mrs. exehanijes  forgiveness  with 

you  alK)ut  y*)ur  not  ineetiuf]^  in  l/mdon ;  that 
IS,  you  fori^ix  e  Iut  not  coming  to  you,  and  s\w 
fori^ives  you  entertainin;^  a  suspicious  thouijht 
of  her  friendship  (lhouj,'h  but  for  a  minute) 
on  account  of  what  slie  was  really  unable  to 
do. — I  aiu,  &,c. 


rvii 


LETTER  IL 

September  1,  1767. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — I  sliall  not  study  for 
expressions  to  tell  my  dear  friend  how  much 
we  were  affected  by  the  news  that  came  last 
post.  We  had,  however,  the  pleasure  to 
hear  that  your  family  was  safe.  I  hope  this 
will  find  you  recovered  from  the  hurry  of 
spirits  you  must  have  been  thrown  into,  and 
that  both  you  and  your  papa  are  composed 
under  the  appointment  of  him  who  has  a 
right  to  dispose  of  his  own  as  he  pleases ;  for 
we  know,  that  whatever  may  be  the  second 
causes  and  occasions,  nothing  can  happen  to 
us  but  according  to  the  will  of  our  heavenly 
Father.  Since  what  is  past  cannot  be  re- 
called, my  part  is  now  to  pray,  that  this,  and 
every  other  dispensation  you  meet  with,  may 
be  sanctified  to  your  soul's  good,  that  you 
may  be  more  devoted  to  the  God  of  your  life, 
and  have  a  clearer  sense  of  your  interest  in 
that  kingdom  which  cannot  be  shaken,  that 
treasure  which  neither  thieves  nor  flames  can 
touch,  that  better  and  more  enduring  sub- 
stance which  is  laid  up  for  believers,  where 
Jesus  their  Head  and  Saviour  is.  With  this 
view  you  may  take  joyfully  the  spoiling  of 
your  goods. 

I  think  I  can  feel  for  my  friends ;  but  for 
such  as  I  hope  have  a  right  to  that  promise, 
that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  their 
good,  I  soon  check  my  solicitude,  and  ask 
myself,  Do  I  love  them  better,  or  could  I 
manage  more  wisely  for  them,  than  the  Lord 
does  J  Can  I  wish  them  to  be  in  safer  or 
more  compassionate  hands  than  in  his }  Will 
he  who  delights  in  the  prosperity  of  his  ser- 
vants, afflict  them  with  sickness,  losses,  and 
alarms,  except  he  sees  there  is  need  of  these 
things]  Such  thoughts  calm  the  emotions 
of  my  mind.  I  sincerely  condole  you ;  but 
the  command  is,  to  rejoice  always  in  the  Lord. 
The  visitation  was  accompanied  with  mercy. 
Not  such  a  case  as  that  of  the  late  Lady 
JMolesvvorth's,  which  made  every  one's  ears 
to  tingle  that  heard  it.  Nor  is  yours  such  a 
case  as  of  some,  who,  in  almost  every  great 
fire  lose  their  all,  and  perhaps  have  no  know- 
ledge of  God  to  support  them. 

Though  our  first  apprehensions  were  for 


you,  wo  almost  forgot  you  for  a  moment, 
when  we  thought  of  your  noxt-dof)r  neigh- 
iKjur,  and  the  circumstancf;  she  wa.s  in,  ho  un- 
fit to  hear  either  a  fright  or  a  removal.  Wo 
shall  be  in  much  suspense  till  we  hoar  from 
you.  (1(k1  grant  that  you  may  be  abb.'  to 
send  UH  good  news,  that  you  are  nil  well, 
at  least  as  well  as  can  he  expected  af\er  such 
a  distressing  scene.  If  what  has  haj)i)ened 
should  give  you  more  leisure,  or  more  incli- 
nation to  spend  a  little  time  with  us,  I  think 
I  need  not  say  we  shall  rejoice  to  receive  you. 
— I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  III. 

September  17,  1707. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — The  Vanity  of  all  things 
below  is  confirmed  to  us  by  daily  experience. 
Amongst  other  proofs,  one  is,  the  precarious- 
ness  of  our  intimacies,  and  what  little  things, 
or  rather  what  nothings  will  sometimes  pro- 
duce a  coolness,  or  at  least  a  strangeness  be- 
tween the  dearest  friends.  How  is  it  that 
our  correspondence  has  been  dropt,  and  that, 
after  having  written  two  letters  since  the 
fire,  which  removed  you  from  your  former 
residence,  I  should  be  still  disappointed  in 
my  hopes  of  an  answer  1  On  our  parts  I 
liope  there  has  been  no  abatement  of  regard ; 
nor  can  I  charge  you  with  any  thing  but  re- 
missness. Therefore,  waving  the  past,  and 
all  apologies  on  either  side,  let  me  beg  you 
to  write  soon,  to  tell  us  how  it  is  with  you, 
and  how  you  have  been  supported  under  the 
various  changes  you  have  met  with  since 
we  saw  you  last.  I  doubt  not  but  you  have 
met  with  many  exercises.  I  pray  that  they 
may  have  been  sanctified  to  lead  you  nearer 
to  the  Lord,  the  foundation  of  all  consola- 
tion, who  is  the  only  refuge  in  time  of  trou- 
bles, and  whose  gracious  presence  is  abun- 
dantly able  to  make  up  every  deficiency  and 
every  loss.  Perhaps  the  reading  of  this  may 
recal  to  your  mmd  our  past  conversations, 
and  the  subjects  of  the  many  letters  we  have 
exchanged.  I  know  not  in  what  manner  to 
write  after  so  long  an  interval.  I  would  hope 
your  silence  to  us  has  not  been  owing  to  any 
change  of  sentiments,  which  might  make  such 
letters  as  mine  less  welcome  to  you.  Yet 
when  you  had  a  friend,  who,  I  think  you  be- 
lieved very  nearly  interested  himself  in  your 
welfare,  it  seems  strange  that  in  a  course  of 
two  years  you  should  have  nothing  to  com- 
municate. 1  cannot  suppose  you  have  for- 
gotten me ;  I  am  sure  I  have  not  forgotten 
you  ;  and  therefore  I  long  to  hear  from  you 
soon,  that  I  may  know  how  to  write ;  and 
should  this  likewise  pass  unanswered,  I  must 
sit  down  and  mourn  over  my  loss. 

As  to  our  affairs,  I  can  tell  you  the  Lord 
has  been  and  is  exceedingly  gracious  to  us ; 


342 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  TH- 


our  lives  are  preserved,  our  healths  continued, 
an  abundance  of  mercies  and  blessings  on 
every  side;  but  especially  we  have  to  praise 
him  that  he  is  pleased  to  crown  the  means 
and  ordinances  of  his  grace  with  tokens  of  his 
presence.  It  is  my  happiness  to  be  fixed 
amongst  an  affectionate  people,  who  make  an 
open  profession  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
and  are  enabled,  in  some  measure,  to  show 
forth  its  power  in  their  lives  and  conversation. 
We  walk  in  peace  and  harmony.    I  have 


[let.  in. 


reason  to  say  the  Lord  Jesus  is  a  good  master, 
and  that  the  doctrine  of  free  salvation,  by 
faith  in  his  name,  is  a  doctrine  according  to 
godliness  ;  for  through  mercy  I  find  it  daily 
effectual  to  the  breaking  down  the  strongholds 
of  sin,  and  turning  the  hearts  of  sinners  from 
dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God.  May 
the  Lord  give  my  dear  friend  to  live  in  the 
power  and  consolation  of  his  precious  truth  I 
— I  am,  &c. 


LETTERS 

TO  . 


LETTER  I. 

March  18,  1767. 
I  CAN  truly  say,  that  I  bear  you  upon  my 
he&n  and  in  my  prayers.  I  have  rejoiced  to 
666  the  beginning  of  a  good  and  gracious  work 
in  you ;  and  I  have  confidence  in  the  Lord 
Jesus,  that  he  will  carry  it  on  and  complete 
it,  and  that  you  will  be  amongst  the  number 
of  those  who  shall  sing  redeeming  love  to  eter- 
nity. Therefore,  fear  none  of  the  things  ap- 
pointed for  you  to  suffer  by  the  way;  but  gird 
up  the  loins  of  your  mind,  and  hope  to  the 
end.  Be  not  impatient,  but  wait  humbly  up- 
on the  Lord.  You  have  one  hard  lesson  to 
learn,  that  is,  the  evil  of  your  own  heart ; 
you  know  something  of  it,  but  it  is  needful 
that  you  should  know  more ;  for  the  more  we 
know  of  ourselves,  the  more  we  shall  prize  and 
love  Jesus  and  his  salvation.  I  hope  what 
you  find  in  yourself  by  daily  experience  will 
humble  you,  but  not  discourage  you ;  hum- 
ble you  it  should,  and  I  believe  it  does.  Are 
not  you  amazed  sometimes  that  you  should 
have  BO  much  as  a  hope,  that,  poor  and  needy 
■as  you  are,  the  Lord  thinketh  of  you  ]  But 
let  not  all  you  feel  discourage  you ;  for  if  our 
Physician  is  almighty,  our  disease  cannot  be 
desperate ;  and  if  he  cast  none  out  that  come 
to  him,  why  should  you  fear  ?  Our  sins  are 
many,  but  his  mercies  are  more:  our  sins  are 
great,  but  his  righteousness  is  greater :  we 
are  weak,  but  he  is  power.  Most  of  our 
complaints  are  owing  to  unbelief,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  a  legal  spirit ;  and  these  evils  are 
not  removed  in  a  day.  Wait  on  the  Lord, 
and  he  will  enable  you  to  see  more  and  more 
of  the  power  and  grace  of  our  High-Priest. 
The  more  you  know  him,  the  better  you  will 
trust  him :  the  more  you  trust  him,  the  better 
you  will  love  him ;  the  more  you  love  him, 
the  better  you  will  serve  him.  This  is  God's 
way :  you  are  not  called  to  buy,  but  to  beg ; 
not  be  strong  in  yourself,  but  in  the  grace 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  He  is  teaching  you 
these  things,  and  I  trust  he  will  teach  you  to 
the  end.  Remember  the  growth  of  a  be- 
liever is  not  like  a  mushroom,  but  like  an  oak, 


which  increases  slowly  indeed,  but  surely. 
Many  suns,  showers,  and  frosts,  pass  upon  it 
before  it  comes  to  perfection ;  and  in  winter 
when  it  seems  dead,  it  is  gathering  strength  at 
the  root.  Be  humble,  watchful,  and  diligent 
in  the  means,  and  endeavour  to  look  through 
all,  and  fix  your  eye  upon  Jesus,  and  all  shall 
be  well.  I  commend  you  to  the  care  of  the 
good  Shepherd,  and  remain,  for  his  sake, — 
Yours,  &.C. 


LETTER  II. 

May  31,  1769. 

I  WAS  sorry  I  did  not  WTite  as  you  expected, 
but  I  hope  it  will  do  now.  Indeed,  I  have 
not  forgotten  you ;  you  are  often  in  my 
thoughts,  and  seldom  omitted  in  my  prayers. 
I  hope  the  Lord  will  make  what  you  see  and 
hear  while  abroad  profitable  to  you,  to  increase 
your  knowledge,  to  strengthen  your  faith,  and 
to  make  you  from  henceforth  well  satisfied 
with  your  situation.  If  I  am  not  mistaken, 
you  will  be  sensible,  that  though  there  are 
some  desirable  things  to  be  met  with  in  Lon- 
don preferable  to  any  other  place,  yet  upon 
the  whole,  a  quiet  situation  in  the  country, 
under  one  stated  ministry,  and  in  connexion 
with  one  people,  has  the  advantage.  It  is 
pleasant  now  and  then  to  have  opportunity  of 
hearing  a  variety  of  preachers,  but  the  best 
and  greatest  of  them  are  no  more  than  instru- 
ments ;  some  can  please  the  ear  better  than 
others,  but  none  can  reach  the  heart  any  far- 
ther than  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  open  it 
This  he  showed  you  upon  your  first  going 
up,  and  I  doubt  not  but  your  disappointment 
did  you  more  good  than  if  you  had  heard 
with  all  the  pleasure  you  expected. 

The  Lord  was  pleased  to  visit  me  with  a 
slight  illness  in  my  late  journey.  I  w^as  far 
from  well  on  the  Tuesday,  but  supposed  it 
owing  to  the  fatigue  of  riding,  and  the  heat 
of  the  weather;  but  the  next  day  I  was  taken 
with  a  shivering,  to  which  a  fever  succeeded. 
I  was  then  near  sixty  miles  from  home.  The 
Lord  gave  me  much  peace  in  my  soul,  and  I 
343 


344 


LETTERS  TO 


[let.  IV. 


was  enabled  to  hope  he  would  bring"  me  safe 
home,  in  which  I  was  not  disappointed ;  and 
though  I  had  the  fever  most  part  of  the  way, 
my  journey  was  not  unpleasant.  He  likewise 
strengthened  me  to  preach  twice  on  Sunday; 
and  at  nig-ht  I  found  myself  well,  only  very 
weary,  and  I  have  continued  w^ell  ever  since. 
I  have  reason  to  speak  much  of  his  goodness, 
and  to  kiss  the  rod,  for  it  was  sweetened  with 
abundant  mercies.  I  thought  that,  had  it 
been  his  pleasure  I  should  have  continued 
sick  at  Oxford,  or  even  have  died  there,  I 
had  no  objection.  Though  I  had  not  that  joy 
and  sensible  comfort  which  some  are  favoured 
with,  yet  I  was  quite  free  from  pain,  fear,  and 
care,  and  felt  myself  sweetly  composed  to  his 
will,  whatever  it  might  be.  Thus  he  fulfils 
his  promise  in  making  our  strength  equal  to 
our  day ;  and  every  new  trial  gives  us  a  new- 
proof  how  happy  it  is  to  be  enabled  to  put  our 
trust  in  him. 

I  hope,  in  the  midst  of  all  your  engage- 
ments, you  find  a  little  time  to  read  his  good 
word,  and  to  wait  at  his  mercy-seat.  It  is 
good  for  us  to  draw  nigh  to  him.  It  is  an 
honour  that  he  permits  us  to  pray ;  and  we 
shall  surely  find  he  is  a  prayer-hearing  God. 
Endeavour  to  be  diligent  in  the  means ;  yet 
watch  and  strive  against  a  legal  spirit,  which 
is  always  aiming  to  represent  him  as  a  hard 
master,  watching  as  it  were  to  take  advantage 
of  us.  But  it  is  far  otherwise.  His  name  is 
Love ;  he  looks  upon  us  with  compassion ; 
he  knows  our  frame,  and  remembers  that  we 
are  but  dust ;  and  when  our  infirmities  pre- 
vail, he  does  not  bid  us  despond,  but  reminds 
us  that  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 
who  is  able  to  pity,  to  pardon,  and  to  save  to 
the  uttermost.  Think  of  the  names  and  re- 
lations he  bears.  Does  he  not  call  himself  a 
Saviour,  a  shepherd,  a  friend,  and  a  husband  ] 
Has  he  not  made  known  unto  us  his  love,  his 
blood,  his  righteousness,  his  promises,  his 
power,  and  his  grace,  and  all  for  our  encour- 
agement] Away,  then,  with  all  doubting, 
unbelieving  thoughts ;  they  will  not  only  dis- 
tress your  heart,  but  weaken  your  hands. 
Take  it  for  granted,  upon  the  warrant  of  his 
word,  that  you  are  his  and  he  is  yours ;  that 
he  has  loved  you  with  an  everlasting  love,  and 
therefore  in  loving-kindness  has  drawn  you 
to  himself;  that  he  will  surely  accomplish 
that  which  he  has  begun,  and  that  nothing 
which  can  be  named  or  thought  of  shall  ever 
be  able  to  separate  you  from  him.  This 
persuELsion  will  give  you  strength  for  the 
battle ;  this  is  the  shield  which  will  quench  the 
fiery  darts  of  Satan ;  this  is  the  helmet  which 
the  enemy  cannot  pierce.  Whereas,  if  we 
go  forth  doubting  and  fearing,  and  are  afraid 
to  trust  any  farther  than  we  can  feel,  we  are 
weak  as  water,  and  easily  overcome.  Be 
strong,  therefore,  not  in  yourself,  but  in  the 
grace  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  Pray  for  me, 
and  believe  me  to  be, — Yours,  &,c. 


LETTER  III. 


March  14, 

I  THINK  you  would  hardly  expect  me  to 
write  if  you  knew  how  I  am  forced  to  live  in 
London.  However,  I  would  have  you  believe 
I  am  as  willing  to  write  to  you  as  you  are  to 
receive  my  letters.  As  a  proof,  I  try  to  smd 
you  a  few  lines  new,  though  I  am  writing  to 

you  and  talking  to  Mrs. both  at  once; 

and  this  is  the  only  season  I  can  have  to 
change  a  few  words  with  her.  She  is  a 
woman  of  a  sorrowful  spirit;  she  talks  and 
weeps.  I  believe  she  would  think  herself 
happy  to  be  situated  as  you  are,  notwith- 
standing the  many  advantages  she  has  at 
London.  I  see  daily,  and  I  hope  you  have 
likewise  learned,  that  places  and  outward 
circumstances  cannot  of  themselves  either 
hinder  or  help  us  in  walking  with  God.  So 
far  as  he  is  pleased  to  be  with  us,  and  teach 
us  by  his  Spirit,  wherever  we  are  we  shall 
get  forward  ;  and  if  he  does  not  bless  us  and 
water  us  every  moment,  the  more  we  have 
of  our  own  wishes  and  wills,  the  more  uneasy 
we  shall  make  ourselves. 

One  thing  isneedful ;  an  humble,  dependent 
spirit,  to  renounce  our  own  wills,  and  give 
up  ourselves  to  his  disposal  without  reserve. 
This  is  the  path  of  peace,  and  it  is  the  path 
of  safety ;  for  he  has  said.  The  meek  he  wfA 
teach  his  way,  and  those  who  yield  up  them- 
selves to  him  he  will  guide  with  his  eye.  I 
hope  you  will  fight  and  pray  against  every 
rising  of  a  murmuring  spirit,  and  be  thankful 
for  the  great  things  which  he  has  already 
done  for  you.  It  is  good  to  be  humbled  for 
sin,  but  not  to  be  discouraged  ;  for  though, 
we  are  poor  creatures,  Jesus  is  a  complete 
Saviour;  and  we  bring  more  honour  to  God, 
by  believing  in  his  name,  and  trusting  his 
word  of  promise,  than  we  could  do  by  a 
thousand  outward  works. 

I  pray  the  Lord  to  shine  upon  your  soul, 
and  to  fill  you  wnth  all  joy  and  peace  in  be- 
lieving. Remember  to  pray  for  us,  that  we 
may  be  brought  home  to  you  in  peace. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

London,  August  19,  1775. 
You  see  I  am  mindful  of  my  promise,  and 
glad  should. I  be  to  write  something  that  the 
Lord  may  be  pleased  to  make  a  word  in  sea- 
son. I  went  yesterday  into  the  pulpit  very 
dry  and  heartless.  I  seemed  to  have  fixed 
upon  a  text ;  but  when  I  came  to  the  pinch,  it 
was  so  shut  up  that  I  could  not  preach  from 
it.  I  had  hardly  a  minute  to  choose,  and 
therefore  was  forced  to  snatch  at  that  which 
came  first  upon  my  mind,  which  proved  2 
Tim.  i.  12.     Thus  I  set  off  at  a  venture^ 


LET.  v.] 


LKTTKIIS  'i'O 


345 


having-  no  rrsouroc  hut  in  tlio  Lonl's  mercy 
and  liuthruliu'ss;  nnd,  imlcfd,  wlifit  otlirr  ran 
we  wish  fur!  I'rescjitly  my  Hubjcct  oimmmmI, 
and  I  know  not  when  1  have  been  favoured 
with  more  lilnTty.  Why  do  I  tell  you  this  ! 
Only  JLs  an  iiistunee  of  his  rrtxHiness,  to  en- 
couniije  you  to  put  your  stren<jth  in  him,  and 
not  to  be  afraid,  even  wlien  you  I'eel  your 
own  weakness  and  insutficicncy  most  sensibly. 
We  are  never  more  safe,  never  have  more 
reason  to  expect  the  Lord's  iudp,  than  when 
we  are  most  sensible  that  we  can  do  nothinff 
without  him.  This  was  the  lesson  Paul 
learned,  to  rejoice  in  his  own  poverty  and 
emptiness,  that  the  power  of  Christ  mi<^ht  rest 
upon  him.  Could  Vau\  have  done  any  thing-, 
Jesus  would  not  have  had  the  honour  of  doinj^ 
all.  This  way  of  beintr  saved  entirely  by 
gmce,  from  tirst  to  last,  is  contrary  to  our 
natural  wills;  it  mortifies  self,  leaving-  it 
nothing"  to  boast  of,  and  through  the  remains 
of  an  unbelieving-,  le^al  spirit,  it  often  seems 
discourag-ing-.  When  we  think  ourselves  so 
utterly  helpless  and  worthless,  we  are  too 
ready  to  fear  that  the  Lord  will  tlierefore 
reject  us;  whereas,  in  truth,  such  a  poverty 
of  spirit  is  the  best  mark  we  can  have  of  an 
interest  in  his  promises  and  care. 

How  often  have  I  longed  to  be  an  instru- 
ment of  establishing'  you  in  the  peace  and 
hope  of  the  gospel !  and  I  have  but  one  way 
of  attempting  it,  by  telling  you  over  and  over 
of  the  power  and  grace  of  Jesus.  You  want 
nothing  to  make  you  happy,  but  to  liave  the 
eyes  of  your  understanding  more  fixed  upon 
the  Redeemer,  and  more  enlightened  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  behold  his  glory.  O  !  he  is  a 
suitable  Saviour  !  He  has  power,  authority, 
and  compassion,  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  lie 
has  given  his  word  of  promise  to  engage  our 
confidence,  and  he  is  able  and  faithful  to 
make  good  the  expectations  and  desires  he 
has  raised  in  us.  Put  your  trust  in  him;  be- 
lieve, as  we  say,  through  thick  and  thin,  in 
defiance  of  all  objections  from  within  and 
without.  For  this  Abraham  is  recommended 
as  a  pattern  to  us.  He  overlooked  all  diffi- 
culties, he  ventured  and  hoped  even  against 
hope,  in  a  case  which,  to  appearance,  w-as 
desperate  ;  because  he  knew  that  he  who  had 
promised  was  able  to  perform. 

Your  sister  is  much  upon  my  mind ;  her 
illness  grieves  me;  were  it  in  my  power,  I 
would  quickly  remove  it.  The  Lord  can,  and 
I  hope  he  will,  when  it  has  answered  the  end 
for  which  he  sent  it.  I  trust  he  has  brought 
her  to  us  for  good,  and  that  she  is  chastised 
by  him,  that  she  may  not  be  condemned  with 
the  world.  I  hope,  though  she  says  little, 
she  lifts  up  her  heart  to  him  for  a  blessing. 
I  wish  you  may  be  enabled  to  leave  her  and 
yourself,  and  all  your  concerns,  in  his  hands. 
He  has  a  sovereign  right  to  do  with  us  as  he 
pleases;  and  if  we  consider  what  we  are, 
Burely  we  shall  confess  we  have  no  reason  to 
2  X 


complain;  nnd  to  those  wlio  Hcrfc  Jniii,  his 
sovcrrignty  in  e.xercisi'd  in  a  way  of  (rraco. 
All  Khali  work  together  for  gixnl ;  mrry  thing" 
is  mw'dful  that  he  Hen<ls;  nothing  can  bo 
needful  that  ho  withholdK.  IJo  content  to 
bear  the  cross;  others  have  lujrne  it  before 
you.  Vou  have  need  of  patience  ;  utidifyou 
ask,  the  Ixird  will  give  it;  biit  there  can  bo 
no  settled  peace  till  our  will  is  in  a  nu-awuro 
sidHlued.  Hide  yourself  under  tlio  shadow 
of  his  wings  ;  rely  u\n)U  his  care  and  fwwcr ; 
look  upon  him  as  a  physician  who  has  gra- 
ciously undertaken  to  heal  your  soul  of  the 
worst  of  sickness,  sin.  Yield  to  his  pre- 
scriptions, and  fight  against  every  thought 
that  would  represent  it  as  desirable  to  be 
permitted  to  choose  for  yourself  When  you 
cannot  see  your  way,  be  satisfied  that  he  is 
your  leader.  When  your  spirit  is  over- 
whelmed within  you,  he  knows  your  path ; 
he  will  not  leave  you  to  sink.  He  lias  ap- 
pointed seasons  of  refreshment,  and  you  shall 
find  he  does  not  forget  you.  Above  all,  keep 
close  to  the  throne  of  grace.  If  we  seem  to 
get  no  gootl  by  attempting  to  draw  near  him, 
we  may  be  sure  we  shall  get  none  by  keeping 
away  from  him. — I  am,  &ic. 


LETTER  V. 

I  PROMISED  you  another  letter,  and  now 
for  the  performance.  If  I  had  said,  it  may 
be,  or,  perhaps  I  will,  you  would  be  in  sus- 
pense ;  but  if  I  promise,  then  you  expect 
that  I  will  not  disappoint  you,  unless  some- 
thing should  render  it  impossible  for  me  to 
make  my  word  good.  I  thank  you  for  your 
good  opinion  of  me,  and  for  thinking  I  mean 
what  I  say;  and  I  pray  that  you  may  be  en- 
abled more  and  more  to  honour  the  Lord,  by 
believing  his  promise ;  for  he  is  not  a  man 
that  he  should  fail  or  change,  or  be  prevented 
by  any  thing  unforeseen  from  doing  what  he 
has  said.  And  yet  we  find  it  easier  to  trust 
to  worms  than  to  the  God  of  truth.  Is  it  not 
so  with  you  ?  And  I  can  assure  you  it  is 
often  so  with  me.  But  here  is  the  mercy, 
that  his  ways  are  above  ours,  as  the  heavens 
arc  higher  than  the  earth.  Though  we  are 
foolish  and  unbelieving,  he  remains  faithful ; 
he  will  not  deny  himself  I  recommend  to 
you  especially  that  promise  of  God,  which  is 
so  comprehensive,  that  it  takes  in  all  our 
concernments,  I  mean,  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  gootl.  How  hard  is  it  to 
believe,  that  not  only  those  things  which  are 
grievous  to  the  flesii,  but  even  those  things 
which  draw  forth  our  corruptions,  and  discover 
to  us  what  is  in  our  hearts,  and  fill  us  with 
guilt  and  shame,  should  in  the  issue  work  for 
our  good !  Yet  the  Lord  has  said  it.  All 
your  pains  and  trials,  all  that  befals  you  in 
your  own  person,  or  that  affects  you  upon  the 


546 


LETTERS  TO 


[let.  VII. 


account  of  others,  shall  in  the  end  prove  to 
j'our  advantage.  And  your  peace  does  not 
depend  upon  any  change  of  circumstances 
which  may  appear  desirable,  but  in  having 
your  will  bowed  to  the  Lord's  will,  and  made 
willing  to  submit  all  to  his  disposal  and 
management.  Pray  for  this,  and  wait  patiently 
for  him,  and  he  will  do  it.  Be  not  surprised 
to  find  yourself  poor,  helpless,  and  vile ;  all 
whom  he  favours  and  teaches  will  find  them- 
selves so.  The  more  grace  increases,  the 
more  we  shall  see  to  abase  us  in  our  own 
eyes;  and  this  will  make  the  Saviour  and 
his  salvation  more  precious  to  us.  He  takes 
his  own  wise  methods  to  humble  you,  and  to 
prove  you,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  do  you  good 
in  the  end. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VL 

September  16,  1775. 
When  you  receive  this,  I  hope  it  will  give 
you  pleasure  to  think,  that  if  the  Lord  be 
pleased  to  favour  us  with  health,  we  shall  all 
meet  again  in  a  few  days.  I  have  met  with 
much  kindness  at  London,  and  many  com- 
forts and  mercies ;  however,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  return  home.  There  my  heart  lives,  let 
my  body  be  where  it  will.  I  long  to  see  all 
my  dear  people,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you.  I  steal  a  little  time  to  write  another 
line  or  two,  more  to  satisfy  you,  than  for  any 
thing  particular  I  have  to  say.  I  thank  you 
for  your  letter.  I  doubt  not  but  the  Lord  is 
bringing  you  forward,  and  that  you  have  a 
good  right  to  say  to  your  soul.  Why  art  thou 
cast  down  and  disquieted  1  Hope  thou  in 
God ;  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him.  An  evil 
heart,  an  evil  temper,  and  the  many  crosses 
we  meet  with  in  passing  through  an  evil 
world,  will  cut  us  out  trouble :  but  the  Lord 
has  provided  a  balm  for  every  wound,  a  cor- 
dial for  every  care ;  the  fruit  of  all  is  to  take 
away  sin,  and  the  end  of  all  will  be  eternal 
life  in  glory.  Think  of  these  words,  put 
them  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary ;  and 
then  throw  all  your  trials  into  the  opposite 
scale,  and  you  will  find  there  is  no  propor- 
tion between  them.  Say  then,  "  Though  he 
slay  me,  I  will  trust  in  him ;"  for  when  he 
has  fully  tried  me,  I  shall  come  forth  like 
gold.  You  would  have  liked  to  have  been 
with  me  last  Wednesday.  I  preached  at 
Westminster  bridewell.  It  is  a  prison  and 
house  of  correction.  The  bulk  of  my  con- 
gregation were  housebreakers,  highwaymen, 
pickpockets,  and  poor  unhappy  women,  such 
as  infest  the  streets  of  this  city,  sunk  in  sin, 
and  lost  to  shame.  I  had  a  hundred  or  more 
of  these  before  me.  I  preached  from  1  Tim. 
i.  15,  and  began  with  telling  them  my  own 
fitory :  this  gained  their  attention  more  than  I 


expected.  I  spoke  to  them  near  an  hour  and 
a  half  I  shed  many  tears  myself,  and  saw 
some  of  them  shed  tears  likewise.  Ah  !  had 
you  seen  their  present  condition,  and  could 
you  hear  the  history  of  some  of  them,  it 
would  make  you  sing, 

O  to  grace  how  great  a  debtor ! 

By  nature  they  were  no  worse  than  the  most 
sober  and  modest  people.  And  there  was 
doubtless  a  time  when  many  of  them  little 
thought  what  they  should  live  to  do  and  suf- 
fer. I  might  have  been,  like  them,  in  chains, 
and  one  of  them  have  come  to  preach  to  me, 
had  the  Lord  so  pleased. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  Vn. 

Oct.  10,  1777. 

I  AM  just  come  from  seeing  A N . 

The  people  told  me  she  is  much  better  than 
she  was,  but  she  is  far  from  being  well.  She 
was  brought  to  me  into  a  parlour,  which  saved 
me  the  painful  task  of  going  to  inquire  and 
seek  for  her  among  the  patients.  My  spirits 
always  sink  when  I  am  within  those  mourn- 
ful walls,  and  I  think  no  money  could  prevail 
on  me  to  spend  an  hour  there  every  day.  Yet 
surely  no  sight  upon  earth  is  more  suited  to 
teach  one  thankfulness  and  resignation. 
Surely  I  have  reason,  in  my  worst  times,  to 
be  thankful  that  I  am  out  of  hell,  out  of  bed- 
lam, out  of  Newgate.  If  my  eyes  were  as 
bad  as  yours,  and  my  back  worse,  still  I  hope 
I  should  set  a  great  value  upon  this  mercy, 
that  my  senses  are  preserved.  I  hope  you 
will  think  so  too.  The  Lord  afflicts  us  at 
times;  but  it  is  always  a  thousand  times  less 
than  we  deserve,  and  much  less  than  many 
of  our  fellow-creatures  are  suffering  around 
us.  Let  us,  therefore,  pray  for  grace  to  be 
humble,  thankful,  and  patient. 

This  day  twelvemonth  I  was  under  Mr. 

W 's  knife;  there  is  another  cause  for 

thankfulness,  that  the  Lord  inclined  me  to 
submit  to  the  operation,  and  brought  me 
happily  through  it.  In  short,  I  have  so  many 
reasons  for  thankfulness,  that  I  cannot  count 
them.  I  may  truly  say,  they  are  more  in 
number  than  the  hair§  of  my  head.  And  yet, 
alas !  how  cold,  insensible,  and  ungrateful !  I 
could  make  as  many  complaints  as  you  ;  but 
I  find  no  good  by  complaining,  except  to  him 
who  is  able  to  help  me.  It  is  better  for  you 
and  me  to  be  admiring  the  compassion  and 
fulness  of  grace  that  is  in  our  Saviour,  than 
to  dwell  and  pore  too  much  upon  our  own 
poverty  and  vileness.  He  is  able  to  help  and 
save  to  the  uttermost :  there  I  desire  to  cast 
anchor,  and  wish  you  to  do  so  likewise. 
Hope  in  God,  for  you  shall  yet  praise  him.— 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTERS 

TO  MR.  C . 


LETTER  I. 

January  16,  1775. 
DEAR  SIR, — The  death  of  a  near  relative 
called  me  from  home  in  December,  and  a 
fortnight's  absence  threw  me  so  far  behind- 
hand in  my  course,  that  I  deferred  acknow- 
ledging your  letter  much  longer  than  I 
intended.  I  now  thank  you  for  it.  I  can 
sympathize  with  you  in  your  troubles ;  yet 
knowing  the  nature  of  our  calling,  that,  by  an 
unalterable  appointment,  the  way  to  the  king- 
dom lies  through  many  tribulations,  I  ought  to 
rejoice  rather  than  otherwise,  that  to  you 
it  is  given,  not  only  to  believe,  but  also  to 
Buffer.  If  you  escaped  these  things,  whereof 
all  the  Lord's  children  arc  partakers,  might 
you  not  question  your  adoption  into  his  fami- 
ly 1  How  could  the  power  of  grace  be  mani- 
fest, either  to  you,  in  you,  or  by  you,  without 
afflictions  ?  How  could  the  corruptions  and 
devastations  of  the  heart  be  checked  without 
a  cross  )  How  could  you  acquire  a  tender- 
ness and  skill  in  speaking  to  them  that  are 
weary,  without  a  taste  of  such  trials  as  they 
also  meet  with  ]  You  could  only  be  a  hear- 
say witness  to  the  truth,  power,  and  sweet- 
ness of  the  precious  promises,  unless  you 
have  been  in  such  a  situation  as  to  need 
them,  and  to  find  their  suitableness  and  suffi- 
ciency. The  Lord  has  given  you  a  good  de- 
sire to  serve  him  in  the  gospel,  and  he  is 
now  training  you  for  that  service.  Many 
things,  yea,  the  most  important  things  be- 
longing to  the  gospel-ministry,  are  not  to  be 
learned  by  books  and  study,  but  by  painful 
experience.  You  must  expect  a  variety  of 
exercises ;  but  two  things  he  has  promised 
you,  that  you  shall  not  be  tried  above  what 
he  will  enable  you  to  bear,  and  that  all  shall 
work  together  for  your  good.  We  read 
somewhere  of  a  conceited  orator,  who  de- 
claimed upon  the  management  of  war  in  the 
presence  of  Hannibal,  and  of  the  contempt 
with  which  Hannibal  treated  his  perform- 
ance. He  deserved  it;  for  how  should  a 
man  who  had  never  seen  a  field  of  battle  be 
a  competent  judge  of  such  a  subject?  Just 
so,  were  we  to  acquire  no  other  knowledge 
of  the  christian  warfare  than  what  we  could 
derive  from  cool  and  undisturbed  study,  in- 
itead  of  coming  forth  as  able  ministers  of  the 


New  Testament,  and  competently  acquaint- 
ed with  the  rx  »5,j««Ta,  with  the  devices,  the 
deep-laid  counsels  and  stratagems  of  Satan, 
we  should  prove  but  meredeclaimers.  But  the 
Ix)rd  will  take  better  care  of  those  whom  he 
loves  and  designs  to  honour.  He  will  try, 
and  permit  them  to  be  tried  in  various  ways. 
He  will  make  them  feel  much  in  themselves, 
that  they  may  know  how  to  feel  much  for 
others ;  according  to  that  beautiful  and  ex- 
pressive line, 

Haud  ignara  mall,  miseris  succurrero  disco. 

And  as  this  previous  discipline  is  necessary 
to  enable  us  to  take  the  field  in  a  public  ca- 
pacity with  courage,  wisdom,  and  success,  that 
we  may  lead  and  ani.Tiate  others  in  the  fight, 
it  is  equally  necessary,  for  our  own  sakes, 
that  we  may  obtain  and  preserve  the  grace 
of  humility,  which  I  perceive  with  pleasure 
he  has  taught  you  to  set  a  high  value  upon. 
Indeed  we  cannot  value  it  too  highly ;  for  we 
can  be  neither  comfortable,  safe,  nor  habit- 
ually useful  without  it.  The  root  of  pride 
lies  deep  in  our  fallen  nature,  and,  where  the 
Lord  has  given  natural  and  acquired  abilities, 
it  would  grow  apace  if  he  did  not  mercifully 
watch  over  us,  and  suit  his  dispensations  to 
keep  it  down.  Therefore  I  trust  he  will 
make  you  willing  to  endure  hardships,  as  a 
good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ.  May  he  enable 
you  to  behold  him  with  faith  holding  out  the 
prize,  and  saying  to  you.  Fear  none  of  these 
things  that  thou  shalt  suffer :  be  thou  faithful 
unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life. 

We  sail  upon  a  turbulent  and  tumultuous 
sea ;  but  we  are  embarked  on  a  good  bottom, 
and  in  a  good  cause,  and  we  have  an  infalli- 
ble and  almighty  pilot,  who  has  the  winds 
and  weather  at  his  command,  and  can  silence 
the  storm  into  a  calm  with  a  word  whenever 
he  pleases.  We  may  be  persecuted,  but  we 
shall  not  be  forsaken  :  we  may  be  cast  down, 
but  we  cannot  be  destroyed.  Many  will 
thrust  sore  at  us  that  we  may  fall,  but  the 
Lord  will  be  our  stay. 

I  am  sorry  to  find  you  are  quite  alone  at 
Cambridge,  for  I  hoped  there  would  be  a 
succession  of  serious  students  to  supply  the 
place  of  those  who  are  transplanted  to  shine 
as  lights  in  the  world.  Yet  vou  are  not  alone; 
347      ' 


348 


LETTERS  TO  MR.  C- 


for  the  Lord  is  with  you,  the  best  counsellor 
and  the  best  friend.  Tiiere  is  a  strange  back- 
wardness in  us,  at  least  in  me,  fully  to  im- 
prove that  gracious  intimacy  to  wiiich  he 
invites  us.  Alas !  that  we  so  easily  wander 
from  the  fountain  of  life  to  hew  out  cisterns 
for  ourselves,  and  that  we  seem  more  at- 
taclied  to  a  few  drops  of  his  grace  in  our 
fellow-creatures,  than  to  the  fulness  of  grace 
that  is  in  himself  I  think  nothing  gives  me 
a  more  striking  sense  of  my  depravity  than 
my  perverseness  and  folly  in  this  respect; 
yet  he  bears  with  me,  and  does  me  good  con- 
tinually.— I  am,  &.C. 


LETTER  n. 

March  — ,  1776. 
BEAR  SIR, — I  know  not  the  length  of  your 
college-terms,  but  hope  this  may  come  time 
enough  to  find  you  still  resident.  I  shall  not 
apologise  for  writing  no  sooner,  because  I 
leave  other  letters  of  much  longer  date  un- 
answered that  I  may  write  so  soon.  It  gave 
me  particular  pleasure  to  hear  that  the  Lord 
helped  you  through  your  difficulties,  and 
succeeded  your  desires.  And  I  have  sympa- 
thized with  you  in  the  complaints  you  make 
of  a  dark  and  mournful  frame  of  spirits  after- 
wards. But  is  not  this  upon  the  whole  right 
and  salutary,  that  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  at 
one  time  to  strengthen  us  remarkably  in  an- 
swer to  prayer,  he  should  leave  us  at  another 
time,  so  far  as  to  give  us  a  real  sensibility 
that  we  were  supported  by  his  power  and 
not  our  own  ]  Besides,  as  you  feel  a  danger 
of  being  elated  by  the  respect  paid  you,  was 
it  not  a  merciful  and  seasonable  dispensation 
that  made  you  feel  your  own  weakness,  to 
prevent  your  being  exalted  above  measure? 
The  Lord,  by  withdrawing  his  smiles  from 
you,  reminded  yon  that  the  smiles  of  men 
are  of  little  value,  otherwise  perhaps  you 
might  have  esteemed  them  too  highly.  In- 
deed you  scholars  that  know  the  Lord  are 
singular  instances  of  the  power  of  his  grace ; 
for  (like  the  young  men  in  Dan.  iii.)  you  live 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  fire.  Mathematical 
studies,  in  particular,  have  such  a  tendency 
to  engross  and  fix  the  mind  to  the  contem- 
plation of  cold  and  uninteresting  truth,  and 
you  are  surrounded  with  so  much  intoxicating 
applause  if  you  succeed  in  your  researches, 
that  for  a  soul  to  be  kept  humble  and  alive 
in  such  a  situation,  is  such  a  proof  of  the 
Lord's  presence  and  power  as  Moses  had 
when  he  saw  the  bush  unconsumed  in  the 
midst  of  the  flames.  I  believe  I  had  natu- 
rally a  turn  for  the  mathematics  myself,  and 
dabbled  in  them  a  little  way ;  and  thougli  I 
did  not  go  far,  my  head,  sleeping  and  waking, 
was  stuffed  with  diagrams  and  calculations. 
Every  thing  I  looked  at,  that  exhibited  either 
a  right  line  or  a  curve,  set  my  wits  a  wool- 


[lET.  III. 


gathering.  What,  then,  must  have  been  the 
case,  had  I  proceeded  to  the  interior  arcana 
of  speculative  geometry  ?  I  bought  my  name- 
sake's Princijna,  but  I  have  reason  to  be 
thankful  that  I  left  it  as  I  found  it,  a  sealed 
book,  and  that  the  bent  of  my  mind  was 
drawn  to  something  of  more  real  importance 
before  I  understood  it.  I  say  not  this  to  dis- 
courage you  in  your  pursuits;  they  lie  in 
your  line  and  path  of  duty,  in  mine  they  did 
not.  As  to  your  academics,  I  am  glad  that 
the  Lord  enables  you  to  show  those  among" 
whom  you  live,  that  the  knowledge  of  his 
gospel  does  not  despoil  you  either  of  dili- 
gence or  acumen.  However,  as  I  said,  you 
need  a  double  guard  of  grace,  to  preserve 
you  from  being  either  pufted  up  or  deadened 
by  those  things,  which,  considered  in  any 
other  view  than  quoad  hoc,  to  preserve  your 
rank  and  character  in  the  university  while 
you  remain  there,  are,  if  taken  in  the  aggre- 
gate, little  better  than  a  splendidum  nihil. 

If  my  poor  people  at could  form  the 

least  conception  of  what  the  learned  at  Cam- 
bridge chiefly  admire  in  each  other,  and 
what  is  the  intrinsic  reward  of  all  their  toil, 
they  would  say  (supposing  they  could  speak 
Latin,)  Quain  suave  istis  suavitatihus  ca- 
rere !  How  gladly  would  some  of  them,  if 
such  mathematical  and  metaphysical  lumber 
could  by  any  means  get  into  their  heads, 
how  gladly  would  they  drink  at  Lethe's 
stream  to  get  it  out  again  !  How  many  per- 
plexities are  they  freed  from  by  their  happy 
ignorance,  which  often  pester  those  to  their 
lives  end  who  have  had  their  natural  prone- 
ness  to  vain  reasoning  sharpened  by  acade- 
mical studies. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IIL 

3%  18,  1776 
DEAR  SIR, — Though  I  wished  to  hear  from 
you  sooner,  I  put  a  candid  interpretation  upon 
your  silence,  was  something  apprehensive  for 
your  health,  but  felt  no  disposition  to  anger. 
Let  your  correspondence  be  free  from  fetters. 
Write  when  you  please,  and  when  you  can : 
I  will  do  the  like.  Apologies  may  be  spared 
on  both  sides.  I  am  not  a  very  punctual  cor- 
respondent myself,  having  so  many  letters  ta 
write,  and  therefore,  have  no  right  to  stand 
upon  punctilios  with  you. 

I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  sorrow  for 
your  friend's  death.  Such  cases  are  very 
distressing!'  But  such  a  case  might  have 
been  our  own.  Let  us  pray  for  grace  to  be 
thankful  for  ourselves,  and  submit  every 
thing  in  humble  silence  to  the  sovereign 
Lord,  who  has  a  right  to  do  as  he  pleases 
with  his  own.  We  feel  what  happens  in  our 
own  little  connexions ;  but,  O  the  dreadfu 
mischief  of  sin !  Instances  of  this  kind  are 
as  frequent  as  the  hours,  the  minutes,  per- 


LET.  IV.] 


LETTERS  TO  MR.  C- 


3-10 


haps  the  moments  of  every  day  :  and  though 
wo  know  but  one  in  a  million,  the  houIs  of 
others  have  an  o«iuul  cupticity  for  end!»\s.s 
happiness  or  misery.  In  this  situation  the 
Lord  htis  honoured  us  with  a  call  to  warn 
our  fellow-siimers  of  tlifir  danjjer,  and  to  set 
before  tluMu  his  free  and  sure  salvation;  and 
if  he  is  pleased  to  make  us  instrumental  of 
Bnatchin<:f  but  one  as  a  brand  out  of  the  tire, 
it  is  a  service  of  more  im|xirtance  than  to  be 
the  means  of  preservinjT  a  whole  nation  from 
temporal  ruin.  I  conj^ratulate  you  U|)on 
your  admission  into  the  ministry,  and  pray 
him  to  favour  you  with  a  single  eye  to  his 
glory,  and  a  fresh  anointinir  of  his  Holy 
►Spirit,  that  you  may  come  forth  as  a  scribe 
I  well  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  his  king- 

dom, and  that  his  word  in  your  moutli  may 
abundantly  prosper. 

T  truly  pity  those  who  rise  early  and  take 
late  rest,  and  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness, 
with  no  higher  prize  and  prospect  in  view 
than  the  obtaining  of  academical  honours. 
Such  pursuits  will,  ere  long,  appear  (as  they 
really  are)  vain  as  the  sports  of  children. 
May  the  Lord  impress  them  with  a  noble 
ambition  of  living  to  and  for  him.  If  these 
adventurers,  who  are  labouring  for  pebbles 
under  the  semblance  of  goodly  pearls,  had  a 
discovery  of  the  pearl  of  great  price,  how 
quickly  and  gladly  would  they  lay  down 
their  admired  attainments,  and  become  fools 
that  they  might  be  truly  wise !  What  a 
snare  have  you  escaped  !  You  would  have 
been  poorly  content  with  the  name  of  a 
mathematician  or  a  poet,  and  looked  no  far- 
ther, had  not  he  visited  your  heart,  and  en- 
lightened you  by  his  grace.  Now  I  trust  you 
account  your  former  gain  but  loss,  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ 
the  Lord.  What  you  have  attained  in  a  way 
of  literature  will  be  useful  to  you  if  sancti- 
fied, and  chiefly  so  by  the  knowledge  you 
have  of  its  insutRciency  to  any  valuable  pur- 
pose, in  the  great  concerns  of  walking  with 
God,  and  winning  souls. 

lam  pleased  with  your  fears  lest  you  should 
not  be  understood  in  your  preaching.  Indeed, 
there  is  a  danger  of  it.  It  is  not  easy  for 
persons  of  quick  parts  duly  to  conceive  how 
amazingly  ignorant  and  slow  of  apprehension 
the  bulk  of  our  congregations  generally  are. 
When  our  own  ideas  are  clear,  and  our  ex- 
pressions proper,  we  are  ready  to  think  we 
have  sufficiently  explained  ourselves;  and 
yet,  perhaps,  nine  out  of  ten  (especially  of 
those  who  are  destitute  of  spiritual  light) 
know  little  more  of  what  we  say  than  if  we 
were  speaking  Greek.  A  degree  of  this  in- 
convenience is  always  mseparable  from  writ- 
ten discourses.  They  cast  our  thoughts  into 
a  style  which,  though  familiar  to  ourselves, 
is  too  remote  from  common  conversation  to 
be  comprehended  by  narrow  capacities ; 
which  is  one  chief  reason  of  the  preference 


I  give  (cctterii  partbun)  to  extempore 
preaching.  When  wo  read  to  the  people, 
they  think  themselves  iena  coneiTned  in 
what  is  otlered,  than  when  we  HjM'ak  to  them 
{X)int-blank.  It  set-ms  a  good  rule,  which  I 
have  met  with  somewhere,  and  which,  p«.T- 
haps,  I  have  mentioned  to  you,  to  fix  our 
eyes  u|X)n  some  one  of  the  auditory  wlunn  wo 
judge  of  the  least  capacity;  if  we  can  make 
him  understand,  we  may  hope  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  rest.  Let  those  who  seek  to  be 
admired  for  the  exactness  of  their  composi- 
tions, enjoy  the  poor  reward  they  aim  at.  It 
is  best  for  gospel-preachers  to  speak  plain 
language.  If  we  thus  singly  aim  at  the 
glory  of  our  Master  and  the  good  of  souls, 
we  may  hope  for  the  accompanying  power 
of  his  Spirit,  which  will  give  our  discourses 
a  weight  and  energy  that  Demosthenes  had 
no  conception  of 

I  can  give  you  no  information  of  a  curacy 
in  a  better  situation.  Cut  either  the  Lord 
will  provide  you  one,  or  I  trust  he  will  give 
you  usefulness,  and  a  competency  of  health 
and  spirits  where  you  are.  lie  who  caused 
Daniel  to  thrive  upon  pulse,  can  make  you 
strong  and  cheerful  even  in  the  Fens,  if  he 
sees  that  best  for  you.  All  things  obey  him, 
and  you  need  not  fear  but  he  will  enable  you 
for  whatever  service  he  has  appointed  you  to 
perform. 

This  letter  has  been  a  week  in  hand,  owing 
to  a  variety  of  interruptions  from  without, 
and  indispositions  within.  I  seem  to  while 
away  my  life,  and  shall  be  glad  to  be  saved 
upon  the  footing  of  the  thief  upon  the  cross, 
without  any  hope  or  plea  but  the  power  and 
grace  of  Jesus,  who  has  said,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out.     Adieu. — Pray  for  yours,  &.c. 


LETTER  IV. 

September  10,  1777. 
DEAR  SIR, — I  was  glad  to  hear  from  you 
at  last,  not  being  willing  to  think  myself  for- 
gotten. I  supposed  you  were  ill.  It  seems, 
by  your  account,  that  you  are  far  from  being 
well;  but  I  hope  you  are  as  well  as  you 
ought  to  be,  that  is,  as  well  as  the  Lord  sees 
it  good  for  you  to  be.  I  say,  I  hope  so ;  for  I 
am  not  sure  that  the  length  and  vehemence 
of  your  sermons,  w^hich  you  tell  me  astonish 
many  people,  may  not  be  rather  improper 
and  imprudent,  considering  the  weakness  of 
your  constitution  ;  at  least,  if  this  expression 
of  your's  be  justly  expounded  by  a  report 
which  has  reached  me,  that  the  length  of 
your  sermons  is  frequently  two  hours,  and 
the  vehemence  of  your  voice  so  great,  that 
you  may  be  heard  far  beyond  the  church- 
walls.  Unwilling  should  I  be  to  damp  your 
zeal;  but  I  feel  unwilling  likewise,  that  by 
excessive,  unnecessary  exertions,  you  should 
wear  away  at  once,  and  preclude  your  owa 


350 


LETTERS  TO  MR,  C- 


usefulness.  This  concern  is  so  mucli  upon 
my  mind,  that  I  beg-in  with  it,  though  it 
makes  me  skip  over  the  former  part  of  your 
letter;  but  when  I  have  relieved  myself  upon 
this  point,  I  can  easily  skip  back  agrain.  I 
am  perhaps  the  more  ready  to  credit  the  re- 
port, because  I  know  tlie  spirits  of  you  nerv- 
ous people  are  highly  volatile.  I  consider 
you  as  mounted  upon  a  fiery  steed ;  and  pro- 
vided you  use  due  management  and  circum- 
spection, you  travel  more  pleasantly  than  we 
plodding  folks  upon  our  sober,  phlegmatic 
nags:  but  then,  if,  instead  of  pulling  the  rein 
you  plunge  in  the  spurs,  and  add  wings  to  the 
wind,  I  cannot  but  be  in  pain  for  the  conse- 
quences. Permit  me  to  remind  you  of  the 
Terentian  adage,  Xe  quid  ni/nis.  The  end  of 
speaking  is  to  be  heard,  and  if  the  person 
farthest  from  the  preacher  can  hear,  he  speaks 
loud  enough.  Upon  some  occasions,  a  few 
sentences  of  a  discourse  may  be  enforced  with 
a  tone  of  voice  still  more  elevated;  but  to  be 
uncommonly  loud  from  beginning  to  end,  is 
hurtful  to  the  speaker,  and,  I  apprehend,  no 
way  useful  to  the  hearer.  It  is  a  fault  which 
many  inadvertently  give  into  at  first,  and 
which  many  have  repented  of  too  late;  when 
practice  has  rendered  it  habitual  it  is  not  easi- 
ly corrected.  I  know  some  think,  that  preach- 
ing very  loudly,  and  preaching  with  power, 
are  synonymous  expressions,  but  your  judg- 
ment is  too  good  to  fall  in  with  that  prejudice. 
If  I  were  a  good  Grecian,  I  would  send  you  a 
quotation  from  Homer,  where  he  describes 
the  eloquence  of  Nestor,  and  compares  it,  if  I 
remember  right,  not  to  a  thunder-storm  or  a 
hurricane,  but  to  a  fall  of  snow,  which,  though 
pressing,  insinuating,  and  penetrating,  is  soft 
and  gentle.  You  know  the  passage ;  I  think 
the  simile  is  beautiful  and  expressive. 

Secondly  (as  we  say,)  as  to  long  preaching, 
there  is  still  in  being  an  old-fashioned  instru- 
ment, called  an  hour-glass,  which,  in  days  of 
yore,  before  clocks  and  watches  abounded, 
used  to  be  the  measure  of  many  a  good  sermon, 
and  I  think  it  a  tolerable  stint.  I  cannot  wind 
up  my  ends  to  my  own  satisfaction  in  a  much 
shorter  time,  nor  am  I  pleased  with  myself  if 
I  greatly  exceed  it.  If  an  angel  was  to  preach 
for  two  hours,  unless  his  hearers  were  angels 
likewise,  I  believe  the  greater  part  of  them 
would  wish  he  had  done.  It  is  a  shame  it 
should  be  so ;  but  so  it  is,  partly  through  the 
weakness,  and  partly  through  the  wickedness 
of  the  flesh,  we  can  seldom  stretch  our  atten- 
tion to  spiritual  things  for  two  hours  together 
without  cracking  it,  and  hurting  its  spring; 
and  when  weariness  begins,  edification  ends. 
Perhaps  it  is  better  to  feed  our  people  like 
chickens,  a  little  and  often,  than  to  cram 
them  like  turkeys,  till  they  cannot  hold  one 
gobbet  more.  Besides,  over-long  sermons 
break  in  upon  family  concerns,  and  often  call 
off  the  thoughts  from  the  sermon  to  the  pud- 
ding at  home,  which  is  in  danger  of  being 


[let.  it, 

over-boiled.  They  leave  likewise  but  little 
time  for  secret  or  family  religion,  which  are 
both  ver\'  good  in  their  place,  and  are  entitled 
to  a  share  in  the  Lord's  day.  Upon  the 
preacher  they  must  have  a  bad  effect,  and 
tend  to  wear  him  down  before  his  time :  and 
I  have  known  some,  by  over-acting  at  first, 
have  been  constrained  to  sit  still  and  do  little 
or  nothing  for  months  or  years  afterwards.  I 
rather  recommend  to  you  the  advice  of  your 
brother  Cantab,  Hobson  the  carrier,  so  to  set 
out  as  that  you  may  hold  out  to  your  jour- 
ney's end. 

Now,  if  Fame,  with  her  hundred  mouths, 
has  brought  me  a  false  report  of  you,  and 
you  are  not  guilty  of  preaching  either  too 
long  or  too  loud,  still  I  am  not  willing  my 
remonstrance  may  stand  for  nothing.  I  de- 
sire you  will  accept  it,  and  thank  me  for  it, 
as  a  proof  of  my  love  to  you,  and  likewise  of 
the  sincerity  of  my  friendship;  for  if  I  had 
wished  to  flatter  you,  I  could  easily  have 
called  another  subject. 

I  have  one  more  report  to  trouble  you  with, 
because  it  troubles  me;  and  therefore  you 
must  bear  a  part  of  my  burden.  Assure  rae  it 
is  false,  and  I  will  send  you  one  of  the  hand- 
somest letters  I  can  devise  by  way  of  thanks. 
It  is  reported,  then,  (but  I  will  not  believe  it 
till  you  say  I  must,)  that  you  stand  upon  your 
tiptoes,  upon  the  point  of  being  whirled  out 
of  our  vortex,  and  hurried  away,  comet-like, 
into  the  regions  of  eccentricity ;  in  plain  Eng- 
lish, that  you  have  a  hankering  to  be  an  itine- 
rant. If  this  be  true,  I  will  not  be  the  first 
to  tell  it  in  St.  John's  College,  or  to  publish  it 
on  the  banks  of  Cam,  lest  the  mathematicians 
rejoice,  and  the  poets  triumph.  But,  to  be 
serious,  for  it  is  a  serious  subject,  let  me  beg 
you  to  deliberate  well,  and  to  pray  earnestly 
"before  you  take  this  step.  Be  afraid  of  acting 
in  your  own  spirit,  or  under  a  wrong  impres- 
sion; however  honestly  you  mean,  you  may 
be  mistaken.  The  Lord  has  given  you  a  little 
charge ;  be  faithful  in  it,  and  in  his  good  time 
he  will  advance  you  to  a  greater :  but  let  his 
providence  evidently  open  the  door  for  you, 
and  be  afraid  of  moving  one  step  before  the 
cloud  and  pillar.  I  have  had  my  warm  fits 
and  desires  of  this  sort  in  my  time ;  but  I 
have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  I  was  held 
in  with  a  strong  hand.  I  wish  there  were 
more  itinerant  preachers.  If  a  man  has  grace 
and  zeal,  and  but  little  fund,  let  him  go  and 
diffuse  the  substance  of  a  dozen  sermons  over 
as  many  counties ;  but  you  have  natural  and 
acquired  abilities,  which  qualify  you  for  the 
more  difficult,  and,  in  my  judgment  not  less 
important  station  of  a  parochial  minister.  I 
wish  you  to  be  a  burning,  shining,  steady  light 
You  may  perhaps  have  less  popularity,  that 
is,  vou  will  be  less  exposed  to  workings  of 
self  and  the  snares  of  Satan,  if  you  stay  with 
us:  but  I  think  you  may  live  in  the  full  ex- 
ercise of  your  gifts  and  graces,  be  more  con- 


LET.  ▼.] 


LKTTKRS  TO  MR.  C- 


351 


sistcnit  with  your  voluntary  on^niromonts, 
and  have  more  juvxcr  of  iiiiiid,  niul  lmmhl»' 
iiUorcoiirso  with  (nnl,  in  wiitchin<j  over  ii 
fliH'k  which  ho  has  conitniltod  to  you,  than, 
hy  forsakini:  thoni,  to  wander  tip  and  down 
the  earth  with(Mit  a  determined  scope. 

Thus  far  I  have  been  more  attentive  to  the 
utile  than  the  dulct'.  I  should  now  return  to 
join  you  in  celebnitinj;  the  i)raises  ot' poetry, 
and  the  other  suhjt^cts  of  your  letter;  but 
tinit^  and  paper  fail  tojjether.  Let  mo  hear 
from  you  stH)n,  or  I  shall  fear  I  have  displeas- 
ed you,  which,  fond  as  I  am  of  |xietry,  would 
{•ive  me  more  [win  than  I  ever  found  pletusurc 
in  readin<r  Alexander's  Feast.  Indeed  I  love 
you ;  I  otlen  measure  over  the  walks  we 
have  taken  together;  and  when  I  come  to  a 
favourite  stile,  or  such  a  favourite  spot  upon 
the  hill-top,  I  am  reminded  of  somethings  that 
passed,  and  say,  or  at  least  think,  Hie  stctit 
C — I  am,  &ic. 


LETTER  V. 

DEAR  SIR, — By  your  flyinof  letter  from 
London,  as  well  as  by  your  more  particular 
answer  to  my  last,  I  judge  that  what  I 
formerly  wrote  will  answer  no  other  end 
than  to  be  a  testimony  of  my  fidelity  and 
friendship.  I  am  ready  to  think  you  were  so 
far  determined  before  you  applied  to  the 
Bishop,  as  to  be  rather  pleased  than  disap- 
pointed by  a  refusal  which  seemed  to  afford 
you  liberty  to  preach  at  large.  As  your 
testimonium  was  not  countersigned,  the  con- 
sequence was  no  other  than  might  have  been 
expected ;  yet  I  have  been  told  (how  true  I 
know  not,)  that  the  Bishop  would  have  passed 
over  the  informality,  if  you  had  not,  unasked 
by  him,  avowed  yourself  a  Methodist.  I 
think,  if  you  had  been  unwilling  to  throw 
hinderances  in  your  own  way,  the  most  perfect 
simplicity  would  have  required  no  more  of 
you  than  to  have  given  a  plain  and  honest 
answer  to  such  questions  as  he  might  think 
proper  to  propose.     You  might  have  assisted 

Mr. for  a  season  without  being  in  full 

orders;  and  you  may  still,  if  you  are  not  re- 
solved at  all  events  "to  push  out.  He  wrote 
to  me  about  you,  and  you  may  easily  judge 
what  answer  I  gave.  I  have  heard  from  him 
a  second  time,  and  he  laments  that  he  cannot 
have  you.  I  likewise  lament  that  you  cannot 
be  with  him.  I  think  you  would  have  loved 
him ;  and  I  hoped  his  acquaintance  might 
not  have  proved  unuseful  to  you. 

If  you  have  not  actually  passed  the  Rubi- 
con;  if  there  be  yet  room  for  deliberation,  I 
once  more  intreat  you  to  pause  and  consider. 
In  many  respects  I  ought  to  be  willing  to 
learn  from  you  ;  but  in  one  point  I  have  a 
little  advantage  of  you :  I  am  some  years 
older,  both  in  life  and  in  profession ;  and  in 


this  difference  of  time  [K'rhnpH  I  hnve  learned 
sonK'thing  more  of  the  heart,  th*'  world,  and 
the  devices  of  Satun,  than  you  have  had  an 
opportunity  for.  I  hope  I  would  not  damp 
your  Zi'al,  but  I  will  pray  the  I/ord  to  <lirect 
it  into  the  best  channel  for  permanent  uso 
fulness.  I  say  permanent :  I  doubt  not  that 
you  would  be  useful  in  the  itinerant  way; 
i)ut  I  more  and  more  observe  great  incon- 
veniences follow  in  that  way.  Where  you 
make  a  gathering  of  people,  others  will 
follow  you;  and  if  they  all  posses.sed  your 
spirit,  and  had  your  disinterested  views  it 
might  be  well.  But  generally  an  able 
preacher  only  so  far  awakens  people  to  a 
desire  to  hear,  as  exposes  them  to  the  incur- 
sions of  various  winds  of  doctrine  and  the 
attempts  of  injudicious  pretenders,  who  will 
resemble  you  in  nothing  but  your  eagerness 
to  post  from  place  to  place.  From  such 
measures  in  time  proceed  errors,  parties,  con- 
tentions, offences,  enthusiasm,  spiritual  pride, 
and  a  noisy  ostentatious  form  of  godliness, 
but  little  of  that  power  and  life  of  faith  which 
shows  itself  by  humility,  meekness,  and  love. 

A  parochial  minister,  who  lives  among  his 
people,  who  sees  and  converses  with  them 
frequently,  and  exemplifies  his  doctrine  in 
their  view  by  his  practice,  having  knowledge 
of  their  states,  trials,  growth,  and  dangers, 
suits  himself  to  their  various  occasions,  and, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  builds  them  up,  and 
brings  them  forward  in  faith  and  holiness. 
lie  is  instrumental  in  forming  their  ex- 
perience ;  he  leads  them  to  a  solid,  orderly, 
and  scriptural  knowledge  of  divine  things. 
If  his  name  is  not  in  so  many  mouths  as  that 
of  the  itinerant,  it  is  upon  the  hearts  of  the 
people  of  his  charge.  He  lives  with  them 
as  a  father  with  his  children.  His  steady 
consistent  behaviour  silences  in  some  measure 
the  clamours  of  his  enemies;  and  the  Lord 
opens  him  doors  of  occasional  usefulness  in 
many  places,  without  provoking  our  superiors 
to  discountenance  other  young  men  who  are 
seeking  orders. 

I  now  wish  I  had  taken  larger  paper,  for  I 
have  not  room  for  all  1  would  say.  I  have 
no  end  to  serve.  I  am  of  no  party.  I  wish 
well  to  irregulars  and  itinerants  who  love 
and  preach  the  gospel.  I  am  content  that 
they  should  labour  that  way,  who  have  not 
talents  nor  fund  to  support  the  character  and 
fill  up  the  office  of  a  parochial  minister.  But 
I  think  you  are  qualified  for  more  important 
service.  If  you  had  patient  faith  to  wait  a 
while  for  the  Lord's  opening,  I  doubt  not  but 
you  might  yet  obtain  Priest's  orders.  We 
are  hasty  like  children;  but  God  often  ap- 
points us  a  waiting  time.  Perhaps  it  requires 
as  much  or  more  grace  to  wait  than  to  be 
active;  for  it  is  more  trying  to  self  After 
all,  whatever  course  you  take,  I  shall  love 
you,  pray  for  you,  and  be  glad  to  see  you. — I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTERS 


TO  MRS. 


LETTER  I. 

July  — ,  1764. 

MY  DEAR  MADAM, — The  compkints  you 
make  are  inseparable  from  a  spiritual  ac- 
quaintance with  our  own  hearts  :  I  would  not 
wish  you  to  be  less  affected  with  a  sense  of 
indwelling'  sin.  It  becomes  us  to  be  humbled 
unto  the  dust ;  yet  our  grief,  though  it  cannot 
be  too  great,  may  be  under  a  wTong  direction ; 
and  if  it  leads  us  to  impatience  or  distrust,  it 
certainly  is  so. 

Sin  is  the  sickness  of  the  soul,  in  itself 
mortal  and  incurable,  as  to  any  power  in  hea- 
ven or  earth  but  that  of  the  Lord  Jesus  only. 
But  he  is  the  great,  the  infallible  Physician: 
Have  we  the  privilege  to  know  his  name  .' 
Have  we  been  enabled  to  put  ourselves  into 
his  hand  ?  We  have  then  no  more  to  do  but  to 
attend  to  his  prescriptions,  to  be  satisfied  with 
his  methods,  and  to  wait  his  time.  It  is  law- 
ful to  wish  we  were  well ;  it  is  natural  to 
g-roan,  being  burdened  ;  but  still  he  must  and 
will  take  his  own  course  with  us ;  and,  how- 
ever dissatisfied  with  ourselves,  we  ouglit  still 
to  be  thankful  that  he  has  begun  his  work  m 
us,  and  to  believe  that  he  will  also  make  an 
end.  Therefore,  while  we  mourn,  we  sliould 
likewise  rejoice;  we  should  encourage  our- 
selves to  expect  all  that  he  has  promised ;  and 
we  should  Umit  our  expectations  by  his  pro- 
mises. We  are  sure  that  when  the  Lord  de- 
livers us  from  the  guilt  and  dominion  of  sin, 
he  could  with  equal  ease  free  us  entirely  from 
sin  if  he  pleased.  The  doctrine  of  sinless  per- 
fection is  not  to  be  rejected,  as  though  it  were 
a  thing  simply  impossible  in  itself,  for  no- 
thing is  too  hard  for  the  Lord,  but  because  it 
is  contrary  to  that  method  which  he  has  chosen 
to  proceed  by.  He  has  appointed  that  sancti-  j 
fication  should  be  effected,  and  sin  mortified, 
not  at  once  completely,  but  by  little  and 
little ;  and  doubtless  he  has  wise  reasons  for  i 
it.  Therefore,  though  we  are  to  desire  a  | 
growth  in  grace,  we  should  at  the  same  time  i 
acquiesce  in  his  appointment,  and  not  to  be  ■ 
discouraged  or  despond,  because  we  feel  that  J 
25-2 


conflict  which  his  word  informs  us  will  only 
terminate  with  our  lives. 

Again,  some  of  the  first  prayers  which  the 
Spirit  of  God  teaches  us  to  put  up,  are  for  a 
clearer  sense  of  the  sinfulness  of  sin,  and  our 
vjleness  on  account  of  it.  Now,  if  the  Iiord 
is  pleased  to  answer  your  prayers  in  this  re- 
spect, though  it  will  afford  you  cause  enough 
for  humiliation,  yet  it  should  be  received 
likewise  with  thankfulness,  as  a  token  for 
good.  Your  heart  is  not  worse  than  it  was 
formerly,  only  your  spiritual  knowledcre  is 
increased ;  and  this  is  no  small  part  of  the 
growth  in  grace  which  you  are  thirstmg  after, 
to  be  truly  humbled,  and  emptied,  and  made 
little  in  your  own  eyes. 

Farther,  the  examples  of  the  saints  record- 
ed in  scripture  (and  indeed  of  the  saints  in 
general)  prove,  that  the  g'reater  measure  any 
person  has  of  the  grace  of  God  in  truth,  the 
more  conscientious  and  lively  they  have  been ; 
and  the  more  they  have  been  favoured  with 
assurances  of  the  divine  favour,  so  much  the 
more  deep  and  sensible  their  perception  of 
indwelling"  sin  and  infirmity  has  always  been ; 
so  it  was  with  Job,  Isaiah,  Daniel,  and  Paul. 
It  is  likewise  common  to  overcharge  our- 
selves. Indeed  we  cannot  think  ourselves 
worse  than  we  really  are ;  yet  some  things 
which  abate  the  comfort  and  alacrity  of  our 
christian  profession  are  rather  impediments 
than  properly  sinful,  and  will  not  be  imputed 
to  us  by  him  who  knows  our  frame,  and  re- 
members that  we  are  but  dust.  Thus,  to 
have  an  infirm  memory,  to  be  subject  to  dis- 
ordered, irregular,  or  low  spirits,  are  faults 
of  the  constitution,  in  which  the  will  has  no 
share,  though  they  are  all  burdensome  and 
oppressive,  and  sometimes  needlessly  so,  by 
our  charging  ourselves  with  guilt  on  their  ac- 
count. The  same  may  be  observed  of  the 
unspeakable  and  fierce  suggestions  of  Satan 
with  which  some  persons  are  pestered,  but 
which  shall  be  laid  to  hun  from  whom  they 
proceed,  and  not  to  them  who  are  troubled 
and  terrified  because  they  are  forced  to  feel 
them. 


4jn\  n.] 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


Lastly,  it  is  by  the  cxporionco  of  thc80 
-evils  within  oiirsclvos,  and  hy  ft'olin<^our  ut- 
ter insuthcioncy,  either  to  iwrforni  duty,  or 
to  withsstand  our  enemies,  that  the  lx)rd  takes 
occasion  to  show  us  the  suitableness,  the  suf- 
ficiency, the  freeness,  the  unchanj;eablen«\ss 
of  his  jx)\ver  and  {jrace.  This  is  the  infer- 
ence St.  Paul  draws  from  his  complaints, 
Rom.  vii.  2.'>,  and  he  learned  it  upon  a  try- 
ing- occasion  from  the  Lord's  own  moutli,  2 
Cor.  xii.  8,  9. 

Let  us,  then,  dear  madam,  be  thankful  and 
cheerful,  and,  while  we  take  shame  to  our- 
selves, let  us  glorify  God  by  giving  Jesus  the 
honour  due  to  his  name.  Though  we  are 
poor,  he  is  rich ;  though  we  are  weak,  he  is 
strong;  though  we  have  nothing,  he  pos- 
sesses all  things,  lie  suffered  for  us ;  he 
calls  us  to  be  conformed  to  him  in  sufferings. 
He  conquered  in  his  own  person,  and  he  will 
make  each  of  his  members  more  than  con- 
querors in  due  season.  It  is  good  to  have  one 
eye  upon  ourselves,  but  the  other  should  ever 
be  fi.xed  on  him  who  stands  in  the  relation  of 
Saviour,  Husband,  Head,  and  Shepherd.  In 
him  we  have  righteousness,  peace,  and  power. 
He  can  control  all  that  we  fear;  so  thal^  if 
our  path  should  be  through  the  fire  or  through 
the  water,  neither  the  flood  shall  drown  us 
nor  the  flame  kindle  upon  us,  and  ere  long 
Jie  will  cut  short  our  conflicts,  and  say.  Come 
up  hither.  "  Then  shall  our  grateful  songs 
abound,  and  every  tear  be  wiped  away." 
Having  such  promises  and  assurances,  let  us 
lill  up  our  banner  in  his  name  and  press  on 
through  every  discouragement. 

With  regard  to  company,  that  have  not  a 
savour  of  the  best  things,  as  it  is  not  your 
choice,  I  would  advise  you  (when  necessary) 
to  bear  it  as  a  cross.  We  cannot  suffer  by 
being  where  we  ought  to  be,  except  through 
our  own  impatience ;  and  I  have  an  idea, 
that  when  we  are  providentially  called  among 
such  (for  something  is  due  to  friends  and  re- 
lations, whether  they  walk  with  us  or  no,)  that 
the  hours  need  not  be  wholly  lost.  Nothing 
can  pass  but  may  be  improved :  the  most  tri- 
vial conversation  may  afford  us  new  views  of 
the  heart,  new  confirmations  of  scripture,  and 
renew  a  sense  of  our  obligations  to  distin- 
guishing grace,  which  has  made  us  in  any  de- 
gree to  differ.  I  would  wish,  when  you  go 
amongst  your  friends,  that  you  do  not  con- 
fine your  views  to  getting  safe  away  from 
them' without  loss,  but  entertain  a  hope  that 
you  may  be  sent  to  do  some  of  them  good. 
You  cannot  tell  what  effect  a  word  or  a  look 
may  have,  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  bless  it. 
I  think  we  may  humbly  hope,  that  while  we 
sincerely  desire  to  please  the  Lord,  and  to  be 
guided  by  him  in  all  things,  he  will  not  suf- 
fer us  to  take  a  journey,  or  hardly  to  make  a 
short  visit,  which  shall  not  answer  some  good 
purpose  to  ourselves  or  others,  or  both.  While 
your  gay  friends  affect  an  air  of  raillery,  the 


I>ord  may  give  you  a  secret  wjtnofw  in  their 
consciences;  and  honjethmg  Ihcy  oIjwtvp  in 
you,  or  hear  from  you,  may  set  ihcni  tm  tlnnk- 
ing,  perhajKs  alter  you  are  gone,  or  alter  the 
first  occasion  has  entirely  slipped  your  me- 
mory, Eccles.  xi.  L  For  my  own  part,  when 
I  consider  the  |)ower,  the  freedom  of  divine 
grace,  and  how  sovereign  the  Ix;rd  is  in  the 
choice  of  the  instruments  and  means  by  which 
he  is  pleased  to  work,  I  live  in  hopes  from 
day  to  day  of  hearing  of  wonders  of  this  sort. 
I  despair  of  nobody ;  and  if  I  sometimes  am 
ready  to  think  such  or  such  a  person  seema 
more  unlikely  than  others  to  be  brought  in, 
I  relieve  myself  by  a  possibility  that  that  very 
person,  and  for  that  very  reason,  may  be  the 
first  instance.  The  Lord's  thoughts  are  not 
like  ours:  in  his  love  and  in  his  ways  there 
are  heights  which  we  cannot  reach,  depths 
which  we  cannot  fathom,  lengths  and 
breadths  beyond  the  ken  of  our  feeble  sight 
Let  us,  then,  simply  depend  upon  him,  and 
do  our  little  best,  leaving  the  event  in  hia 
hand. 

I  cannot  tell  if  you  know  any  thing  of  Mrs. 

.     In  a  letter  I  received  yesterday,  she 

writes  thus : — "  I  am  at  present  very  ill  with 
some  disorder  in  my  throat,  which  seems  to 
threaten  my  life;  but  death  or  life,  things 
present  or  things  to  come,  all  things  are  mine, 
and  I  am  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's.  O 
glorious  privilege !  precious  foundation  of 
soul-rest  and  peace,  when  all  things  about 
us  are  most  troublous !  Soon  we  shall  be  at 
home  with  Christ,  where  sin,  sorrow,  and 
death  have  no  place ;  and  in  the  mean  time 
our  Beloved  will  lead  us  through  the  wilder- 
ness. How  safe,  how  joyous  are  we,  may 
w^e  be,  in  the  most  evil  case !"  If  these 
should  be  some  of  the  last  notes  of  this  swan, 
I  think  them  worth  preserving.  May  we  not 
with  good  reason  say.  Who  would  not  be  a 
Christian  1  The  Lord  grant  that  you  and  I, 
madam,  and  yours  and  mine,  may  be  happy 
in  the  same  assurance,  when  we  shall  have 
death  and  eternity  near  in  view. — I  am,  &:c. 


LETTER  II. 

September  — ,  1764. 
MY  DEAR  MADAM, — Your  Welfare  I  rejoice 
in:  your  warfare  I  understand  something  of. 
St  Paul  describes  his  own  case  in  few  words, 
"  Without  were  fightings,  within  were  fears." 
Does  not  this  comprehend  all  you  would  say  1 
And  how  are  you  to  know  experimentally  either 
your  own  weakness,  or  the  power,  wisdom,  and 
grace  of  Gal,  seasonably  and  sufficiently  af- 
forded, but  by  frequent  and  various  trials? 
How  are  the  graces  of  patience,  resignation, 
meekness,  and  faith,  to  be  discovered  and  in- 
creased, but  by  exercise  ]  The  Lord  has 
chosen,  called,  and  armed  us  for  the  fight 


354 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.   II. 


and  shall  we  wish  to  he  excused  ?  Shall  we 
not  rather  rejoice  that  we  have  the  honour  to 
appear  in  such  a  cause,  under  such  a  captain, 
such  a  banner,  and  in  such  company?  A 
complete  suit  of  armour  is  provided,  weapons 
not  to  be  resisted,  and  precious  balm  to  heal 
us  if  haply  we  receive  a  wound,  and  precious 
ointment  to  revive  us  when  we  are  in  danger 
of  fainting-.  Further,  we  are  assured  of  the 
victory  beforehand ;  and  O  what  a  crown  is 
prepared  for  every  conqueror,  whicli  Jesus, 
the  righteous  Judge,  the  gracious  Saviour, 
shall  place  upon  every  faithful  head  with  his 
own  hand !  Then  let  us  not  be  weary  and 
faint,  for  in  due  season  we  shall  reap.  The 
time  is  short;  yet  a  little  while,  and  the  strug- 
gle of  indwelling  sin,  and  the  contradiction 
of  surrounding  sinners,  shall  be  known  no 
more.  You  are  blessed,  because  you  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness:  he  whose 
name  is  Amen  has  said  you  shall  be  filled. 
To  claim  the  promise  is  to  make  it  our  own ; 
yet  it  is  becoming  us  to  practise  submission 
and  patience,  not  in  temporals  only,  but  also 
in  spirituals.  We  should  be  ashamed  and 
grieved  at  our  slow  progress,  so  far  as  it  is 
properly  chargeable  to  our  remissness  and 
miscarriages;  yet  we  must  not  expect  to 
receive  every  thing  at  once,  but  wait  for  a 
gradual  increase  ;  nor  should  we  forget  to  be 
thankful  for  what  we  may  account  a  little  in 
comparison  of  the  much  we  suppose  others 
have  received.  A  little  grace,  a  spark  of 
true  love  to  God,  a  grain  of  living  faith, 
though  small  as  mustard-seed,  is  worth  a 
thousand  worlds.  One  draught  of  the  water 
of  life  gives  interest  in  and  earnest  of  the 
whole  fountain.  It  becometh  the  Lord's 
people  to  be  thankful ;  and  to  acknowledge 
his  goodness  in  what  we  have  received,  is 
the  surest  as  well  as  the  pleasantest  method 
of  obtaining  more.  Nor  should  the  grief 
arising  from  what  we  know  and  feel  of  our 
own  hearts,  rob  us  of  the  honour,  comfort, 
and  joy  which  the  word  of  God  designs  us, 
in  what  is  there  recorded  of  the  person, 
offices,  and  grace  of  Jesus,  and  the  relations 
he  is  pleased  to  stand  in  to  his  people,  Psal. 
xxiii.  1,  Isa.  liv.  .5,  Cant.  v.  16,  John  xv.  15, 
1  John  ii.  1,  John  xv.  1,  Jer.  xxiii.  5,  1  Cor. 
i.  30,  Matt.  i.  21—23.  Give  me  leave  to  re- 
commend to  your  consideration  Psal.  Ixxxix. 
15 — 18.  These  verses  may  be  called  the 
Believer's  Triumph :  though  they  are  nothing 
in  themselves,  yet  having  all  in  Jesus,  they 
may  rejoice  in  his  name  all  tiie  day.  The 
Lord  enable  us  so  to  do !  The  joy  of  the 
Lord  is  the  strength  of  his  people  ;  whereas 
unbelief  makes  our  hands  hang  down,  and 
our  knees  feeble,  dispirits  ourselves,  and  dis- 
courages others ;  and  though  it  steals  upon 
us  under  a  semblance  of  humility,  it  is  indeed 
the  very  essence  of  pride.  By  inward  and 
outward  exercises  the  Lord  is  promoting  the 
best  desire  of  your  heart,  and  answering  your 


daily  prayers.  Would  you  have  assurance  1 
The  true  solid  assurance  is  to  be  obtained  no 
other  way.  When  young  christians  are 
greatly  comforted  with  the  Lord's  love  and 
presence,  their  doubts  and  fears  are  for  that 
season  at  an  end.  But  this  is  not  assurance: 
so  soon  as  the  Lord  hides  his  face,  they  are 
troubled,  and  ready  to  question  the  very  "foun- 
dation of  hope.  Assurance  grows  by  repeated 
conflicts,  by  our  repeated  experimental  proof 
of  the  Lord's  power  and  goodness  to  save: 
when  we  have  been  brought  very  low  and 
helped,  sorely  wounded  and  healed,  cast  down 
and  raised  again,  have  given  up  all  hope,  and 
been  suddenly  snatched  from  danger,  and 
placed  in  safety,  and  when  these  things  have 
been  repeated  to  us  and  in  us  a  thousand 
times  over,  we  begin  to  learn  to  trust  simply 
to  the  word  and  power  of  God,  beyond  and 
against  appearances;  and  this  trust,  when 
habitual  and  strong,  bears  the  name  of  assur- 
ance, for  even  assurance  has  degrees. 

You  have  good  reason,  madam,  to  suppose 
that  the  love  of  the  best  christians  to  an  un- 
seen Saviour  is  far  short  of  what  it  ought  to 
be.  If  your  heart  be  like  mine,  and  you  ex- 
amine your  love  to  Christ  by  the  warmth  and 
frequency  of  your  emotions  towards  him,  you 
will  often  be  in  a  sad  suspense  whether  or  no 
you  love  him  at  all.  The  best  mark  to  judge, 
and  which  he  has  given  us  for  that  purpose, 
is  to  inquire  if  his  word  and  will  have  a  pre- 
vailing, governing  influence  upon  our  lives 
and  temper.  If  we  love  him,  we  do  endea- 
vour to  keep  his  commandments;  and  it  will 
hold  the  other  way,  if  we  have  a  desire  to 
please  him  we  undoubtedly  love  him.  Obe- 
dience is  the  best  test;  and  when,  amidst  all 
our  imperfections,  we  can  humbly  appeal 
concerning  the  sincerity  of  our  views,  this  is 
a  mercy  for  which  we  ought  to  be  greatly 
thankful.  He  that  has  brought  us  to  will, 
will  likewise  enable  us  to  do  according  to  his 
good  pleasure.  I  doubt  not  but  the  Lord 
whom  you  love,  and  on  whom  you  depend, 
will  lead  you  in  a  sure  way,  and  establish 
and  strengthen,  and  settle  you  in  his  love 
and  grace.  Indeed  he  has  done  great  things 
for  you  already.  The  Lord  is  your  Shep- 
herd ; — a  comprehensive  word.  The  sheep 
can  do  nothing  for  themselves ;  the  shepherd 
must  guide,  guard,  feed,  heal,  recover.  Well 
for  us  that  our  Shepherd  is  the  Lord  Almighty. 
If  his  power,  care,  compassion,  fulness,  were 
not  infinite,  the  poor  sheep  would  be  forsaken, 
starved,  and  worried.  But  we  iiave  a  Shep- 
herd full  of  care,  full  of  kindness,  full  of 
power,  who  has  said,  I  will  seek  that  which 
is  lost,  and  bind  up  that  which  was  broken, 
and  bring  again  that  which  was  driven  away, 
and  will  strengthen  that  which  was  sick. 
How  tender  are  these  expressions,  and  how 
well  fulfilled  !  His  sheep  feed  in  the  midst 
of  wolves,  yet  are  preserved  safe;  forthouoh 
they  see  liim  not,  his  eyes  and  his  heart  aitj 


LET.  III.] 


ij:tters  to  mrs. 


306 


upon  Ihcin.  Do  wo  woiuIiT  that  Diinirl  wns 
prosorvotl  in  the  Hons'  den  !  Why.  it  is  a 
common  case.  Which  of  (itxl's  chiMroii 
have  not  cause  to  8ay,  "  My  wnil  is  amon<Lr 
lions  V  But  tlie  An«;el  of  the  covenant  stops 
their  mouths,  or  only  poxmits  them  to  <nip(^ 
and  roar,  to  show  their  teeth,  and  what  they 
would  do  if  they  niitjht;  but  they  may  not, 
they  shall  not  bite  and  tear  us  at  their  own 
will.  Lot  us  trust  him,  and  all  shall  be  well. 
As  to  daily  occurrences,  it  is  best  to  be- 
lieve that  a  daily  portion  of  comforts  and 
crosses,  each  one  the  most  suitable  to  our 
case,  is  adjusted  and  appointed  by  the  hand 
Avhich  was  once  nailed  to  the  cross  for  us; 
that  where  the  path  of  duty  and  prudence 
leads,  there  is  th*:;  best  situation  we  could 
possibly  be  in  at  that  juncture.  We  arc  not 
required  to  afflict  ourselves  immoderately  for 
what  is  not  in  our  power  to  prevent,  nor 
should  any  thing-  that  affords  occasions  for 
mortifying  the  spirit  of  self  be  accounted  un- 
necessary.— I  am,  &LC. 


L 


LETTER  TIL 

1768. 

I  HAVE  been  for  some  time  hoping  to  hear 
from  you,  but  Mr. was  here  last  Satur- 
day, and  informed  me  that  you  were  ill,  or 
had  been  so  very  lately.  This  intelliirencc 
prompted  me  to  write  as  soon  as  I  could  find 
leisure.  I  think  the  Lord  has  seen  fit  to  visit 
you  with  much  indisposition  of  late;  I  say  he 
has  seen  fit,  for  all  our  trials  are  under  his 
immediate  direction,  and  we  are  never  in 
heaviness  without  a  need  be.  I  trust  he  does 
and  will  give  you  strength  equal  to  your  day, 
and  sweeten  what  would  be  otherwise  bitter 
with  the  essence  of  his  precious  love.  I 
hope  soon  to  hear  that  you  are  restored  to 
health,  and  that  you  have  found  cause  to 
praise  him  for  the  rod. 

How  happy  is  the  state  of  a  believer,  to 
have  a  sure  promise  that  all  shall  work  to- 
gether for  good  in  the  end,  and  in  the  mean 
time  a  sure  refuge  where  to  find  present  re- 
lief, support,  and  protection  !  How  comfort- 
able is  it,  when  trouble  is  near,  to  know  that 
the  Lord  is  near  likewise,  and  to  commit  our- 
selves and  all  our  cares  simply  to  him,  be- 
lieving that  his  eye  is  upon  us,  and  his  ear 
open  to  our  prayers.  Under  the  conduct  of 
such  a  Shepherd  we  need  not  fear ;  though 
we  are  called  to  pass  through  fire  and  water, 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
he  will  be  with  us,  and  will  show  himself 
mighty  on  our  behalf.  It  seems  almost  need- 
less to  say,  that  we  were  very  happy  in  the 

company  of :  the  only  inconvenience 

was,  that  it  renewed  the  pain  it  always  gives 
me  to  part  with  them.  Though  the  visit  was 
full  as  long  as  I  could  possibly  expect,  it 


seemed  very  short.  This  must  he  the  raae 
while  we  art'  here:  our  pIciihuroH  are  hhort, 
interrupted,  and  mi.\ed  with  tmubloH:  thiit  in 
not,  carmot  be  our  rest.  lUit  it  will  noi  bo 
always  the  case:  we  arc  travelling  to  a  better 
world,  where  every  evil  and  imi)eriecti<jn  stmll 
cease;  then  we  shall  he  for  ever  with  the 
Lord  and  with  each  other.  May  the  pros- 
pect of  this  blessed  hope  set  before  us  revive 
our  fainting  s])irits,  and  make  us  willing  to 
endure  lmr(lshij)s  as  good  soldiers  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Here  we  must  often  sow  in  tears, 
but  there  we  shall  reap  in  joy,  and  all  tears 
shall  bo  wiped  from  our  eyes  for  ever.  I 
hope  the  conversation  of  friends  whom  I  so 
greatly  love  and  honour  aflbrded  me  not  only 
pleasure  but  profit ;  it  left  a  savour  upon  my 
mind,  and  stirred  up  my  languid  desires  after 
the  Lord.  I  wish  I  could  say  the  good  eflect 
has  remained  with  me  to  this  hour;  but  alas! 
I  am  a  poor  creature,  and  have  had  many 
causes  of  humiliation  since.  But  blessed  be 
God,  amidst  all  my  changes  I  find  the  foun- 
dation stands  sure,  and  I  am  seldom  or  never 
left  to  doubt  either  of  the  Lord's  love  to  me 
or  the  reality  of  the  desires  he  has  given  me 
towards  himself;  though,  when  I  measure 
my  love  by  the  degrees  of  its  exercise,  or  the 
fruits  it  produceth,  I  have  reason  to  sit  down 
ashamed,  as  the  chief  of  sinners  and  the  least 
of  all  saints.  But  in  him  1  have  righteous- 
ness and  peace,  and  in  him  I  must  and  will 
rejoice. 

I  would  willingly  fill  up  my  sheet,  but  feel 
a  straitness  in  my  spirit,  and  know  not  what 
farther  to  say.  O  for  a  ray  of  divine  light 
to  set  me  at  liberty,  that  I  mio^ht  write  a  few 
lines  worth  reading,  something  that  might 
warm  my  heart,  and  comfort  yours.  Then 
the  subject  must  be  Jesus;  but  of  him  what 
can  I  say  that  you  do  not  know  ]  Well, 
though  you  know  him,  you  are  glad  to  hear 
of  him  again  and  again.  Come,  then,  mag- 
nify the  Lord  with  me,  and  let  us  exalt  his 
name  together.  Let  us  adore  him  for  his 
love,  that  love  which  has  a  height,  and  depth, 
and  length,  and  breadth,  beyond  the  grasp  of 
our  poor  conceptions ;  a  love  that  moved  him 
to  empty  himself,  to  take  on  him  the  form  of 
a  servant,  and  to  be  obedient  unto  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross ;  a  love  that  pitied 
us  in  our  lost  estate,  that  found  us  when  we 
sought  him  not,  that  spoke  peace  to  our  souls 
in  the  day  of  our  distress;  a  love  that  bears 
with  all  our  present  weakness,  mistakes, 
backslid ings,  and  shortcomings;  a  love  that 
is  always  watchful,  always  ready  to  guide, 
to  comfort,  and  to  heal ;  a  love  that  will  not 
be  wearied,  cannot  be  conquered,  and  is  in- 
capable of  changes ;  a  love  that  will,  in  the 
end,  prevail  over  all  opposition,  will  perfect 
that  which  concerns  us,  and  will  not  leave 
us  till  it  has  brought  us  perfect  in  holiness 
and  happiness,  to  rejoice  in  his  presence  in 
glory.    The  love  of  Christ!  it  is  the  wonder, 


356 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  it. 


the  joy,  tlio  song",  of  angels,  and  the  sense  of 
it  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts,  makes  life 
pleasant,  and  death  welcome. — Alas !  what 
a  heart  have  I,  that  1  love  him  no  better! 
But  I  hope  he  has  given  me  a  desire  to  make 
him  my  all  in  all,  and  to  account  every  thing 
loss  and  dross  that  dares  to  stand  in  competi- 
tion with  him. — I  am,  <S>:c. 


LETTER  IV. 


1769. 


I  FOUND,  this  morning-,  among  my  unan- 
swered letters,  one  from  you,  but  I  hope  I 
left  it  among  them  by  mistake.  I  am  willing, 
however,  to  be  on  the  sure  side,  and  would 
rather  write  twice  than  be  too  long  silent. 
I  heard  of  your  being  laid  on  the  bed  of 
affliction,  and  of  the  Lord's  goodness  to  you 
there,  and  of  his  raising  you  up  again.  Bless- 
ed be  his  name !  he  is  all-sufRcient  and  faith- 
ful ;  and  though  he  cause  grief,  he  is  sure  to 
show  compassion  in  supporting  and  deliver- 
ing. Ah!  the  evil  of  our  nature  is  deeply 
rooted  and  very  powerful,  or  such  repeated, 
continual  corrections  and  chastisements 
would  not  be  necessary,  and  were  they  not 
necessary  we  should  not  have  them.  But 
such  w^e  are,  and  therefore  such  must  be  our 
treatment ;  for  though  the  Lord  loves  us  with 
a  tenderness  beyond  what  the  mother  feels 
for  her  sucking  child,  yet  it  is  a  tenderness 
directed  by  infinite  wisdom,  and  very  differ- 
ent from  that  weak  indulgence  which  in 
parents  we  call  fondness,  which  leads  them 
to  comply  with  their  children's  desires  and 
inclinations,  rather  than  to  act  with  a  steady 
view  to  their  true  welfare.  The  Lord  loves 
his  children,  and  is  very  indulgent  to  them, 
so  far  as  they  can  safely  bear  it,  but  he  will 
not  spoil  them.  Their  sin-sickness  requires 
medicines,  some  of  which  are  very  unpalat- 
able; but  when  the  case  calls  for  such,  no 
short-sighted  entreaties  of  ours  can  excuse 
us  from  taking  what  he  prepares  for  our 
good.  But  every  dose  is  prepared  by  his 
own  hand,  and  not  one  is  administered  in 
vain,  nor  is  it  repeated  any  oftener  than  is 
needful  to  answer  the  proposed  end.  Till 
then,  no  other  end  can  remove  what  he  lays 
upon  us;  but  when  his  merciful  design  is 
answered,  he  will  relieve  us  himself,  and  in 
the  mean  time,  he  will  so  moderate  the  ope- 
ration, or  increase  our  ability  to  bear,  that  we 
shall  not  be  overpowered.  It  is  true,  without 
a  single  exception,  that  all  his  paths  are 
mercy  and  truth  to  them  that  fear  him.  His 
love  is  the  same  when  he  wounds  as  when 
lie  heals,  when  he  takes  away  as  when  he 
gives:  wo  have  reason  to  thank  him  for  all, 
but  most  for  the  severe. 

I  received  a  letter  from  you,  which  men- 
tions dear  Mrs. 's  case  a  very  trying 


one;  but  in  this  likewise  we  see  the  Lord's 
faithfulness.  Our  own  experience,  and  all 
tiiat  we  observe  of  his  dealings  with  others, 
niay  convince  us  that  we  need  not  be  afraid 
to  entrust  ourselves  and  our  dearest  concerns 
in  his  hands;  for  he  can  and  will  make  every- 
thing work  for  good. 

How  little  does  the  world  know  of  that  in- 
tercourse which  is  carried  on  between  heaven 
and  earth !  what  petitions  are  daily  presented, 
and  what  answers  are  received,  at  the  throne 
of  grace !  O  the  blessed  privilege  of  prayer ! 
O  the  wonderful  love,  care,  attention,  and 
power  of  our  great  Shepherd!  His  eye  is  al- 
ways uiK)n  us ;  when  our  spirits  are  almost 
overwhelmed  within  us,  he  knoweth  our  path. 
His  ear  is  always  open  to  us;  let  who  will 
overlook  and  disappoint  us,  he  will  not.  When 
means  and  hope  fail,  when  every  thing  looks 
dark  upon  us,  when  we  seem  shut  up  on  every 
side,  when  we  are  brought  to  the  lowest  ebb, 
still  our  help  is  in  the  name  of  the  Ix)rd  who 
made  heaven  and  earth.  To  him  all  things 
are  possible ;  and  before  the  exertion  of  his. 
power,  when  he  is  pleased  to  arise  and  work, 
all  hinderances  give  way,  and  vanish  like  a 
mist  before  the  sun.  And  he  can  so  manifest 
himself  to  the  soul,  and  cause  his  goodness 
to  pass  before  it,  that  the  hour  of  affliction 
shall  be  the  golden  hour  of  the  greatest  con- 
solation. He  is  the  fountain  of  life,  strength, 
grace,  and  comfort,  and  of  his  fulness  his 
children  receive  according  to  their  occasions: 
but  this  is  all  hidden  from  the  world ;  they 
have  no  guide  in  prosperity,  but  hurry  on  as 
they  are  instigated  by  their  blinded  passions, 
and  are  perpetually  multiplying  mischiefs 
and  miseries  to  themselves;  and  in  adversity 
they  have  no  resource,  but  must  feel  all  the 
evil  of  affliction,  without  inward  support, 
and  without  deriving  any  advantage  from  it. 
We  have,  therefore,  cause  for  continual 
praise.  The  Lord  has  given  us  to  know  his 
name,  as  a  resting-place  and  a  hiding-place, 
a  sun  and  a  shield.  Circumstances  and  crea- 
tures may  change ;  but  he  will  be  an  un- 
changeable friend.  The  way  is  rough,  but 
he  trod  it  before  us,  and  is  now  with  us  in 
every  step  we  take;  and  every  step  brings 
us  nearer  to  our  heavenly  home.  Our  in- 
heritance is  surely  reserved  for  us,  and  we 
shall  be  kept  for  'it  by  his  power  through 
faith.  Our  present  strength  is  small,  and, 
without  a  fresh  supply,  would  be  quickly  ex- 
hausted ;  but  he  has  engaged  to  renew  it 
from  day  to  day;  and  he  will  soon  appear,  to 
wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes;  and  then  we 
shall  appear  with  him  in  glory. 

I  am  very  sorry  if  our  friend  Mr. ap- 
pears to  be  aiming  to  reconcile  things  that  are 
incompatible.  I  am,  indeed,  afraid  that  he 
has  been  for  some  time  under  a  decline ;  and, 
as  you  justly  observe,  we  meet  with  too  many 
instances  to  teach  us,  that  they  who  express 
the  warmest  zeal  at  their  first  setting  out, 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


LET.  v.] 


do  not  always  prove  the  most  stondy  and 
thrivinif  ntUTWiirds;  yet  I  am  willin^j  to 
hope  in  this  case,  that  he  will  revive  and 
flourish  aoTiin.  Sometimes  the  Lord  permits 
those  whom  he  loves  to  wander  from  him  for 
a  season;  and  when  his  time  comes  to  heal 
their  iKicktlidinjrs,  they  walk  more  humhly, 
thankfully,  and  fruitlully  afterwards^  tVum  a 
sense  of  his  aboundinfj  mercy,  and  the  know- 
ledo:e  they  have  by  experience  acquired  of 
the  deceitfulness  and  ingratitude  of  their 
hearts.  I  hope  and  pray  it  will  be  so  with 
him.  However,  these  thin^fs  for  the  present 
are  g-rievous;  and  usually  before  the  Lord 
heals  such  breaches,  he  makes  his  people 
sensible,  that  it  is  an  evil  thinar  and  a  bitter, 
to  forsake  him  when  he  led  them  by  the  way. 
Indeed,  I^ndon  is  a  dann^erous  and  ensnar- 
ing- place  to  professors.  I  account  myself 
happy  that  my  lot  is  cast  at  a  distance  from 
it.  It  appears  to  me  like  a  sea,  wherein  most 
are  tossed  by  storms,  and  many  suffer  ship- 
wreck. In  this  retired  situation,  I  seem  to 
stand  upon  a  clitf;  and  while  I  pity  those 
whom  I  cannot  help,  I  hug  myself  in  the 
thoughts  of  being  safe  upon  the  shore.  Not 
that  we  are  without  our  trials  here ;  the  evil 
of  our  own  hearts,  and  the  devices  of  Satan, 
cut  us  out  work  enough;  but  we  are  happily 
screened  from  many  thmgs  which  must  be 
either  burdensome  or  hurtful  to  those  who 
live  in  the  way  of  them ;  such  as,  political 
disputes,  winds  of  doctrine,  scandals  of  false 
professors,  parties  for  and  against  particular 
ministers,  and  fashionable  amusements,  in 
some  measure  countenanced  by  the  presence 
of  persons  in  other  respects  exemplary.  In 
this  view,  I  often  think  of  our  dear  friend's 
expression,  upon  a  certain  occasion,  of  the 
difference  between  London  and  country  grace. 
I  hold  it  in  a  twofold  sense.  By  London 
grace,  when  genuine,  I  understand  grace  in 
a  very  advanced  degree.  The  favoured  few 
who  are  kept  alive  to  God,  simple-hearted, 
and  spiritually-minded  (I  mean  especially  in 
genteel  life,)  in  the  midst  of  such  snares  and 
temptations,  appear  to  me  to  be  the  first  rate 
christians  of  the  land  :  I  adore  the  power  of 
tlie  Lord  in  them,  and  compare  them  to  the 
young  men  who  walked  unhurt  in  the  midst 
of  the  fire.  In  another  sense,  the  phrase 
London  grace  conveys  no  great  idea  to  me. 
I  think  there  is  no  place  in  the  kingdom 
where  a  person  may  set  up  for  a  professor 
UDon  a  smaller  stock.  If  people  can  abstain 
from  open  immoralities,  if  they  will  fly  to  all 
parts  of  the  town  to  hear  sermons,  if  they 
can  talk  about  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  if 
they  have  something  to  say  upon  that  use- 
less question.  Who  is  the  best  preacher  ]  if 
they  can  attain  to  a  speaking  acquaintance 
with  some  of  an  acknowledged  character, 
then  they  expect  to  pass  muster.  I  am  afraid 
there  are  many  who,  upon  no  better  evi- 
d,;nces  than  tliese  deceive  both  themselves 


nr,7 


and  others  for  a  course  of  years.  Though  I 
feel  mtt  in  a  writing  cue  t(>-<!ay,  I  have  al- 
most tilled  the  sheet  somehow;  and  if  a  lino 
or  a  word  may  Ijc  a  means  of  j-iiggesting  a 
seasonable  and  comfi)rtal)le  thought  to  you,  I 
have  my  end.  Through  mercy  we  are  all 
pretty  well.  My  soul  is  ke{)t  alive,  as  it  were, 
by  miracle.  I  feel  much  inward  warfare: 
the  enemy  thrusts  sore  at  me,  that  I  may 
fall;  and  1  have  abundant  experience  of  the 
evil  and  deceitfulness  of  my  heart;  but  the 
Ix)rd  is  gracious,  and,  in  the  midst  of  all 
conflicts,  I  have  a  peace  springing  from  the 
knowledge  of  his  power  and  grace,  and  a 
consideration  that  I  have  been  helped  to 
commit  myself  to  him. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 


1769. 


We  are  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  late 
visit;  and  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  Lord  is 
pleased  to  give  you  some  tokens  of  his  pre- 
sence when  you  are  with  us,  because  I  hope 
it  will  encourage  you  to  come  again.  I  ought 
to  be  very  thankful  that  our  christian  friends 
in  general  are  not  wholly  disappointed  of  a 
blessing  when  they  visit  us. 

I  hope  the  Lord  will  give  me  an  humble 
sense  of  what  I  am,  and  that  broken  and 
contrite  frame  of  heart  in  which  he  delights. 
This  is  to  me  the  chief  thing,  I  had  rather 
have  more  of  tlie  mind  that  was  in  Christ, 
more  of  a  meek,  quiet,  resigned,  peaceful, 
and  loving  disposition,  than  to  enjoy  the 
greatest  measure  of  sensible  comforts,  if  the 
consequence  should  be  (as  perhaps  it  would; 
spiritual  pride,  self-sufficiency,  and  a  want 
of  that  tenderness  to  others  which  becomes 
one  who  has  reason  to  style  himself  the  chief 
of  sinners.  I  know,  indeed,  that  the  proper 
tendency  of  sensible  consolations  is  to  hum- 
ble; but  I  can  see,  that  through  the  depravi- 
ty of  human  nature,  they  have  not  always 
that  effect.  And  I  have  been  sometimes 
disgusted  with  an  apparent  want  of  humility, 
an  air  of  self-will  and  self-importance,  in 
persons  of  whose  sincerity  I  could  not  at  all 
doubt.  It  has  kept  me  from  envying  them 
those  pleasant  frames  with  which  they  have 
sometimes  been  favoured ;  for  I  believe  Sa- 
tan is  never  nearer  us  than  at  some  times 
when  we  think  ourselves  nearest  the  Ivord. 

W^hat  reason  have  we  to  charge  our  souls 
in  David's  words,  "My  soul,  wait  thou  only 
upon  God."  A  great  stress  should  be  laid 
upon  that  word  only.  We  dare  not  entirely- 
shut  him  out  of  our  regards,  but  we  are  too 
apt  to  suffer  something  to  share  with  him. 
This  evil  disposition  is  deeply  fixed  in  our 
hearts;  and  tlie  Lord  orders  all  his  dispensa- 
j  tions  towards  us  with  a  view  to  rooting  it 
out ;  that,  being  wearied  with  repeated  dis- 


a58 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  ▼, 


appointments,  we  may  at  length  be  compell- 
ed to  betake  ourselves  to  him  alone.  Why 
else  do  we  experience  so  many  changes  and 
crosses?  why  are  we  so  oflcn  in  heaviness? 
We  know  that  he  delights  in  the  pleasure 
and  prosperity  of  his  servants;  that  he  does 
not  willingly  afHict  or  grieve  his  children ; 
but  there  is  a  necessity  on  our  parts,  in  or- 
der to  teach  us  that  we  have  no  stability  in 
ourselves,  and  that  no  creature  can  do  us 
good  but  by  his  appointment.  While  the 
people  of  Israel  depended  upon  him  for  food, 
they  gathered  up  the  manna  every  morning 
in  the  field ;  but  when  they  would  hoard  it  up 
in  their  houses,  that  they  might  have  a  stock 
within  themselves,  they  had  it  without  his 
blessing,  and  it  proved  good  for  nothing ;  it 
soon  bred  worms,  and  grew  offensive.  We 
may  often  observe  something  like  this  occur 
both  in  our  temporal  and  spiritual  concerns. 
The  Lord  gives  us  a  dear  friend  to  our  com- 
fort ;  but  ere  long  we  forget  that  the  friend 
is  the  only  channel  of  conveyance,  and  that 
all  the  comfort  is  from  himself.  To  remind 
us  of  this,  the  stream  is  dried  up,  the  friend 
torn  away  by  death,  or  removed  far  from  us, 
or  perhaps  the  friendship  ceases,  and  a  cool- 
ness insensibly  takes  place,  we  know  not 
how  or  why:  the  true  reason  is,  that  when 
we  rejoice  amiss  in  our  gourd,  the  Lord,  for 
our  good,  sends  a  worm  to  the  root  of  it.  In- 
stances of  this  kind  are  innumerable ;  and 
the  great  inference  from  them  all  is,  Cease 
from  man,  cease  from  creatures,  for  wherein 
are  they  to  be  accounted  of?  My  soul,  wait 
thou  only,  only  upon  the  Lord,  who  is  (ac- 
cording to  the  expressive  phrase,  Ileb.  iv.  13,) 
he  with  whom  we  haye  to  do  for  soul  and 
body,  for  time  and  eternity.  What  thanks 
do  we  owe,  that  though  we  have  not  yet  at- 
tained perfectly  this  great  lesson,  yet  we  are 
admitted  into  that  school  where  alone  it  can 
be  learned!  and  though  we  are  poor,  slow 
scholars,  the  great  and  effectual  Teacher  to 
whom  we  have  been  encouraged  and  enabled 
to  apply,  can  and  will  bring  us  forward! 
He  communicates  not  only  instructio^is,  but 
capacities  and  powers.  There  is  none  like 
him ;  he  can  make  the  blind  to  see,  the  deaf 
to  hear,  and  the  dumb  to  speak :  and  how 
great  is  his  condescension  and  patience  !  how 
does  he  accommodate  himself  to  our  weak- 
ness, and  teach  us  as  we  are  able  to  bear. 
Though  all  are  very  dunces  when  he  first 
receives  them,  not  one  was  ever  turned  out 
as  incapable,  for  he  makes  them  wliat  he 
would  have  them  to  be.  O  that  we  may  set 
him  always  before  us,  and  consider  every 
dispensation,  person,  thing,  we  meet  in  the 
course  of  every  day,  as  messengers  from  him, 
each  bringing  us  some  line  of  instruction  for 
us  to  copy  into  that  day's  experience.  What- 
ever passes  within  us  or  around  us  may  be 
improved  (when  he  teaches  us  how)  as  a 
perpetual  commentary  upon  his  good  word. 


If  we  converse  and  observe  with  this  view 
we  may  learn  something  every  moment, 
wherever  the  path  of  duty  leads  us,  in  the 
streets  as  well  as  in  the  closet,  and  from  the 
conversation  of  those  who  knew  not  God 
(when  we  cannot  avoid  being  present  at  it,) 
as  well  as  from  those  who  do. 

Separation  of  dear  friends,  is,  as  you  ob- 
served, hard  to  flesh  and  blood;  but  grace 
can  make  it  tolerable.  I  have  an  abiding 
persuasion,  that  the  Lord  can  easily  give  more 
than  ever  he  will  take  away.  Which  part 
of  the  alternative  must  be  my  lot,  or  when, 
he  only  knows ;  but  in  general  I  can  rely  on 
him  to  appoint  the  time,  the  manner ;  and  I 
trust  his  promise  of  strength  suited  to  the  day 
shall  be  made  good.  Therefore  I  can  for  the 
most  part  rejoice,  that  all  things  are  in  the 
hand  and  under  the  direction  of  Him  who 
knows  our  frame,  and  has  himself  borne  our 
griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows  in  his  own 
body.  A  time  of  weeping  must  come,  but 
the  morning  of  joy  will  make  amends  for  all. 
Who  can  expound  the  meaning  of  that  one 
expression,  "an  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory?"  The  case  of  unconverted  friends 
is  still  more  burdensome  to  think  of;  but  we 
have  encouragement  and  warrant  to  pray  and 
to  hope.  He  who  called  us  can  easily  call 
others ;  and  he  seldom  lays  a  desire  of  this 
sort  very  closely  and  warmly  upon  the  hearts 
of  his  people,  but  when  it  is  his  gracious 
design  sooner  or  later  to  give  an  answer  of 
peace.  However,  it  becomes  us  to  be  thank- 
ful for  ourselves,  and  to  bow  our  anxieties 
and  reasonings  before  his  sovereign  will,  who 
doth  as  he  pleases  with  his  own. 

Methinks  winter  is  your  summer.  You 
have  been,  like  the  bee,  collecting  from  many 
flowers;  I  hope  you  will  carry  good  store  of 
honey  home  with  you.  May  you  find  the 
Lord  there,  and  he  can  easily  supply  the 
failure  of  means  and  creatures.  We  cannot 
be  in  any  place  to  so  much  advantage  as 
where  the  call  of  duty  leads.  What  we 
cannot  avoid,  may  we  cheerfully  submit  to, 
and  not  indulge  a  vain  thought,  that  we  could 
choose  a  better  situation  tor  ourselves  (all 
things  considered)  than  he  has  chosen  for  us. 

When  we  have  opportunity  of  enjoying 
many  ordinances,  it  is  a  mercy  to  be  able  to 
prize  and  improve  them  ;  but  when  he  cuts 
us  short  for  a  season,  if  we  wait  upon  him, 
we  shall  do  well  without  them.  Secret 
prayer,  and  the  good  word,  are  the  chief 
wells  from  whence  we  draw  the  water  of 
salvation.  These  will  keep  the  soul  alive 
when  creature-streams  are  cut  off;  but  the 
richest  variety  of  public  means,  and  the 
closest  attendance  upon  them  will  leave  us 
lean  and  pining  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  if  we 
are  remiss  and  formal  in  the  other  two.  I 
think  David  never  appears  in  a  more  lively 
frame  of  mind  than  when  he  wrote  the  42d, 
63d,  and  84th  Psalms,  which  were  all  penned 


LKTTERS  TO  MRS. 


860 


in  a  dry  laml,  and  at  n  distance  Troin  tlio 
public  ordinances. — 1  ani,  Sic. 


LETTER  VI. 


177'2. 


I  HAD  been  wishinp^  to  hear  from  you,  that 
I  niijjht  know  where  to  write.  I  hope  1  can 
assure  you  of  a  friendly  sympathy  witii  you 
in  your  trials.  I  can,  in  some  measure,  fjuess 
at  what  you  feel,  from  what  I  have  seen  and 
felt  myself  in  cases  where  I  have  been  nearly 
concerned.  But  my  compassion,  though  sin- 
cere, is  ineffectual :  if  I  can  pity,  I  cannot 
relievo.  All  I  can  do  is,  as  the  Lord  enables 
me,  to  remember  you  both  before  him.  But 
there  is  one  whose  compassion  is  infinite. 
The  love,  and  tenderness  of  ten  thousand 
earthly  friends,  of  ten  thousand  mothers  to- 
wards their  sucklings,  if  compared  with  his, 
are  less  than  a  drop  of  water  to  the  ocean; 
and  his  power  is  in  finite  too.  Why  then  do 
our  sufferings  continue,  when  he  is  so  com- 
passionate, and  could  remove  them  with  a 
word  !  Surely,  if  wo  cannot  give  the  parti- 
cular reasons  (which  yet  he  will  acquaint  us 
with  hereafter,  John  xiii.  7,)  the  general  rea- 
son is  at  hand ;  he  afliicts  not  for  his  own 
pleasure,  but  for  our  profit;  to  make  us  par- 
takers of  his  holiness,  and  because  he  loves  us. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace ; 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

I  wish  you  much  comfort  from  David's 
thought,  Psal.  cxlii.  3.  "  When  my  spirit  was 
overwhelmed  within  me,  thou  knewest  my 
path."  The  Lord  is  not  withdrawn  to  a  great 
distance,  but  his  eye  is  upon  you,  and  he  sees 
you  not  with  the  indifference  of  a  mere 
spectator,  but  he  observes  with  attention ;  he 
knows,  he  considers  your  path ;  yea,  he  ap- 
points it,  and  every  circumstance  about  it  is 
under  his  direction.  Your  trouble  began  at 
the  hour  he  saw  best;  it  could  not  come 
before,  and  he  has  marked  the  degree  of  it  to 
a  hair's-breadth  and  the  duration  to  a  minute. 
He  knows  likewise  how  your  spirit  is  affect- 
ed; and  such  supplies  of  grace  and  strength, 
and  in  such  seasons  as  he  sees  needful,  he 
will  afford.  So  that  when  things  appear 
darkest,  you  shall  still  be  able  to  say,  Though 
<;hastened,  not  killed.  Therefore  hope  in 
God,  for  you  shall  yet  praise  him. 

I  shall  pray  that  the  Bath  waters  may  be 
beneficial ;  and  that  the  waters  of  the  sanc- 
tuary there  may  be  healing  and  enlivening  to 
you  all.  Our  all-sufficient  God  can  give 
seasons  of  refreshment  in  the  darkest  hours, 
and  break  through  the  thickest  clouds  of  out- 
ward affliction  or  distress.  To  you  it  is  given, 
not  only  to  believe  in  Jesus,  but  to  suffer  for 


his  sake:  f)r  ho  wo  do,  not  only  when  wn  are 
calhHJ  to  follow  him  to  itnpri^WiI^n(•ntor<ieAth, 
but  when  he  enables  us  to  Ix-ur  afflictive  diit- 
petisations  with  due  submission  and  patience, 
riien  \\r  is  glorified;  then  his  grace  and 
power  are  manifcHled  in  us.  The  worhl,  so 
far  as  they  know  our  case,  iiavt;  a  proof  lie- 
fort;  them,  that  our  religion  is  not  merely 
notional,  hut  that  there  is  a  power  and  reality 
in  it.  And  the  Lord's  people  are  encouraged 
by  what  they  see  of  his  i'aithfulness  to  our- 
selves. And  there  arc  more  eyes  u|)on  us 
still.  We  are  a  spectacle  to  the  universe,  to 
angels  as  well  as  to  men.  Cheer  up:  the 
lx)rd  hath  put  you  in  your  present  trying 
situation,  that  you  may  have  the  fairer  op- 
portunity of  adorning  your  profession  of  the 
gospel;  and  though  you  suffer  much,  he  is 
able  to  make  you  abundant  amends.  Nor 
need  I  remind  you,  that  he  has  suffered  un- 
speakably more  for  you;  he  drank  for  your 
sakes  a  cup  of  unmixed  wrath,  and  only  puts 
into  your  iiand  a  cup  of  affliction  mixed  with 
many  mercies. 

The  account  you  gave  of  the  poor  man  de- 
tained in  the  inn  was  very  affecting.  Such 
scenes  are  or  should  be  instructive,  to'  teach 
us  resignation  under  the  trials  we  must  meet 
with  every  day.  For  not  only  are  we  visited 
less  than  our  iniquities  have  deserved,  but 
much  less  than  many  of  our  fellow-creatures 
daily  meet  with.  We  need  not  look  about 
for,  or  long  to  find,  others  in  a  worse  situation 
than  ourselves.  If  a  fit  of  the  gout  or  cho- 
lic  is  so  grievous  and  so  hard  to  bear,  what  do 
we  owe  to  him  who  delivered  us  from  that 
place  of  unutterable  torment,  whore  there  is 
weeping,  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth  for 
ever,  without  hope  or  respite  ?  And  if  we 
cannot  help  interesting  ourselves  in  the 
groans  of  a  stranger,  how  ought  the  groans 
of  Jesus  to  be,  as  it  were,  continually  sound- 
ing in  our  ears'?  What  are  all  other  suffer- 
ings compared  to  his!  and  yet  he  endured 
them  freely.  He  needed  not  to  have  borne 
them,  if  he  would  have  left  us  to  perish ;  but 
such  washis  love,  he  died  that  we  might  live, 
and  endured  the  fiercest  agonies,  that  he 
might  open  to  us  the  gate  of  everlasting  peace 
and  happiness.  How  amazingly  perverse  is 
my  heart,  that  I  can  be  more  affected  with  a 
melancholy  story  in  a  newspaper  concerning 
persons  I  never  saw,  than  witfi  all  that  I  read 
of  his  bitter  passion  in  the  garden  and  on  the 
cross,  though  I  profess  to  believe  he  endured 
it  all  for  me !  O  !  if  we  could  always  behold 
him  by  faith  as  evidently  crucified  before  our 
eyes,  how  would  it  compose  our  spirits  as  to 
all  the  sweets  and  bitters  of  this  poor  life! 
What  a  barrier  would  it  prove  against  all  the 
snares  and  temptations  whereby  Satan  would 
draw  us  into  evil;  and  what  firm  ground  of 
confidence  would  it  afford  us  amidst  the  con- 
flicts we  sustain  from  the  workings  of  un- 
belief and  indwelling  sm !  I  long  for  more  of 


3G0 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  vii» 


that  faith  wliich  is  the  substance  of  thingrs 
hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  thinjrs  not 
Been,  that  I  may  be  preserved  humble,  thank- 
ful, watchful,  and  dependent.  To  behold  the 
g-lory  aid  the  love  of  Jesus,  is  the  only 
effectual  way  to  participate  of  his  imaf^e. 

We  are  to  set  out  to-night  from  the  inter- 
preter's house  towards  the  hill  Difficulty,  and 
hope  to  be  favoured  with  a  sight  of  the  cross 
by  the  way.  To  stand  at  the  foot  of  it,  with 
a  softened  heart  and  melting  eyes;  to  forget 
our  sins,  sorrows,  and  burdens,  while  we  are 
wholly  swallowed  up  in  the  contemplation  of 
him  who  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  upon 
the  tree,  is  certainly  the  most  desirable  situa- 
tion on  this  side  the  grave.  To  speak  of  it, 
and  to  see  it  by  the  light  of  the  Spirit,  are 
widely  different  things;  and  though  we  can- 
not always  enjoy  this  view,  yet  the  remem- 
brance of  what  we  have  seen  is  an  excellent 
means  of  encouragement  to  mount  the  hill, 
and  to  face  the  lions. 

I  believe  I  shall  hardly  find  leisure  to  fill 
my  paper  this  time.  It  is  now  Saturday 
evening,  and  growing  late.  I  am  just  re- 
turned from  a  serious  walk,  wOiich  is  my 
usual  nianner  of  closing  the  week,  when  the 
weather  is  fine.  I  endeavour  to  join  in  heart 
with  the  Lord's  ministers  and  people,  who 
are  seeking  a  blessing  on  to-morrow's  ordi- 
nances. At  such  times  I  especially  remem- 
ber those  friends  with  whom  I  have  gone  to 
the  house  of  the  Lord  in  company,  con- 
sequently you  are  not  forgot.  I  can  venture 
to  assure  you,  that  if  you  have  a  value  for 
our  prayers,  you  have  a  frequent  share  in 
them,  yea,  are  loved  and  remembered  by 
many  here ;  but  as  we  are  forgetful  creatures, 
I  hope  you  will  always  refresh  our  memory, 
and  quicken  our  prayers,  by  a  yearly  visit. 
Li  the  morning  I  shall  think  of  you  again. 
What  a  multitude  of  eyes  and  hearts  will  be 
directed  to  our  Redeemer  to-morrow!  He 
has  a  numerous  and  necessitous  family,  but 
he  is  rich  enough  to  supply  them  all,  and  his 
tender  compassions  extend  to  the  meanest 
and  most  unw^orthy.  Like  the  sun,  he  can 
cheer  and  enlighten  thousands  and  millions 
at  once,  and  give  to  each  as  bountifully  as  if 
there  were  no  more  to  partake  of  his  favour. 
His  best  blessings  are  not  diminished  by 
being  shared  among  many.  The  greatest 
earthly  monarch  would  soon  be  poor  if  he 
was  to  give  a  little  (though  but  a  little)  to 
all  his  subjects;  but  Jesus  has  unsearchable, 
inexhaustible  riches  of  grace  to  bestow.  The 
innumerable  assembly  before  the  throne  have 
been  all  supplied  from  his  fulness,  and  yet 
there  is  enough  and  to  spare  for  us  also,  and 
for  all  that  shall  come  after  us.  May  he  give 
us  an  eager  appetite,  a  hunger  and  thirst 
that  will  not  be  put  off  with  any  thing  short 
of  the  bread  of  life;  and  then  we  may  con- 
fidently open  our  mouths  wide,  for  he  has 
promised  to  fill  them. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  Vn. 


1773. 
Since  I  wrote  last,  the  Lord  has  been  gra- 
cious to  us  here.  He  crowned  the  last  year 
with  his  goodness,  and  renews  his  benefits  to 
us  every  day.  He  has  been  pleased  to  bless 
the  preaching  of  his  gospel  amongst  uy,  both 
to  consolation  and  conviction ;  and  several 
are,  I  hope,  earnestly  seeking  him,  who  were 
lately  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.      Dear 

Mr. was  released  from  all  his  complaints 

on  the  25th  of  November.  A  few  days  be- 
fore his  death  he  was  enabled  to  speak  more 
intelligibly  than  usual  for  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  expressed  a  comfortable  hope, 
which  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  us;  for 
though  we  had  not  the  least  doubt  of  his  bein^ 
built  upon  the  Rock,  it  was  to  us  an  answer 
to  prayer  that  he  could  again  speak  the 
language  of  faith;  and  much  prayer  had 
been  made  on  this  account,  especially  that 
very  evening.  After  that  night  he  spoke 
little,  and  hardly  took  any  notice,  but  con- 
tinued chiefly  drowsy  till  he  died.  I  preached 
his  funeral  sermon,  from  Lam.  iii.  31 — 33. 

Mrs.  L 's  complaint  grows  worse  and 

worse ;  she  suffers  much  in  her  body,  and  has 
much  more  perhaps  to  sufier:  but  her  con- 
solations in  the  Lord  abound.  He  enables 
her  to  maintain  faith,  patience,  and  submis- 
sion, in  an  exemplary  manner,  and  shows  us, 
in  his  dealings  w-ith  her,  that  he  is  all-suffi- 
cient and  faithful  to  those  who  put  their  trust 
in  him.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  had 
comfortable  seasons  while  at  Bath.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  great  mercy  that  God's  ordinances 
are  established  in  that  place  of  dissipation ; 
and  I  hope  many  who  go  there  with  no  higher 
view  than  to  drink  the  Bath  waters,  will  be 
brought  to  draw  w^ith  joy  the  waters  of  life 
from  those  wells  of  salvation.  He  does  no- 
thing in  vain,  and  when  he  affords  the  means, 
we  may  confidently  hope  he  will  bestow  the 
blessing.  The  dissipation  of  spirit  you  com- 
plain of,  when  you  are  in  a  strange  place,  is,. 
I  suppose,  felt  by  most,  if  not  by  all,  who  can 
be  satisfied  in  no  place  without  some  token 
of  the  Lord's  presence.  I  consider  it  rather- 
as  an  infirmity  than  a  sin,  strictly  speaking ; 
though  all  our  infirmities  are  sinful,  being 
the  effects  of  a  depraved  nature.  In  our 
present  circumstances  new  things  excite  new 
ideas,  and  when  our  usual  course  of  life  is 
broken  in  upon,  it  disjoints  and  unsettles  our 
thoughts.  It  is  a  proof  of  our  weakness;  it 
may,  and  ought  to  be,  lamented ;  but  I  believe- 
we  shall  not^get  the  better  of  it,  till  we  leave- 
the  mortal  body  to  moulder  into  dust.  Per- 
haps few  suffer  more  inconveniences  from 
this  article  than  myself,  which  is  one  reason 
why  I  love  home,  and  seldom  leave  it  without 
some  reluctance;  and  it  is  one  reason  why 
we  should  love  heaven,  and  long  for  the  hour 
when,  at  liberty  from  all  incumbrance^  we 


IBT.  Vlll.] 


LETTi:US  TO  AIRS. 


301 


shall  soc  tho  Ixird  without  a  vail,  and  serve 
him  without  districtinn.  The  I/jnl,  by  his 
providciico,  ^ecoiuJH  and  confirms  lh«'  doclura- 
tions  of  his  word  and  ministry.  Much  wo 
read  and  nuich  wo  hoar  concorninjr  tho  empti- 
ness, vanity,  and  uncertainty  of  tho  present 
state.  When  our  minds  are  enlijjhtened  by 
his  Holy  Spirit,  wo  receive  and  acknowled^^o 
what  Ins  word  declares  to  ho  truth ;  yet  if 
we  remain  lonjjf  without  chnufros,  ond  our 
path  is  very  smooth,  wo  are  for  tho  most  part 
but  faintly  atVected  with  what  wo  profess  to 
believe.  But  when  some  of  our  dearest 
friends  arc  taken  from  us,  the  lives  of  others 
threatened,  and  we  ourselves  are  brouj^htlow 
with  pain  and  sickness,  then  we  not  only  say, 
but  feel,  that  this  must  not,  cannot,  be  our 
rest.  Vou  have  had  several  exercises  of  this 
kind  of  late  in  your  family,  and  I  trust  you 
will  be  able  to  set  your  seal  to  that  gracious 
word.  That  though  attiictions  in  themselves 
are  not  joyous,  but  grievous,  yet  in  due  sea- 
son they  yield  the  peaceful  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness. Various  and  blessed  are  the  fruits  they 
produce.  By  attiiction  prayer  is  quickened, 
for  our  prayers  are  very  apt  to  grow  languid 
and  formal  in  a  time  of  ease.  Affliction 
greatly  helps  us  to  understand  the  scriptures, 
especially  the  promises,  most  of  which  being 
made  to  times  of  trouble,  we  cannot  so  well 
know  their  fulness,  sweetness,  and  certainty, 
as  when  we  have  been  in  the  situation  to 
which  they  are  suited,  have  been  enabled  to 
trust  and  plead  them,  and  found  them  fulfilled 
in  our  own  case.  We  are  usually  indebted 
to  affliction  as  the  means  or  occasion  of  the 
most  signal  discoveries  we  are  favoured  with 
of  the  wisdom,  power,  and  faithfulness  of  the 
Lord.  These  are  best  observed  by  the  evident 
proofs  we  have  that  he  is  near  to  support  us 
under  trouble,  and  that  he  can,  and  does, 
deliver  us  out  of  it.  Israel  would  not  have 
seen  so  much  of  the  Lord's  arm  outstretched 
in  their  behalf,  had  not  Pharaoh  oppressed, 
opposed,  and  pursued  them.  Afflictions  are 
designed  lilvewise  for  the  manifestation  of 
our  sincerity  to  ourselves  and  to  others. 
When  faith  endures  the  fire,  we  know  it  to 
be  of  the  right  kind;  and  others,  who  see 
we  are  brought  safe  out,  and  lose  nothing 
but  the  dross,  will  confess  that  God  is  with  us 
of  a  truth,  Dan.  iii.  27,  28.  Surely  this 
thought  should  reconcile  us  to  suffer,  not 
only  with  patience,  but  with  cheerfulness,  if 
God  may  be  glorified  in  us.  This  made  the 
apostle  rejoice  in  tribulation,  that  the  power 
of  Christ  might  be  noticed,  as  resting  upon 
him,  and  working  mightily  in  him.  Many 
of  our  graces,  likewise,  cannot  thrive  or  show 
themselves  to  advantage  without  trials,  such 
as  resignation,  patience,  meekness,  long- 
suffering.  I  observe  some  of  the  London 
porters  do  not  appear  to  be  very  strong  men, 
yet  they  will  trudge  along  under  a  burden 
which  some  stouter  people  could  not  carry 
2Z 


80  well ;  tho  reason  is  that  they  ore  nrru«- 
tome<l  to  carry  burd«*nM,  and  by  contmuol 
exercise  their  shoulders  acquire  a  Ktrenp^th 
suited  to  their  work.  It  i.s  n)  in  the  christian 
life;  activity  and  strength  of  graro  '\n  not 
ordinarily  acciuired  by  those  who  sit  stdl  ond 
live  at  ease,  but  by  those  who  frecjiiently 
meet  with  something  which  re(iuireH  a  full 
exertion  of  what  ]K)wer  tho  Lord  has  given 
them.  So  again,  it  is  by  our  own  suf!ering8 
we  learn  to  pity  and  sympathize  with  others 
in  their  sufierings;  such  a  compassionate 
disposition,  whicli  excites  our  feelings  for 
the  afflicted,  is  an  eminent  branch  of  the 
mind  which  was  in  Christ.  But  these  feelings 
would  be  very  faint,  if  we  did  not  in  our  ex- 
perience know  what  sorrows  and  temptations 
mean.  Afflictions  do  us  good  likewise,  as 
they  make  us  more  acquainted  with  what  is 
in  our  own  hearts,  and  thereby  promote 
humiliation  and  self-abasement.  There  are 
abominations  which,  like  nests  of  vipens  He 
so  quietly  within,  that  we  hardly  suspect  they 
are  there,  till  the  rod  of  affliction  rouses  them: 
then  they  hiss  and  show  their  venom.  J'his 
discovery  is,  indeed,  very  distressing;  yet, 
till  it  is  made,  we  are  prone  to  think  ourselves 
much  less  vile  than  we  really  are,  and  cannot 
so  heartily  abhor  ourselves,  and  repent  hi  dust 
and  ashes. 

But  I  must  WTite  a  sermon  rather  than  a 
letter,  if  I  would  enumerate  all  the  good  fruits 
which,  by  the  power  of  sanctifying  grace,  are 
produced  from  this  bitter  tree.  May  we, 
under  our  several  trials,  find  them  all  reveal- 
ed in  ourselves,  that  we  may  not  complain  of 
having  suffered  in  vain.  While  we  have  such 
a  depraved  nature,  and  live  in  such  a  pollut- 
ed world;  while  the  roots  of  pride,  vanity, 
self-dependence,  self-seeking,  are  so  strong 
within  us,  we  need  a  variety  of  sharp  dispen- 
sations to  keep  us  from  forgetting  ourselves, 
and  from  cleaving  to  the  dust. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VIIL 

1774. 

The  very  painful  illness  which  Mrs. 

so  long  endured,  had,  doubtless,  not  only  pre- 
pared you  to  expect  the  news  of  her  dismis- 
sion, but  made  you  more  willing  to  resign 
her.  You  are  bereaved  of  a  valuable  friend; 
but  life  in  her  circumstances  was  burdensome ; 
and  who  can  be  sorry  to  consider  her  now  as 
freed  from  all  suffering,  and  possessed  of  all 
happiness]  But,  besides  this,  l.trust  the  Lord 
has  favoured  you  with  an  habitual  sense  of 
the  wisdom  and  propriety  of  all  his  appoint- 
ments; so  that  when  his  will  is  manifested 
by  the  event,  you  are  enabled  to  say,  "  All 
is  w^ell."  "  I  was  dumb,  and  opened  not  my 
mouth,  because  thou  didst  it."  She  is  but 
gone  a  little  before  you ;  and  afler  a  few  more 


LETTERS  TO  MRS. 


[let.  viil 


changes,  you  will  meet  her  again  to  un- 
speakable advantage,  and  rejoice  together 
before  the  throne  for  ever.  There  every 
tear  will  be  wiped  away,  and  you  shall  weep 
no  more.  The  Lord  could  have  prevented 
the  cause  of  her  great  sufferings;  but  I 
doubt  not  he  afflicted  her  in  wisdom  and 
mercy :  he  could  easily  have  restored  her  to 
health  ;  but  the  time  was  hastening  when  he 
purposed  to  have  her  with  him  where  he  is, 
that  she  might  behold  his  glory,  and  have  all 
the  desires  he  put  into  her  heart  abundantly 
satisfied.  Precious  in  his  sight  is  the  death 
of  his  saints,  and  every  circumstance  is  un- 
der the  direction  of  infinite  wisdom.  His 
sovereignty  forbids  us  to  say,  Why  hast  thou 
done  this  ?  and  his  love  assures  us  that  he 
does  all  things  well.  I  have  lost  a  friend 
likewise.  I  believe  I  may  say  few  persons 
not  immediately  related  to  her,  could  value 
her  more  highly  than  myself;  and  though  of 
late  years  I  could  not  have  the  pleasure  of 
her  company,  it  was  a  constant  satisfaction 
to  me  to  know  I  had  such  a  friend. 

Mr.  T 's  sickness  and  death  followed 

imn#diately  upon  this  stroke.  I  doubt  not 
but  you  have  been  much  affected  with  this 
dispensation  likewise.  But  here  again  we 
have  the  same  stronghold  to  retreat  to :  the 
Lord  has  done  it.  What  a  pleasing  prospect 
of  increasing  usefulness  is  now  interrupted ! 
How  many  will  mourn  his  loss !  Yet  we  are 
sure  the  work  which  the  Lord  had  appointed 
him  was  finished.  They  who  loved  his  mi-_ 
nistry,  and  were  profited  by  it,  are  letl,  appa- 
rently destitute;  but  Jesus,  the  good  Shep- 
herd, is  able  to  take  care  of  his  own,  and  will 
fulfil  his  promise  to  them  all.  He  has  said, 
Verily  they  shall  be  fed. 

We  have  had  trying  and  dying  times  here; 
half  my  time  almost  has  been  taken  up  with 
visiting  the  sick.  I  have  seen  death  in  a  variety 
of  forms,  and  have  had  frequent  occasion  of 
observing  how  insignificant  many  things  which 
are  now  capable  of  giving  us  pain  or  plea- 
sure, will  appear,  when  the  soul  is  brought 
near  to  the  borders  of  eternity.  All  the  con- 
cerns which  relate  solely  to  this  life,  will  then 
be  found  as  trivial  as  the  traces  of  a  dream 
from  which  we  are  awakened.  Nothing  will 
then  comfort  us  but  the  knowledge  of  Jesus 
and  his  love  ;  nothing  grieve  us  but  the  re- 
membrance of  our  untaithful  carriage  to  him, 
and  what  poor  returns  we  made  to  his  abund- 
ant goodness.  The  Lord  forbid  that  this 
thought  should  break  our  peace !  No,  faith  in 


his  name  may  forbid  our  fear,  though  we  shall 
see  and  confess  we  have  been  unprofitable 
servants.  There  shall  be  no  condemnation 
to  them  that  are  in  him ;  but  surely  shame 
and  humiliation  will  accompany  us  to  the 
very  threshold  of  heaven,  and  ought  to  do  so. 
I  surely  shall  then  be  more  affected  than  I 
am  now  with  the  coolness  of  my  love,  the 
faintness  of  my  zeal,  the  vanity  of  my  heart, 
and  my  undue  attachment  to  the  things  of 
time.  O  these  clogs,  fetters,  vales,  and 
mountains,  which  obstruct  my  course,  darken 
my  views,  slacken  my  pace,  and  disable  me 
in  service.  Well  it  is  for  me  that  I  am  not 
ander  the  law,  but  under  grace. 

To-morrow  is  the  Sabbath.  I  am  usually- 
glad  when  it  returns,  though  it  seldom  finds 
me  in  that  frame  of  mind  which  I  would  de- 
sire. But  it  is  my  happiness  to  live  amongst 
many  who  count  the  hours  from  one  ordinance 
to  another.  I  know  they  pray  that  I  may  be 
a  messenger  of  peace,  and  an  instrument  of 
good  to  their  souls ;  and  I  have  cause  to  hope 
their  prayers  are  in  a  measure  answered.  For 
their  sakes,  as  much  as  my  own,  I  am  glad  to 
go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord.  O  that  in 
watering  others,  I  may  be  also  watered  my- 
self! I  have  been  praying  that  to-morrow 
may  be  a  day  of  power  with  you  and  with  us, 
and  with  all'that  love  Jesus  in  sincerity ;  that 
we  may  see  his  glory,  and  taste  his  love  in 
the  sanctuary.  When  it  is  thus,  the  Sabbath 
is  a  blessed  day  indeed,  an  earnest  of  heaven. 
There  they  keep  an  everlasting  Sabbath, 
and  cease  not  night  or  day  admiring  the 
riches  of  redeeming  love,  and  adoring  him 
who  washed  his  people  from  their  sins  in  his 
own  blood.  To  have  such  imperfect  commu- 
nion with  them  as  is  in  this  state  attainable  in 
this  pleasing  exercise  is  what  alone  can  make 
life  worth  the  name.  For  this  I  sigh  and 
long  and  cry  to  the  Lord  to  rend  the  vail  of 
unbelief,  scatter  the  clouds  of  ignorance,  and 
break  do\\-n  the  walls  which  sin  is  daily 
building  up  to  hide  him  from  my  eyes.  I 
hope  I  can  say,  my  soul  is  athirst  for  God, 
and  nothing  less  than  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance can  satisfy  me.  Blessed  be  his 
name  for  the  desire ;  it  is  his  own  gift,  and 
he  never  gives  it  in  vain.  He  will  afford  us 
a  taste  of  the  water  of  life  by  the  way  ;  and 
ere  long  we  shall  drink  abundantly  at  the 
fountain  head,  and  have  done  with  complaint 
for  ever.  May  we  be  thankful  for  what  we 
receive,  and  still  earnestly  desirous  of  more 
— I  am,  &-C. 


LETTERS 

TO  MISS  D 


LETTER  I. 

Auifust  — ,  1772. 
T  DEAR   MISS, — The   Lord  brought  us 

home  in  peace.     My  visit  to  was 

agreeable,  and  I  shall  often  think  of  it  with 
pleasure,  though  the  deadness  and  dryness 
of  my  own  spirit  a  good  part  of  the  time  I 
was  there  proved  a  considerable  abatement. 
I  am  eager  enough  to  converse  with  the 
Lord's  people,  when  at  the  same  time  I  am 
backward  and  indisposed  to  communion  with 
the  I^rd  himself  The  two  evils  charged 
upon  Israel  of  old,  a  proneness  to  forsake  the 
fountain  of  living  waters  and  to  trust  to  bro- 
ken cisterns  (which  can  do  me  no  good  un- 
less he  supplies  them,)  run  through  the  whole 
of  my  experience  abroad  and  at  home.  A 
few  drops  of  grace  in  my  fellow  worms  en- 
dear them  to  me  exceedingly.  If  I  expect 
to  see  any  christian  frfends,  I  count  the 
hours  till  we  meet,  and  promise  myself  great 
benefit ;  but  if  the  Lord  withdraws  his  in- 
fluence, the  best  of  them  prove  to  me  but 
clouds  without  water.  It  was  not,  however, 
wholly  so  with  me  all  the  time  I  staid  with 
my  friends,  but  I  suffer  much  in  learning  to 
depend  upon  the  Lord  alone.  I  have  been 
at  this  lesson  many  a  long  year,  but  am  so 
poor  and  dull  a  scholar,  that  I  have  not  yet 
made  any  tolerable  progress  in  it.  I  think 
I  received  some  instruction  and  advantage 
where  I  little  expected  it;  I  mean  at  Mr. 
Cox's  Museum.  The  efforts  of  his  ingenuity 
amazed  me,  while  at  the  same  time  I  was 
struck  with  their  insignificance.  His  fine 
things  were  curious  beyond  all  that  I  had 
any  idea  of;  and  yet,  what  are  they  better 
than  toys  and  amusement,  suited  to  the  taste 
of  children !  And  notwithstanding  the  va- 
riety of  their  motions  they  were  all  destitute 
of  life.  There  is  unspeakably  more  wisdom 
and  contrivance  in  the  mechanism  of  a  but- 
terfly or  a  bee,  that  flies  unnoticed  in  the 
fields,  than  in  all  his  apparatus  put  together. 
But  the  works  of  God  are  disregarded,  while 


the  feeble  imitations  of  them  which  men  caa 
produce  gain  universal  applause. 

If  you  and  I  could  make  self-moving  dra- 
gons and  elephants,  what  would  it  profit  us? 
Blessed  be  God,  that  he  has  given  us  some 
glimpses  of  his  wisdom  and  love,  by  which 
our  hearts,  more  hard  and  lifeless  by  nature 
than  the  stones  in  the  streets,  are  constrain- 
ed and  enabled  to  move  upwards,  and  to 
seek  after  the  Lord  He  has  given  us  in  his 
word  a  greater  treasure  than  all  that  we 
ever  beheld  with  our  eyes,  and  a  hope  which 
shall  flourish  when  the  earth  and  all  its 
works  shall  be  burnt  up.  What  will  all  the 
fine  things  of  men's  device  be  worth  in  that 
day] 

I  think  the  passage  you  refer  to  in  Mr. 

justly  exceptionable.     His  intention  is 

good,  and  the  mistake  he  would  censure  very 
dangerous,  but  he  might  have  explained  him- 
self more  clearly.  I  apprehend  he  and  you 
do  not  mean  the  same  thing  by  being  in  the 
dark.  It  is  not  an  uncomfortable,  but  a 
careless  frame  which  he  would  censure.  They 
who  walk  in  darkness  and  see  no  light,  and 
yet  are  exhorted  to  stay  themselves  upon  God 
(Isa.  1.  10,)  are  said  to  hearken  to  the  voice 
of  his  servant.  Though  they  cannot  see  the 
Lord,  they  are  seeking  and  mourning  after 
him,  and  waiting  in  the  use  of  means,  and 

warring  against  sin.     Mr. had  another 

set  of  people  in  view,  who  trust  in  the  no- 
tions of  gospel-truth,  or  some  past  convictions 
and  comforts,  though  at  present  they  give  no 
evidence  of  spiritual  desires,  but  are  worldly 
in  their-spirit  and  conversation  ;  talk  of  trust- 
ing in  the  Lord ;  account  it  a  weakness  to 
doubt  of  their  state,  and  think  all  is  well  be- 
cause they  profess  to  believe  the  doctrines  of 
grace.  In  a  word,  it  is  the  darkness  of  sin 
and  sloth  against  which  his  observation  is 
pointed.  Or  if,  indeed,  he  meant  more  than 
this,  we  are  not  obliged  to  believe  him.  Re- 
member your  privilege;  you  have  the  Bible 
in  your  hands,  and  are  not  bound  to  follow 
books  or  preachers  anv  farther  than  what 
363 


364 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  D- 


thoy  deliver  ao^rees  with  tlic  oracles  of  truth. 
We  have  groat  reason  to  be  thankful  fertile 
instructions  and  writin^^s  of  spiritual  men, 
but  they  are  all  fallible  even  as  ourselves. 
One  is  our  master,  even  Christ :  what  he 
says  we  are  to  receive  implicitly;  but  we 
do  not  owe  implicit  subjection  to  the  best  of 
our  fellow-creatures.  The  Bereans  were 
commended  that  they  would  not  take  even 
the  apostle  l^aul  upon  trust,  but  searched  the 
scriptures  to  see  wiiether  these  things  were 
so.  May  the  Lord  give  us  a  spirit  of  hu- 
mility and  discernment  in  all  things! — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  IL 

May  4,  1773. 
Methinks  it  is  high  time  to  ask  you  how 
you  do,  to  thank  you  for  your  last  letter,  and 
to  let  you  know,  that  though  necessity  makes 
me  slack  in  writing,  yet  I  can  and  do  often 
think  of  you.  My  silence  has  sometimes  been 
owing  to  want  of  leisure;  and  sometimes 
when  I  could  have  found  leisure,  my  harp 
has  been  out  of  tune,  and  I  had  no  heart  to 
write.  Perhaps  you  are  ready  to  infer,  by 
my  sitting  down  to  write  at  last,  that  my  harp 
is  now  well-tuned,  and  I  have  something  ex- 
traordinary to  offer  :  beware  of  thinking  so, 
lest  you  should  be  sadly  disappointed.  Should 
I  make  myself  the  subject,  I  could  give  you 
at  present  but  a  mournful  ditty.  I  suppose 
you  have  heard  I  have  been  ill :  through 
mercy  I  am  now  well.  But  indeed  I  must 
farther  tell  you,  that  when  I  was  sick  I  was 
well ;  and  since  the  Lord  has  removed  my 
illness,  I  have  been  much  worse.  My  illness 
was  far  from  violent  in  itself,  and  was  greatly 
sweetened  by  a  calm  submissive  frame  the 
Lord  gave  me  under  it.  My  heart  seemed 
more  alive  to  him  then  than  it  has  done  since 
my  cough,  fever,  and  deafness  have  been 
removed.  Shall  I  give  you  another  bit  of 
a  riddle,  that,  notwithstanding  the  many 
changes  I  pass  through,  I  am  always  the 
same  ]  This  is  the  very  truth :  "  In  me,  that 
is,  in  my  flesh,  dwelleth  no  good  thing ;"  so 
that,  if  sometimes  my  spirit  is  in  a  measure 
humble,  lively,  and  dependent,  it  is  not  be- 
cause I  am  grown  better  than  I  was,  but  the 
Lord  is  pleased  to  put  forth  his  gracious 
power  in  my  weakness ;  and  when  my  heart 
is  dry  and  stupid,  when  I  can  find  no  pleasure 
in  waiting  upon  God,  it  is  not  because  1  am 
worse  than  I  was  before,  but  only  the  Lord 
sees  it  best  that  I  should  feel  as  well  as  say 
what  a  poor  creature  I  am.  My  heart  wa^ 
once  like  a  dungeon,  out  of  the  reach  of  day, 
and  always  dark :  the  Lord,  by  his  grace, 
has  been  pleased  to  make  this  dungeon  a 
room,  by  putting  windows  in  it ;  but  I  need 
not  tell  you,  that  though  windows  will  trans- 


— .  [let.  II. 

mit  the  day-light  into  a  room,  they  cannot 
supply  the  want  of  it.  When  the  day  ia 
gone,  windows  are  of  little  use :  when  the 
day  returns,  the  room  is  enlightened  by  them 
again.  Thus,  unless  the  Lord  shines,  I  can- 
not retain  to-day  the  light  I  had  yesterday ; 
and  though  his  presence  makes  a  deligjitfui 
difference,  I  have  no  more  to  boast  of  in  my- 
self at  one  time  than  another ;  yet  when  it  is 
dark,  I  am  warranted  to  expect  the  return  of 
light  again.  When  he  is  with  me,  all  goes 
on  pleasantly ;  when  he  withdraws,  I  find  1 
can  do  nothing  without  him.  1  need  not 
wonder  that  I  find  it  so,  for  it  must  be  so  of 
course,  if  I  am  what  I  confess  myself  to  be, 
a  poor,  helpless,  sinful  creature  in  myself. 
Nor  need  I  be  over-much  discouraged,  since 
the  Lord  has  promised  to  help  those  who  can 
do  nothing  without  him,  not  those  who  can 
make  a  tolerable  shift  to  help  themselves. 
Through  mercy  he  does  not  so  totally  with- 
draw, as  to  leave  me  without  any  power  or 
will  to  cry  for  his  return.  I  hope  he  main- 
tains in  me  at  all  times  a  desire  of  his  pre- 
sence ;  yet  it  becomes  me  to  wait  for  him 
with  patience,  and  to  live  upon  his  faithful- 
ness, when  I  can  feel  nothing  but  evil  in 
myself 

In  your  letter,  afler  having  complained  of 
your  inability,  you  say,  you  converse  with 
many  who  find  it  otherwise,  who  can  go 
whenever  they  will  to  the  Father  of  merciea 
with  a  child-like  confidence,  and  never  return 
without  an  answer,  an  answer  of  peace.  If 
they  only  mean  that  they  are  favoured  with 
an  established  faith,  and  can  see  that  the 
Lord  is  always  the  same,  and  that  their  right 
to  the  blessings  of  the  covenant  is  not  at  all 
affected  by  their  un worthiness,  I  wish  yoii 
and  I  had  more  experience  of  the  same  pri- 
vilege. In  general,  tlie  Lord  helps  me  U 
aim  at  it,  though  I  find  it  sometimes  difficult 
to  hold  fast  my  confidence.  But  if  they  speak 
absolutely  with  respect  to  their  frames,  that 
they  not  only  have  something  to  support 
them  under  their  changes,  but  meet  with  no 
chantres  that  require  such  support,  I  must 
say,  it  is  well  that  they  do  not  live  here ;  if 
they  did,  they  would  not  know  how  to  pity 
us,  and  we  should  not  know  how  to  under- 
stand them.     We  have  an  enemy  at 

that  fights  against  our  peace,  and  I  know  not 
one  amongst  us  but  oflen  groans  under  the 
warfare.  I  advise  you  not  to  be  troubled  by 
what  you  hearof  other  folks'  experience,  but 
keep  close  to  the  written  word,  where  you 
will  meet  with  much  to  encourage  you, 
though  you  oflen  feel  yourself  weary  and 
heavy  laden.  For  my  own  part,  I  like 
that  path  best  which  is  well  beaten  by 
the  foot-steps  of  the  flock,  though  it  is 
not  ahvays  pleasant,  and  strewed  with 
flowers.  In  our  way,  we  find  some  hills, 
from  whence  we  can  cheerfully  look  about 
us;  but  we  meet  with  deep  valleys  like- 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  D- 


966 


wiso,   nnil    solilom    travel    lon^^  upon   even 
ground. — I  am,  &ic. 


LETTER  III. 


1775. 


I  AM  satisfied  with  your  answer  to  my 
question :  we  arc  not  proper  judf^es  of  each 
other's  circumstances,  and  i  am  in  some 
measure  weaned  from  judfjins^  hastily,  that 
what  would  not  be  convenient  for  me,  must 
therefore  necessarily  be  wrong  for  another. 
However,  my  solicitude  for  your  welfare 
made  me  venture  to  drop  a  hint,  as  I  was 
persuaded  you  would  take  it  in  good  part. 
Indeed,  all  situations  and  circumstances  (sup- 
posinor  them  not  sinful  in  themselves,  and 
that  we  are  lawfully  placed  in  them)  are 
nearly  alike.  In  London  I  am  in  a  crowd  ; 
in  the  country  I  am  sure  there  is  a  crowd  in 
me.  To  what  purix)se  do  I  boast  of  retire- 
ment, when  I  am  pestered  by  a  legion  in 
every  place  1  How  oflen,  when  I  am  what 
I  call  alone,  may  my  mind  be  compared  to  a 
puppet-show,  a  fair,  a  Newgate,  or  any  of 
those  scenes  where  folly,  noise,  and  wicked- 
ness most  abound  ?  On  the  contrary,  some- 
times I  have  enjoyed  sweet  recollection  and 
composure  where  I  could  have  hardly  ex- 
pected it.  But  still,  though  the  power  be  all 
of  the  Lord,  and  we  of  ourselves  can  do 
nothing,  it  is  both  our  duty  and  our  wisdom 
to  be  attentive  to  the  use  of  appointed  means 
on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  watchful 
against  those  things  which  we  find,  by  ex- 
perience, have  a  tendency  to  damp  our 
fervour,  or  to  dissipate  our  spirits.  A  com- 
fortable intimacy  with  a  fellow-worm  cannot 
te  maintained  without  a  certain  delicacy  and 
circumspection,  a  studiousness  in  improving 
opportunities  of  pleasing,  and  in  avoiding 
what  is  known  to  be  offensive.  For  though 
love  will  make  large  allowances  for  involun- 
tary mistakes,  it  cannot  easily  brook  a  slight. 
We  act  thus  as  it  were  by  instinct  towards 
those  whom  we  dearly  love,  and  to  whom  we 
feel  ourselves  greatly  obliged :  and  happy  are 
they  who  are  most  influenced  by  this  senti- 
ment in  their  walk  before  the  Lord.  But, 
alas !  here  we  are  chargeable  with  such  in- 
consistencies as  we  should  be  greatly  ashamed 
of  in  common  life.  And  well  it  is  for  us  that 
the  Lord's  thoughts  and  ways  are  above  ours, 
and  that  he  is  infinite  in  mercy  as  well  as  in 
power ;  for  surely  our  dearest  friends  would 
have  been  weary  of  us,  and  have  renounced 
us  long  ago,  had  we  behaved  to  them  as  we 
have  too  often  done  to  him.  He  is  God,  and 
not  man,  and  therefore  he  still  waits  to  be 
gracious,  though  we  have  so  often  trifled  with 
him.  Surely  we  may  well  say  with  the 
prophet,  "  Who  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that 
j)ardoneth  iniquity !"  His  tenderness  and  for- 


bearance towards  hiHown  people  (whoso  gins 

being  coinmillcd  ngiiiiisl  love,  iind  light,  and 
e.vpcrii'ncc,  are  more  aggrnvutcd  limn  othcrH) 
is  astonishing  indeed.  Hut  oh  !  may  the  timoH 
past  Huflicc  to  have  grieved  his  Spirit,  and 
may  wo  be  enabled  from  h«'nfej()rlli  to  Kcrvo 
him  with  a  single  eye  and  a  simple  he»rt,  to 
be  faithful  to  every  intimation  of  his  will,  and 
to  make  him  our  all  in  all ! 

Mr. has  been  here,  and  I  have  been 

with  him  at since  his  return.    We  seem 

glad  to  be  together  when  we  can.  When  I 
am  with  him,  I  feel  quite  at  iiome  and  at 
ease,  and  can  tell  him  (so  far  as  I  dare  tell  a 
creature)  all  that  is  in  my  heart;  a  plain  proof 
that  union  of  spirit  depends  no  more  upon  an 
exact  uniformity  of  sentiment  than  on  a  uni- 
formity of  prayers;  for  in  some  points  of 
doctrine  we  differ  considerably  ;  but  I  trust  I 
agree  with  him  in  the  views  I  have  of  the  ex- 
cellency, suitableness,  and  sufficiency  of  the 
Saviour,  and  of  his  right  to  reign  without  a 
rival  in  the  hearts  of  his  redeemed  people. 
An  experimental  knowledge  of  Jesus,  as  the 
deliverer  from  sin  and  wrath,  and  the  author 
of  eternal  life  and  salvation  to  all  who  are  en- 
abled to  believe,  is  a  sufficient  ground  for 
union  of  heart.  In  this  point  all  who  are 
taught  of  God  are  of  one  mind.  But  an 
eager  fighting  for  or  against  those  points 
which  are  usually  made  the  subject  of  con- 
troversy, tends  to  nourish  pride  and  evil 
tempers  in  ourselves,  and  to  alienate  our 
hearts  from  those  we  hope  to  spend  an  eternity 
with.  In  heaven,  we  shall  neither  be  Dis- 
senters, Moravians,  nor  Methodists;  neither 
Calvinists  nor  Arrninians ;  but  followers  of 
the  Lamb,  and  children  of  the  kingdom. 
There  we  shall  hear  the  voice  of  war  no  more. 

We  are  still  favoured  with  health  and 
many  temporal  blessings.  INIy  spiritual  walk 
is  not  so  smooth  as  my  outward  path.  In 
public  I  am  mercifully  supported  ;  in  secret 
I  most  sensibly  feel  my  own  vileness  and 
weakness ;  but  through  all  the  Lord  is  gra- 
cious.— I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

January  10,  1775. 
There  is  hardly  any  thing  in  which  the 
Lord  permits  me  to  meet  with  more  disap- 
pointment, than  in  the  advantage  I  am  ready 
to  promise  myself  from  creature-converse. 
When  I  expect  to  meet  any  of  my  christian 
friends,  my  thoughts  usually  travel  much 
faster  than  my  body ;  I  anticipate  the  hour 
of  meeting,  and  my  imagination  is  warmed 
with  the  expectation  of  what  I  shall  say  and 
what  I  shall  hear;  and  sometimes  I  have 
bad  seasons  for  which  I  ought  to  be  more 
thankful  than  I  am.  It  is  pleasant,  indeed, 
when  the  Lord  favours  us  with  a  happy  hour, 


366 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  D- 


and  is  pleased  to  cause  our  hearts  to  burn 
within  us  while  we  are  speaking  of  his  good- 
ness. But  often  it  is  far  otherwise  with  me: 
I  carry  with  me  a  dissipation  of  spirit,  and 
find  that  I  can  neither  impart  nor  receive. 
Something  from  within  or  from  without 
crosses  my  schemes;  and  wlien  I  retire  I 
seem  to  have  gained  nothing  but  a  fresh 
conviction,  that  we  can  neither  help  nor  be 
helped,  unless  the  Lord  himself  is  pleased  to 
help  us.  With  his  presence  in  our  hearts, 
we  might  be  comfortable  and  happy  though 
shut  up  in  one  of  the  cells  of  Newgate:  with- 
out it,  the  most  select  company,  the  most 
desirable  opportunities,  prove  but  clouds 
without  water. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  of  asking  you, 
whether  you  find  that  difference  between  be- 
ing abroad  and  at  home  that  I  do?  But  I 
take  it  for  granted  that  you  do  not:  your 
connexions  and  intimacies  are,  I  believe, 
chiefly  with  those  who  are  highly  favoured 
of  the  Lord,  and  if  you  can  break  through 
or  be  upon  your  guard  against  the  inconve- 
niencies  which  attend  frequent  changes  and 
much  company,  you  must  be  very  happy  in 
them.  But,  I  believe,  considering  my  weak- 
ness, the  Lord  has  chosen  wisely  and  well 
for  me,  in  placing  me  in  a  state  of  retire- 
ment, and  not  putting  it  in  my  power,  were 
it  ever  so  much  my  inclination,  to  be  often 
abroad.  As  I  stir  so  seldom,  I  believe,  when 
I  do,  it  is  not  upon  the  whole  to  my  disad- 
vantage ;  for  I  meet  with  more  or  less  upon 
which  my  reflections  afterwards  may,  by  his 
blessing,  be  useful  to  me,  though  at  the  time 
my  visits  most  frequently  convince  me,  how 
little  wisdom  or  skill  I  have  in  improving 
time  and  opportunities.  But  were  I  to  live 
in  London,  I  know  not  what  might  be  the 
consequence.  Indeed,  I  need  not  puzzle  my- 
self about  it,  as  my  call  does  not  lie  there  ; 
but  I  pity  and  pray  for  those  who  do  live 
there,  and  I  admire  such  of  them  as,  in 
those  circumstances  which  appear  so  formi- 
dable to  me,  are  enabled  to  walk  simply, 
humbly,  and  closely  with  the  Lord.  They 
remind  me  of  Daniel,  unhurt  in  the  midst 
of  lions,  or  of  the  bush  which  Moses  saw 
surrounded  with  flames,  yet  not  consumed, 
because  the  Lord  was  there.  Some  such  I  do 
know,  and  I  hope  you  are  one  of  the  number. 
This  is  certain,  that  if  the  light  of  God's 
countenance,  and  communion  with  him  in 
love,  afford  the  greatest  happiness  we  are 
capable  of,  then  whatever  tends  to  indispose 
us  for  this  pursuit,  or  to  draw  a  vail  between 
him  and  our  souls,  must  be  our  great  loss. 
If  we  walk  with  him,  it  must  be  in  the  path 
of  duty,  which  lies  plain  before  us  when  our 
eye  is  single,  and  we  are  waiting  with  atten- 
tion upon  his  word,  Spirit,  and  providence. 
Now,  wherever  the  path  of  duty  leads  we  are 
safe;  and  it  often  does  lead  and  place  us  in 
such  circumstances  as  no  other  consideration  | 


-.  [let.  v. 

would  make  us  choose.  We  were  not  de- 
signed to  be  mere  recluses,  but  have  all  a 
part  to  act  in  life.  Now,  if  I  find  myself  in 
the  midst  of  things  disagreeable  enough  in 
themselves  to  the  spiritual  life,  yet — if,  when 
the  question  occurs,  What  dost  thou  here  1 
my  heart  can  answer,  I  am  here  by  the  will 
of  God, — I  believe  it  to  be,  all  things  consi- 
dered, my  duty  to  be  here  at  this  time  rather 
than  elsewhere.  If,  I  say,  I  am  tolerably 
satisfied  of  this,  then  I  would  not  burden  and 
grieve  myself  about  what  I  cannot  avoid  or 
alter,  but  endeavour  to  take  all  such  things 
up  with  cheerfulness,  as  a  part  of  my  daily 
cross;  since  I  am  called,  not  only  to  do  the 
will  of  God,  but  to  sufl^er  for  it ;  but  if  I  am 
doing  my  own  will  rather  than  his,  then  I 
have  reason  to  fear,  lest  I  should  meet  with 
either  a  snare  or  a  sting  at  every  step.  May 
the  Lord  Jesus  be  with  you. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

April  13,  1776. 

DEAR  MADAM,— I  am  rather  of  the  latest 
to  present  my  congratulations  to  you  and 

Mr. on  your  marriage,  but  I  have  not 

been  unmindful  of  you.  My  heart  has  re- 
peatedly wished  you  all  that  my  pen  can  ex- 
press, that  the  new  relation  in  which  the 
providence  of  God  has  placed  you  may  be 
blessed  to  you  in  every  respect,  may  aJSbrd 
you  much  temporal  comfort,  promote  your 
spiritual  progress,  and  enlarge  your  sphere 
of  usefulness  in  the  world  and  in  the  church. 

By  this  time  I  suppose  visits  and  ceremo- 
nies are  pretty  well  over,  and  you  are  be- 
ginning to  be  settled  in  your  new  situation. 
What  an  important  period  is  a  wedding-day  I 
What  an  entire  change  of  circumstances 
does  it  produce!  What  an  influence  it  has 
upon  every  day  of  future  life !  How  many 
cares,  inquietudes,  and  trials,  does  it  expose 
us  to,  which  we  might  otherwise  have  avoid- 
ed! But  they  who  love  the  Lord,  and  are 
guided  by  his  word  and  providence,  have  no- 
thing to  fear;  for  in  every  state,  relation, 
and  circumstance  in  life,  he  will  be  with 
them,  and  will  surely  do  them  good.  His 
grace,  which  is  needful  in  a  single,  is  suffi- 
cient for  a  married  life.     I  sincerely  wish 

Mr. and  you  much  happiness  together; 

that  you  may  be  mutually  helps  meet,  and 
assist  each  other  in  walking  as  fellow-heirs 
of  the  hope  of  eternal  life.  Your  cares  and 
trials,  I  know,  must  be  increased ;  may  your 
comforts  be  increased  proportionally  !  They 
will  be  so,  if  you  are  enabled  heartily  and 
simply  to  entreat  the  Lord  to  keep  your 
heart  fixed  near  to  himself  All  the  tempo- 
ral blessings  and  accommodations  he  pro- 
vides to  sweeten  life,  and  make  our  passage 
through  this  wilderness  more  agreeable,  will 


f.KT.  v.] 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  !>■ 


367 


fail  ami  disnppoint  us  and  produce  us  more 
thorns  tliiin  n>s(>s,  unl(\><s  \vi»  can  keep  sijrlit 
of  his  hand  in  brstowin;,'  thoin,  and  lK)ld  and 
use  tho  jjitls  in  somo  duo  subserviency  to 
what  wo  owe  to  the  piver.  But  alas !  we 
are  p<x)r  creatures,  prone  to  wander,  prone 
to  adujire  our  ijourds,  cleave  to  our  cisterns, 
and  think  of  buildin<x  tabernacles,  and  takinj^ 
our  rest  in  this  jK)lluted  world.  Hence  the 
Lord  often  sees  it  necessary,  in  mercy  to  his 
children,  to  embitter  their  sweets,  to  break 
their  cisterns,  to  send  a  worm  to  their  jjourds, 
and  to  draw  a  dark  cloud  over  their  most 
pleasin<»-  prospects.  His  word  tells  us,  that 
all  here  is  vanity,  compared  with  the  light 
of  his  countenance ;  and  if  we  cannot,  or 
will  not,  believe  it  upon  the  authority  of  his 
word,  we  must  learn  it  by  experience.  May 
he  enable  you  to  settle  it  in  your  hearts,  that 
creature-comforts  are  precarious,  insufficient, 
and  ensnarinsr;  that  all  good  comes  from  his 
hand,  and  that  nothing  can  do  us  good,  but 
so  far  as  he  is  pleased  to  make  it  the  instru- 
ment of  communicating,  as  a  stream,  that 
goodness  which  is  in  him  as  a  fountain. 
Even  the  bread  which  we  eat,  without  the 
influence  of  his  promise  and  blessing,  would 
no  more  support  us  than  a  stone;  but  his 
blessing  makes  every  thing  good,  gives  a 
tenfold  value  to  our  comforts,  and  greatly  di- 
minishes the  weight  of  every  cross. 

The  ring  upon  your  finger  is  of  some  value 
as  gold,  but  this  is  not  much;  what  makes 
it  chiefly  valuable  to  you  is,  that  you  consider 


it  as  a  pledge  and  token  of  the  relation  you 
bear  to  him  who  gave  it  you.  1  know  no 
fitter  emblem  of  the  light  in  which  we  should 
consider  all  those  good  things  which  the  IjDrd 
gives  us  richly  to  enjoy.  VVImmi  every  thinjj 
we  rec(Mve  from  him  is  received  and  prized 
as  a  fruit  and  a  pledge  of  his  covenant-love, 
then  his  Iwunties,  instead  of  being  set  up  as 
rivals,  and  idols  to  draw  our  iiearts  from  him, 
awaken  us  to  fresh  exercises  of  gratitude, 
and  furnish  us  with  fresh  motives  of  cheerful 
obedience  every  hour. 

Time  is  short,  and  we  live  in  a  dark  and 
cloudy  day.  When  iniquity  abounds,  the  love 
of  many  waxes  cold ;  and  we  have  reason  to 
fear  the  Lord's  hand  is  lifted  up  in  displea- 
sure at  our  provocations.  May  he  help  us  to 
sit  loose  to  all  below,  to  watch  unto  prayer 
for  grace  to  keep  our  garments  clean,  and  to 
be  faithful  witnesses  lor  him  in  our  several 
places!  O,  it  is  my  desire  for  myself  and 
for  all  my  dear  friends,  that  whilst  too  many 
seem  content  with  a  half  profession,  a  name 
to  live,  an  outward  attachment  to  ordinances, 
and  sentiments,  and  parties,  we  may  be  am- 
bitious to  experience  what  the  glorious  gos- 
pel is  capable  of  effecting,  both  as  to  sancti- 
fication  and  consolation,  in  this  state  of 
infirmity;  that  we  may  have  our  loins  gird- 
ed, and  our  lamps  burning,  and  by  our  sim- 
plicity and  spirituality  constrain  those  who 
know  us  to  acknowledge  that  we  have  been 
with  Jesus,  have  sat  at  his  feet,  and  drank 
of  his  Spirit. — I  am,  &.c 


LETTERS 

TO  MRS.  H-— — 


LETTER  I. 

Long  and  often  have  I  thought  of  writing- 
to  you  ;  now  the  time  is  come.  May  the  Lord 
help  me  to  send  a  word  in  season !  I  know 
not  how  it  may  be  with  you,  but  he  does,  and 
to  him  I  look  to  direct  my  thoughts  accord- 
ingly. I  suppose  you  are  still  in  the  school 
of  the  cross,  learning  the  happy  art  of  extract- 
ing real  good  out  of  seeming  evil,  and  to  grow 
tall  by  stooping.  The  flesh  is  a  sad  unto- 
ward dunce  in  this  school ;  but  grace  makes 
the  spirit  willing  to  learn  by  suffering ;  yea  it 
cares  not  what  it  endures,  so  sin  may  be  mor- 
tified, and  a  conformity  to  the  image  of  Jesus 
be  increased.  Surely  when  we  see  the  most 
and  the  best  of  the  Lord's  children  so  often  in 
heaviness,  and  when  we  consider  how  much 
he  loves  them,  and  what  he  has  done  and 
prepared  for  them,  we  may  take  it  for  granted 
that  there  is  a  need-be  for  their  sufferings. 
For  it  would  be  easy  to  his  power,  and  not  a 
thousandth  part  of  what  his  love  intends  to  do 
for  them,  should  he  make  their  whole  life  here, 
from  the  hour  of  their  conversion  to  their  death, 
a  continued  course  of  satisfaction  and  com- 
fort, without  any  thing  to  distress  them  from 
within  or  without.  But  were  it  so,  should  we 
not  miss  many  advantages]  In  the  first  place, 
we  should  not  then  be  very  conformable  to 
our  Head,  nor  be  able  to  say.  As  he  was,  so 
are  we  in  this  world.  Methinks  a  believer 
would  be  ashamed  to  be  so  utterly  unlike  his 
Lord.  What !  the  master  always  a  man  of 
Borrows  and  acquainted  with  grief,  and  the 
servant  always  happy  and  full  of  comfort ! 
Jesus  despised,  reproached,  neglected,  op- 
posed, and  betrayed,  and  his  people  admired 
and  caressed ;  he  living  in  the  want  of  all 
things,  and  they  filled  with  abundance ;  he 
sweating  blood  for  anguish,  and  they  stran- 
gers to  distress :  how  unsuitable  would  these 
tilings  be  !  how  much  better  to  be  called  to  the 
honour  of  filling  up  the  measure  of  his  suffer- 
ings !  A  cup  was  put  into  his  hand  on  our 
account,  and  his  love  engaged  him  to  drink 
it  for  us.  The  wrath  which  it  contained  he 
drank  wholly  himself,  but  he  left  us  a  little 


affliction  to  taste,  that  we  might  pledge  him, 
and  remember  how  he  loved  us,  and  ho\T 
much  more  he  endured  for  us  than  he  will 
ever  call  us  to  endure  for  him.  Again,  how 
could  we,  without  sufferings,  manifest  the 
nature  and  truth  of  gospel-grace]  What 
place  should  we  then  have  for  patience,  sub- 
mission, meekness,  forbearance,  and  a  readi- 
ness to  forgive,  if  we  had  nothing  to  try  ug 
either  from  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  or  from  the 
hand  of  men.  A  christian  without  trials 
would  be  like  a  mill  without  wind  or  water ; 
the  contrivance  and  design  of  the  wheel- work 
within  side  would  be  unnoticed  and  un- 
known, without  something  to  put  it  in  mo- 
tion from  without.  Nor  would  our  graces 
grow,  unless  they  were  called  out  to  exer- 
cise :  the  difficulties  we  meet  with  not  only 
prove  but  strengthen  the  graces  of  the  Spirit. 
If  a  person  was  always  to  sit  still,  without 
making  use  of  legs  or  arms,  he  would  proba- 
bly wholly  lose  the  power  of  moving  his 
limbs  at  last ;  but  by  walking  and  working  he 
becomes  strong  and  active.  So,  in  a  long 
course  of  ease,  the  powers  of  the  new  man 
would  certainly  languish:  the  soul  would 
grow  soft,  indolent,  cowardly,  and  faint ;  and 
therefore  the  Lord  appoints  his  children  such 
dispensations  as  make  them  strive,  and  strug- 
gle, and  pant.  They  must  press  through  a 
crowd,  swim  against  a  stream,  endure  hard- 
ships, run,  wrestle,  and  fight;  and  thus  their 
strength  grows  in  the  using. 

By  these  things,  likewise,  they  are  made 
more  willing  to  leave  the  present  world,  to 
which  we  are  prone  to  cleave  too  closely  in 
our  hearts  when  our  path  is  very  smooth. 
Had  Israel  enjoyed  their  former  peace  and 
prosperity  in  Egypt,  when  Moses  came  to 
invite  them  to  Canaan,  I  think  they  would 
hardly  have  listened  to  him.  But  the  Lord 
suffered  them  to  be  brought  into  great  trou- 
ble and  bondage,  and  then  the  news  of  deli- 
verance was  more  welcome ;  yet  still  they 
were  but  half  willinir,  and  they  carried  a  lovo 
to  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  with  them  into  the 
wilderness.  We  are  like  them  :  though  we 
say  this  world  is  vain  and  sinful  we  are  too 


Lh:TTi:US  TO  MRS.  II- 


^LIT.  II.] 


'fond  of  it ;  and  Ihonjjh  \rp  liopo  for  triio  }ia|>- 
pinoss  only  in  hfav»Mi,  we  nr**  ottcn  wrll  con- 
tent to  stay  lon^'er  liere.  Hut  tlio  I^ord  ncnds 
afttictions  ont;  urtcr  unothor  to  quicken  our 
desires,  and  to  convince  us  that  tliis  cannot 
be  our  rest,  Soinetinies,  if  yini  drive  a  bird 
from  one  branch  of  a  tree,  he  will  hop  to  an- 
other a  little  hifrher,  and  from  thence  to  a 
third  ;  but  if  you  continue  to  disturb  liim,  he 
will  at  last  take  wingr  and  fly  quite  away. 
Thus  we,  when  forced  from  one  creature- 
comfort,  perch  upon  another,  and  so  on ; 
but  the  Ix)rd  mercifully  follows  us  with  trials, 
and  will  not  let  us  rest  upon  any.  By  de- 
g^rees  our  desires  take  a  nobler  flight,  and 
can  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  him- 
self; and  we  say,  To  depart  and  be  with  Jesus 
is  best  of  all. 

I  trust  you  find  the  name  and  ^ace  of 
Jesus  more  and  more  precious  to  you;  his 
promises  more  sweet,  and  your  hope  in  them 
more  abidino^ ;  your  sense  of  your  own  weak- 
ness and  unworthiness  daily  increasing- ;  and 
your  persuasion  of  his  all-sufficiency  to  guide, 
support,  and  comfort  you,  more  confirmed. 
You  owe  your  growth  in  these  respects  in  a 
^reat  measure  to  his  blessing  upon  those  af- 
flictions which  he  has  prepared  for  you,  and 
sanctified  to  you.  May  you  praise  him  for 
all  that  is  past,  and  trust  hini  for  all  that  is  to 
come. — I  am,  &c. 


860 


LETTER  II. 

Though  I  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  of 
you,  and  sending  a  remembrance  from  time 
to  time,  I  am  willing,  by  this  opportunity,  to 
direct  a  few  lines  to  you,  as  a  more  express 
testimony  of  my  sincere  regard. 

I  think  your  experience  isgenerally  of  the 
fearful,  doubting  cast.  Such  souls,  however, 
the  Lord  has  given  particular  charge  to  his 
ministers  to  comfort.  He  knows  our  infirm- 
ities, and  what  temptations  mean,  and  as  a 
good  shepherd  he  expresses  a  peculiar  care 
and  tenderness  for  the  weak  of  the  flock, 
Isaiah  xl.  4.  But  how  must  I  attempt  your 
comfort  ?  Surely  not  by  strengthening  a  mis- 
take to  which  we  are  all  too  liable,  by  lead- 
ing you  to  look  into  your  own  heart  for 
(what  you  will  never  find  there)  something 
in  yourself  whereon  to  ground  your  hopes,  if 
not  wholly,  yet  at  least  in  part.  Rather  let 
me  endeavour  to  lead  you  out  of  yourself; 
let  me  invite  you  to  look  unto  Jesus.  Should 
we  look  for  light  in  our  own  eyes,  or  in  the 
sun]  Is  it  indwelling  sin  distresses  you? 
Then  T  can  tell  you  (though  you  know  it) 
that  Jesus  died  for  sin  and  sinners.  I  can 
tell  you,  that  his  blood  and  righteousness  are 
of  infinite  value ;  that  his  arm  is  almighty, 
and  his  compassions  infinite ;  yea,  you  your- 
celf  read  his  promises  every  day,  and  why 
3  A 


should  you  doubt  their  IxMug  fulfilled?  If  you 
siiy  you  <lo  not  <iuf.stion  their  truth,  or  that 
tht'y  are  accomplislu'd  to  inuny,  bill  tliat  you 
can  hardly  Indicvf?  they  Iwlong  to  you; 
I  would  ask,  what  evidence  you  would  rc- 
<juire  ]  A  voice  or  an  angel  from  h»'aven  you 
do  not  expect.  Consider,  if  many  of  the 
promises  are  not  expressly  directed  to  those 
to  whom  they  belong.  When  you  read 
your  name  on  the  superscription  of  tliis 
letter,  you  make  no  scruple  to  open  it :  why, 
then,  do  you  hesitate  at  embracing  the  pro- 
mises of  the  gospel,  where  you  read  that  they 
are  addressed  to  those  who  mourn,  who  hun- 
ger and  thirst  after  righteousness,  who  arc 
poor  in  spirit,  &c.  and  cannot  but  be  sensible 
that  a  gracious  God  has  begun  to  work  these 
dispositions  in  your  heart  ]  If  you  say,  that 
though  you  do  at  times  mourn,  hunger,  &c. 
you  are  afraid  you  do  it  not  enough,  or  not 
aright ;  consider,  that  this  sort  of  reasoning 
is  very  far  from  the  spirit  and  language  of 
the  gospel ;  for  it  is  grounded  on  a  secret  sup- 
position, that  in  the  forgiveness  of  sin  God 
has  a  respect  to  something  more  than  the 
atonement  and  mediation  of  Jesus  ;  namely, 
to  some  previous  good  qualifications  in  a  sin- 
ner's heart,  which  are  to  share  w'ith  the  blood 
of  Christ  in  the  honour  of  salvation.  The 
enemy  deceives  us  in  this  matter  the  more 
easily,  because  a  propensity  to  the  covenant 
of  works  is  a  part  of  our  natural  depravity. 
Depend  upon  it,  you  will  never  have  a  suit- 
able and  sufficient  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin, 
and  of  your  share  in  it,  so  long  as  you  have 
any  sin  remaining  in  you.  We  must  see 
Jesus  as  he  is,  before  our  apprehensions  of 
any  spiritual  truth  will  be  complete.  But 
if  we  know  that  we  must  perish  without 
Christ,  and  that  he  is  able  to  save  to  the  ut- 
termost, we  know  enough  to  warrant  us  to 
cast  our  souls  upon  him,  and  we  dishonour 
him  by  fearing  that  when  we  do  so  he  will 
disappoint  our  hope.  But  if  you  are  still 
perplexed  about  the  high  points  of  election, 
&c.  I  would  advise  you  to  leave  the  disposal 
of  others  to  the  great  Judge ;  and  as  to  your- 
self, I  think  I  need  not  say  much  to  persuade 
you,  that  if  ever  you  are  saved  at  all,  it  must 
be  in  a  way  of  free  and  absolute  grace.  Leave 
disputes  to  others  ;  wait  upon  the  Lord,  and 
he  will  teach  you  all  things,  in  such  degree 
and  time  as  he  sees  best.  Perhaps  you  have 
suffered  for  taking  things  too  much  upon  trust 
from  men.  Cease  from  man,  whose  breath  is 
in  his  nostrils.  One  is  your  master,  even 
Christ.  Study  and  pray  over  the  Bible ;  and 
you  may  take  it  as  a  sure  rule,  that  whatever 
sentiment  makes  any  part  of  the  word  of  God 
unwelcome  to  you,  is  justly  to  be  suspected. 
Aim  at  a  cheerful  spirit.  The  more  you 
trust  God,  the  better  you  will  serve  him. 
While  you  indulge  unbelief  and  suspicion, 
you  weaken  your  own  hands,  and  discourage 
others.    Be  thankful  for  what  he  has  shown 


370 


LETTERS  TO  MRS.  H— 


[LET.  III. 


you,  and  wait  upon  him  for  more;  you  shall 
find  he  has  not  said,  "Seek  ye  my  face  in 
vain."  I  heartily  commend  you  to  his  grace 
and  care,  and  am,  &.c. 


LETTER  III. 

At  length,  and  without  farther  apology  for 
my  silence,  I  sit  down  to  ask  you,  how  you 
fare  ?  Afflictions  I  hear  have  been  your  lot; 
and  if  I  had  not  heard  so,  I  should  have  taken 
it  for  granted,  for  I  believe  the  Lord  loves 
you,  and  as  many  as  he  loves  he  chastens. 
I  think  you  can  say  afflictions  have  been  good 
for  you,  and  I  doubt  not  but  you  have  found 
strength  according  to  your  day;  so  that 
though  you  may  have  been  sharply  tried,  you 
have  not  been  overpowered.  For  the  Lord 
has  engaged  his  faithfulness  for  this  to  all  his 
children,  that  he  will  support  them  in  all  their 
trials,  so  that  the  fire  shall  not  consume  them 
nor  the  floods  drown  them,  1  Cor.  x.  13;  Isa. 
xliii.  2. 

If  you  can  say  thus  much,  cannot  you  go  a 
little  further,  and  add,  in  the  apostle's  words, 
"None  of  these  things  move  me,  neither 
count  I  my  life  dear.  I  rather  glory  in  my 
infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest 
upon  me;  yea,  doubtless,  I  count  all  things 
loss  and  of  no  regard,  for  the  excellency  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord ;  fpr 
when  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong."  Me- 
thinks  I  hear  you  say,  "  God,  who  comforteth 
those  who  are  cast  dovi^n,  has  comforted  my 
soul ;  and  as  my  troubles  have  abounded,  my 
consolations  in  Christ  have  abounded  also. 
He  has  delivered,  he  does  deliver,  and  in  him 
I  trust  that  he  will  yet  deliver  me."  Surely 
you  can  set  your  seal  to  these  words.  The 
Lord  help  you,  then,  to  live  more  and  more 
a  life  of  faith,  to  feed  upon  the  promises,  and 
to  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that  all  things  are 
yours,  and  shall  surely  work  for  your  good. 

If  I  guess  right  at  what  passes  in  your 


heart,  the  name  of  Jesus  is  precious  to  you| 
and  this  is  a  sure  token  of  salvation,  and  that 
of  God.  You  could  not  have  loved  him  if  he 
had  not  loved  you  first.  He  spoke  to  you, 
and  said,  "  Seek  my  face,"  before  your  heart 
cried  to  him  "Thy  face,  O  Lord,  will  I  seek." 
But  you  complain,  "  Alas !  I  love  him  so 
little."  That  very  complaint  proves  that  you 
love  him  a  great  deal,  for  if  you  loved  him 
but  a  little  you  would  think  you  loved  him 
enough.  A  mother  loves  her  child  a  great 
deal,  yet  does  not  complain  for  not  loving  it 
more,  nay,  perhaps,  she  hardly  thinks  it 
possible.  But  such  an  infinite  object  is  Jesus, 
that  they  who  love  him  better  than  parents 
or  child,  or  any  earthly  relation  or  comfort, 
will  still  think  they  hardly  love  him  at  all, 
because  they  see  such  a  vast  disproportion 
between  the  utmost  they  can  give  him  and 
what  in  himself  he  deserves  from  them.  But 
I  can  give  you  good  advice  and  good  news : 
love  him  as  well  as  you  can  now,  and  ere 
long  you  shall  love  him  better.  O,  when  you 
see  him  as  he  is,  then  I  am  sure  you  will 
love  him  indeed  !  If  you  want  to  love  him 
better  now  while  you  are  here,  I  believe  I  can 
tell  you  the  secret  how  this  is  to  be  attained: 
trust  him.  The  more  you  trust  him  the  better 
you  will  love  him.  If  you  ask  farther.  How 
shall  I  do  to  trust  him  ]  I  answer,  Try  him. 
The  more  you  make  trial  of  him,  the  more 
your  trust  in  him  will  be  strengthened. 
Venture  upon  his  promises;  carry  them  to 
him,  and  see  if  he  will  not  be  as  good  as  hia 
word.  But,  alas !  Satan  and  unbelief  svork 
the  contrary  way.  We  are  unwilling  to  try 
him,  and  therefore  unable  to  trust  him ;  and 
what  wonder,  then,  that  our  love  is  faint,  for 
who  can  love  at  uncertainties  1 

If  you  are  in  some  measure  thankful  for 
what  you  have  received,  and  hungering  and 
thirsting  for  more,  you  are  in  the  frame  I 
would  wish  for  myself,  and  I  desire  to  praise 
the  Lord  on  your  behalf  Pray  for  us.  Wg 
join  in  love  to  you. — I  am,  &.c. 


LETTERS 

TO  MISS  P 


LETTER  I. 

August  17,  1776. 

It  is  indeed  natural  to  us  to  wish  and  to 
plan,  and  it  is  merciful  in  the  Lord  to  disap- 
point our  plans,  and  to  cross  our  wishes.  For 
we  cannot  be  safe,  much  less  happy,  but  in 
proportion  as  we  are  weaned  trom  our  own 
wills,  and  made  simply  desirous  of  being  di- 
rected by  his  guidance.  This  truth,  when 
we  are  enlightened  by  iiis  word,  is  sufficiently 
familiar  to  the  judgment,  but  we  seldom  learn 
to  reduce  it  into  practice,  without  being  trained 
a  while  in  the  school  of  disappointment.  The 
Bchemes  we  form  look  so  plausible  and  con- 
venient, that  when  they  are  broken  we  are 
ready  to  say,  Wliat  a  pity  !  We  try  again, 
and  with  no  better  success ;  we  are  grieved, 
and  perhaps  angry,  and  plan  out  another,  and 
so  on :  at  length,  in  a  course  of  time,  ex- 
perience and  observation  begin  to  convince 
us  that  we  are  not  more  able  than  we  are 
worthy  to  choose  aright  for  ourselves.  Then 
the  Lord's  invitation  to  cast  our  cares  upon 
him,  and  his  promise  to  take  care  of  us, 
appear  valuable ;  and  when  we  have  done 
planning,  his  plan  in  our  favour  gradually 
opens,  and  he  does  more  and  better  for  us  than 
we  could  either  ask  or  think.  I  can  hardly 
recollect  a  single  plan  of  mine  of  which  I  have 
not  since  seen  reason  to  be  satisfied,  that  had 
it  taken  place  in  season  and  circumstance 
just  as  I  proposed,  it  would,  humanly  speak- 
ing, have  proved  my  ruin,  or  at  least  it  would 
have  deprived  me  of  the  greater  good  the 
Lord  had  designed  for  me.  We  judge  of 
things  by  their  present  appearances,  but  the 
Lord  sees  them  in  their  consequences.  If 
we  could  do  so  likewise,  we  should  be  per- 
fectly of  his  mind,  but  as  we  cannot,  it  is  an 
unspeakable  mercy  that  he  will  manage  for 
us,  whether  we  are  pleased  with  his  manage- 
ment or  not;  and  it  is  spoken  of  as  one  of  his 
heaviest  judgments,  when  he  gives  any  person 
or  people  up  lo  the  way  of  their  own  hearts, 
and  to  walk  after  their  own  counsels. 

Indeed,  we  may  admire  his  patience  to- 


wards us.  If  we  were  blind,  and  reduced  to 
desire  a  person  to  lead  us,  and  should  yet 
pretend  to  dispute  with  him,  and  direct  him 
at  every  step,  we  should  probably  soon  weary 
him,  and  provoke  him  to  leave  us  to  find  the 
way  by  ourselves  if  we  could.  But  our  gra- 
cious Lord  is  long-suffering  and  full  of  com- 
passion: he  bears  with  our  frowardness,  yet 
he  will  take  methods  both  to  shame  and  to- 
humble  us,  and  to  bring  us  to  a  confession 
that  he  is  wiser  than  we.  The  great  and  un- 
expected benefit  he  intends  us,  by  all  the  dis- 
cipline we  meet  with,  is  to  tread  down  our 
wills,  and  bring  them  into  subjection  to  his. 
So  far  as  we  attain  to  this,  we  are  out  of  the 
reach  of  disappointment,  for  when  the  will 
of  God  can  please  us,  we  shall  be  pleased 
every  day,  and  from  morning  to  night,  I 
mean  with  respect  to  his  dispensations.  O 
the  happiness  of  such  a  life!  I  have  an  idea 
of  it:  I  hope  I  am  aiming  at  it,  but  surely  I 
have  not  attained  it.  Self  is  active  in  my 
heart,  if  it  does  not  absolutely  reign  there. 
I  profi^ss  to  believe  that  one  thing  is  needful 
and  sufficient,  and  yet  my  thoughts  are  prone 
to  wander  after  a  hundred  more.  If  it  be 
true  that  the  light  of  his  countenance  is  bet- 
ter than  life,  why  am  I  solicitous  about  any 
thing  else  ?  If  he  be  all-sufficient,  and  gives 
me  liberty  to  call  him  mine,  why  do  I  go 
a-begging  to  creatures  for  help  ?  If  he  be 
about  my  path  and  bed;  if  the  smallest,  as 
well  as  the  greatest  events  in  which  I  am 
concerned  are  under  his  immediate  direction ; 
if  the  very  hairs  of  my  head  are  numbered; 
then  my  care  (any  farther  than  a  care  to  walk 
in  the  paths  of  his  precepts,  and  to  follow  the 
openings  of  his  providence)  must  be  useless 
and  needless,  yea  indeed  sinful  and  heathen- 
ish, burdensome  to  myself  and  dishonourable 
to  my  profession.  Let  us  cast  down  the  load 
we  are  unable  to  carry,  and  if  the  Lord  be 
our  shepherd,  refer  all  and  trust  all  to  him. 
Let  us  endeavour  to  live  to  him  and  for  hira 
to-day,  and  be  glad  that  to-morrow,  with  all 
that  is  behind  it,  is  in  his  hands. 
It  is  storied  of  Pompey,  that  when  his 
371 


372 


LETTERS  TO  MISS  P- 


[let.  iu 


friends  would  have  dissuaded  him  from  put- 
ting to  sea  in  a  storm,  he  answered,  It  is 
necessary  for  me  to  sail,  but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  me  to  live.  O  pompous  speecli,  in 
Pompey's  sense !  lie  was  full  of  the  idea  of 
his  own  importance,  and  would' rather  have 
died  than  have  taken  a  step  beneath  his  sup- 
posed dignity.  But  it  may  be  accommodated 
with  propriety  to  a  believer's  case.  It  be- 
comes us  to  say,  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to 
be  rich,  or  what  the  world  accounts  wise ;  to 
be  healthy,  or  admired  by  my  fellow- worms ; 
to  pass  through  life  in  a  state  of  prosperity 
and  outward  comfort; — these  things  may  be, 
or  they  may  be  otherwise,  as  the  liOrd  in  his 
wisdom  shall  appoint,  but  it  is  necessary  for 
me  to  be  humble  and  spiritual,  to  seek  com- 
munion with  God,  to  adorn  my  profession  of 
the  gospel,  and  to  yield  submissively  to  his 
disposal,  in  whatever  way,  whether  of  service 
or  suffering,  he  shall  be  pleased  to  call  me  to 
glorify  him  in  the  world :  it  is  not  necessary 
for  me  to  live  long,  but  highly  expedient 
that  whilst  I  do  live  I  should  live  to  him. 
Here,  then,  I  would  bound  my  desires,  and 
here,  having  his  word  both  for  my  rule  and 
my  warrant,  I  am  secured  from  asking  amiss. 
Let  me  have  his  presence  and  his  Spirit, 
wisdom  to  know  my  calling,  and  opportuni- 
ties and  faithfulness  to  improve  them  ;  and  as 
to  the  rest,  I^rd,  help  me  to  say.  What  thou 
wilt,  when  thou  wilt,  and  how  thou  wilt. — I 
am,  &LC. 


LETTER  II. 

DEAR  MAD\M, — What  a  poor,  uncertain, 
dying  world  is  this!  What  a  wilderness  in 
itself!  How  dark,  how  desolate,  without  the 
light  of  the  gospel  and  the  knowledge  of 
Jesus  !  It  does  not  appear  so  to  us  in  a  state 
of  nature,  because  we  are  then  in  a  state  of 
enchantment,  the  magical  lantern  blinding 
us  with  a  splendid  delusion. 

Thus  in  the  desert's  dreary  waste, 
By  magic  power  produced  in  haste, 

As  old  romances  say, 
Castles  and  groves,  and  music  sweet, 
The  senses  of  the  trav'ller  cheat, 

And  stop  him  in  his  way. 


But  while  he  gazes  with  surprise. 
The  charm  dissolves,  the  vision  dies, 

'Twas  but  enchanted  ground : 
Thus,  if  the  Lord  our  spirit  touch. 
The  world,  which  promised  us  so  much, 

A  wilderness  is  found. 

It  is  a  great  mercy  to  be  undeceived  in 
time;  and  though  our  gay  dreams  are  at  an 
end,  and  we  awake  to  every  thing  that  is  dis- 
gustful and  dismaying,  yet  we  see  a  highway 
throuffh  the  wilderness,  a  powerful  guard,  an 
infallible  guide  at  hand  to  conduct  us  through ; 
and  we  can  discern,  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
wilderness,  a  better  land,  where  we  shall  be 
at  rest  and  at  home.  What  will  the  difficul- 
ties we  meet  by  the  way  then  signify  1  The 
remembrance  of  them  will  only  remain  to 
heighten  our  sense  of  the  love,  care,  and 
power  of  our  Saviour  and  leader.  O  how 
shall  we  then  admire,  adore,  and  praise  him, 
when  he  shall  condescend  to  unfold  to  us  the 
beauty,  propriety,  and  harmony  of  the  whole 
train  of  his  dispensations  towards  us,  and  give 
us  a  clear  retrospect  of  all  the  way,  and  all 
the  turns  of  our  pilgrimage  ! 

In  the  mean  while,  the  best  method  of 
adorning  our  profession,  and  of  enjoying 
peace  in  our  souls,  is  simply  to  trust  him, 
and  absolutely  to  commit  ourselves  and  our 
all  to  his  management.  By  casting  our  bur- 
dens upon  him,  our  spirits  become  light  and 
cheerful ;  we  are  freed  from  a  thousand  anx- 
ieties and  inquietudes,  which  are  wearisome 
to  our  minds,  and  which,  with  respect  to 
events,  are  needless  for  us,  yea,  useless.  But 
though  it  may  be  easy  to  speak  of  this  trud:, 
and  it  appears  to  our  judgment  perfectly 
right  and  reasonable,  the  actual  attainment 
is  a  great  thing ;  and  especially  so  to  trust 
the  Lord,  not  by  fits  and  starts,  surrendering 
one  day,  and  retracting  the  next,  but  to  abide 
by  our  surrender,  and  go  habitually  trusting 
through  all  the  changes  we  meet,  knowing 
that  his  love,  purpose,  and  promise,  are  un- 
changeable. Some  little  faintings  perhaps 
none  are  freed  from  ;  but  I  believe  a  power 
of  trusting  the  Lord  in  good  measure  at  all 
times,  and  living  quietly  under  the  shadow 
of  his  wing,  is  what  the  promise  warrants  us 
to  expect,  if  we  seek  it  by  diligent  prayer ; 
if  not  all  at  once,  yet  by  a  gradual  increase. 
May  it  be  your  experience  and  mine. — I 
am^  &.C. 


LETTERS 


TO 


THE  REVEREND  MR.  B- 


LETTER  I. 

January  27,  1778. 

DEAR  AND  REVEREND  SIR, — I  Call  you  Dear 
because  I  love  you,  and  I  shall  continue  to 
style  you  Reverend  as  long  as  you  dif^nify 
me  with  that  title.  It  is,  indeed,  a  pretty 
sounding  epithet,  and  forms  a  striking  con- 
trast in  the  usual  application.  The  inha- 
bitants of  the  moon  (if  there  be  any)  have 
perhaps  no  idea  how  many  Reverend,  Right 
Reverend,  and  Most  Reverend,  sinners  we 
have  in  Europe.  And  yet  you  are  reverend, 
and  I  revere  you,  because  I  believe  the  Lord 
liveth  in  you,  and  has  chosen  you  to  be  a 
temple  of  his  presence,  and  an  instrument 
of  his  grace. 

I  hope  the  two  sermons  you  preached  in 
London  were  made  useful  to  others,  and  the 
medicines  you  took  there  were  useful  to  your- 
self. I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  safe  at  home, 
and  something  better.  Cheerful  spring  is  ap- 
proaching: then  I  hope  the  barometer  of  your 
spirits  will  rise.  But  the  presence  of  the 
Lord  can  bring  a  pleasanter  spring  than 
April,  and  even  in  the  depth  of  winter. 

At  present  it  is  January  with  me,  both  with- 
in and  without.  The  outward  sun  shines  and 
looks  pleasant,  but  his  beams  are  faint,  and 
too  feeble  to  dissolve  the  frost.  So  is  it  in 
my  heart;  I  have  many  bright  and  pleasant 
beams  of  truth  in  my  view,  but  cold  predo- 
minates in  my  frost-bound  spirit,  and  they 
have  but  little  power  to  warm  me.  I  could 
tell  a  stranger  something  about  Jesus  that 
would  perhaps  astonish  him :  such  a  glorious 
person!  such  wonderful  love!  such  humili- 
ation! such  a  death!  and  then  what  he  is 
now  himself,  and  what  he  is  to  his  people ! 
What  a  sun !  what  a  shield  !  what  a  root ! 
what  a  life  !  what  a  friend  !  My  tongue  can 
run  on  upon  these  subjects  sometimes;  and 
could  my  heart  keep  pace  with  it  I  should 
be  the  happiest  fellow  in  the  country.  Stupid 
creature !  to  know  these  things  so  well,  and 

373 


yet  be  no  more  affected  with  them  !  Indeed, 
I  have  reason  to  be  upon  ill  terms  with  my- 
self! It  is  strange  that  pride  should  ever  find 
any  thing  in  my  experience  to  feed  upon; 
but  this  completes  my  character  for  folly, 
vileness,  and  inconsistence,  that  I  am  not  only 
poor,  but  proud ;  and  though  I  am  convinced 
I  am  a  very  wretch,  a  nothing  before  the 
Lord,  I  am  prone  to  go  forth  among  my  fel- 
low-creatures as  though  I  were  wise  and 
good. 

You  wonder  what  I  am  doing ;  and  well 
you  may:  I  am  sure  you  would,  if  you  lived 
with  me.  Too  much  of  my  time  passes  in 
busy  idleness,  too  much  in  waking  dreams. 
I  aim  at  something;  but  hinderances  from 
within  and  without  make  it  difficult  for  me 
to  accomplish  any  thing.  I  dare  not  say  I 
am  absolutely  idle,  or  that  I  wilfully  waste 
much  of  my  time.  I  have  seldom  one  hour 
free  from  interruption.  Letters  come  that 
must  be  answered,  visitants  that  must  be  re- 
ceived, business  that  must  be  attended  to.  I 
have  a  good  many  sheep  and  lambs  to  look 
after,  sick  and  afflicted  souls,  dear  to  the 
Lord;  and,  therefore,  whatever  stands  still, 
these  must  not  be  neglected.  Amongst  these 
various  avocations,  night  comes  before  I  am 
ready  for  noon ;  and  tiie  week  closes,  when, 
according  to  the  state  of  my  business,  it  should 
not  be  more  than  Tuesday.  O  precious,  ir- 
recoverable time !  O  that  I  had  more  wisdom 
in  redeeming  and  improving  thee!  Pray  for 
me,  that  the  Lord  may  teach  me  to  serve 
him  better. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  II. 

April  28, 1778. 
DEAR  SIR, — I  was  not  much  disappointed 
at  not  meeting  you  at  home;  I  know  how 

difficult  it  is  to  get  away  from ,  if  you 

are  seen  in  the  street  after  breakfast.    The 


374 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


horse-leech  has  two  daughters,  saying,  Give, 
give :  the  cry  there  is.  Preach,  preach.  When 
you  have  told  them  all,  you  must  tell  them 
more,  or  tell  it  them  over  again.  Whoever 
will  find  tongue,  they  will  engage  to  find 
ears.  Yet  I  do  not  hlame  this  importunity,  I 
wish  you  were  teased  more  with  it  in  your 
own  town;  for  though,  undoubtedly,  there 

are   too    many,    both    at   N and  here, 

whose  religion  lies  too  much  in  hearing,  yet 
in  many  it  proceeds  from  a  love  to  the  truth, 
and  to  the  ministers  who  dispense  it.  And  I 
generally  observe,  that  they  who  arc  not 
willing  to  hear  a  stranger  (if  his  character  is 
known,)  are  indifferent  enough  about  hear- 
ing their  own  minister. 

I  beg  you  to  pray  for  me.  I  am  a  poor 
creature,  full  of  wants.  I  seem  to  need  the 
wisdom  of  Solomon,  the  meekness  of  Moses, 
and  the  zeal  of  Paul,  to  enable  me  to  make 
full  proof  of  my  ministry.  But,  alas !  you 
may  guess  the  rest. 

Send  me  "  The  way  to  Christ."  I  am  will- 
ing to  be  a  debtor  to  the  wise  and  unw^ise, 
to  doctors  and  shoemakers,  if  I  can  get  a  hint, 
or  a  Aota  Bene,  from  any  one,  without  re- 
spect to  parties.  When  a  house  is  on  fire, 
Churchmen,  Dissenters,  Methodists,  Papists, 
Moravians,  and  Mystics,  are  all  welcome  to 
bring  water.  At  such  times,  nobody  asks. 
Pray,  friend,  whom  do  you  hear  1  or,  What 
do  you  think  of  the  five  points?  &c.  &c. — I 
am,  6ic. 


LETTER  m. 

July  7,  1779. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  loiow  not  that  I  have 
any  thing  to  say  worth  postage,  though  per- 
haps, had  I  seen  you  before  you  set  off,  some- 
thing might  have  occurred  which  will  not 
be  found  in  my  letter.  Yet  I  write  a  line, 
because  you  bid  me,  and  are  now  in  a  far, 

foreign  country.     You  will  find  Mr. a 

man  to  your  tooth,  but  he  is  in  Mr,  W 's 

connexion.  So  I  remember  venerable  Bede, 
after  giving  a  high  character  of  some  con- 
temporary, kicks  his  full  pail  of  milk  down, 
and  reduces  him  almost  to  nothing,  by  add- 
ing, in  the  close,  to  this  purpose  :  "but,  un- 
happy man,  he  did  not  keep  Easter  our 
way."  A  fig  for  all  connexions,  say  I,  and 
say  you,  but  that  which  is  formed  by  the 
bands,  joints,  and  ligaments  the  apostle 
speaks  of,  Eph.  iv.  16,  et  alibi.    Therefore,  I 

venture  to  repeat  it,  that  Mr. ,  though 

he  often  sees  and  hears  Mr.  W ,  and  I 

believe  loves  him  well,  is  a  good  man; 
and  you  will  see  the  invisible  mark  upon  his 
forehead,  if  you  examine  him  with  your 
spiritual  spectacles. 

Now,  methinks  I  do  pity  you:  I  see  you 
melted  with  heat,  stifled  with  smoke,  and 
Btunned  with  noise.     Ah!    what  a  change 


-.  [let.  it. 

from  the  brooks,  and  bushes,  and  birds,  and 
green  fields,  to  which  you  had  lately  access ' 
Of  old  they  used  to  retire  into  the  deserts  for 
mortification.  If  I  was  to  set  myself  a  mo- 
derate penance,  it  might  be  to  spend  a  fort- 
night in  London  in  the  height  of  summer. 
But  I  forget  myself: — I  hope  the  Lord  is 
with  you,  and  then  all  places  are  alike.  He 
makes  the  dungeon  and  the  stocks  comfort- 
able (Acts  xvi ;)  yea,  a  fiery  furnace,  or  a 
lion's  den.  A  child  of  God  in  London  seems 
to  be  in  all  these  trying  situations:  but 
Jesus  can  preserve  his  own.  I  honour  the 
grace  of  God  in  those  few  (comparatively 
few,  I  fear)  who  preserve  their  garments 
undefiled  in  that  Sardis.  The  air  is  filled 
with  infection,  and  it  is  by  special  power 
and  miraculous  preservation  they  enjoy 
spiritual  health,  when  so  many  sicken  and 
fall  around  them  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left.  May  the  Lord  preserve  you  from 
the  various  epidemical  soul-diseases  which 
abound  where  you  are,  and  be  your  comfort 
and  defence  from  day  to  day. 

Last  week  we  had  a  lion  in  town.  I  went 
to  see  him.  He  was  wonderfully  tame ;  as 
familiar  with  his  keeper,  as  docile  and  obe- 
dient as  a  spaniel.  Yet  the  man  told  me  he 
had  his  surly  fits,  when  they  durst  not  touch 
him.  No  looking-glass  could  express  my 
face  more  justly  than  this  lion  did  my  heart. 
1  could  trace  every  feature  :  as  wild  and 
fierce  by  nature,  yea,  much  more  so;  but 
grace  has  in  some  measure  tamed  me.  I 
Imow  and  love  my  Keeper,  and  sometimes 
watch  his  looks  that  I  may  learn  his  will. 
But,  oh !  I  have  my  surly  fits  too :  seasons 
when  I  relapse  into  the  savage  again,  as 
though  I  had  forgotten  all. — I  am,  &:c. 


LETTER  IV. 

July  13,  1778. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — As  we  are  so  scon  to 
meet,  and  as  I  have  nothing  very  important 
to  communicate,  and  many  things  occur 
which  might  demand  my  time,  I  have  no 
other  plea  to  offer,  either  to  you  or  myself, 
for  writing  again,  but  because  I  love  you. 

I  pity  the  unkno\\Ti  considerable  minister, 
with  whom  you  smoked  your  morning-pipe. 
But  we  must  take  men  and  things  as  we  find 
them :  and  when  we  fall  in  company  with 
those  from  w^hom  we  can  get  little  other 
good,  it  is  likely  we  shall  at  least  find  occa- 
sion for  the  exercise  of  patience  and  charity 
towards  them,  and  of  thankfulness  to  Him 
who  hath  made  us  to  differ.  And  these  are 
good  things,  though,  perhaps,  his  occasion 
may  not  be  pleasant.  Indeed,  a  christian,  if 
in  a  right  spirit,  is  always  in  his  Lord's 
school,  and  may  learn  either  a  new  lesson,  or 
how  to  practise  an  old  one,  by  every  thing 


LKT.  v.] 


LKTTKIIS  TO  TIIK  RKV.  MR.  B- 


875 


ho  sees  or  lu'iirs,  proviilfd  ho  «iooH  not  wil- 
fully tnvul  tipoi)  forhiddcn  },'roun«l.  If  ho 
were  ooustriiinod  to  spend  u  iliiy  with  tho 
poor  oroHtiiros  in  tho  common  sido  ofiXow- 
i,mto,  thon^irh  ho  oould  not  Uilk  with  thorn  of 
whut  (lod  has  don(»  tor  his  soul,  In*  nii^^ht  ho 
moro  sonsihlo  of  his  moroy  hy  tho  contrast 
he  would  ohsorvo  nronnd  him.  IIo  mii,^ht 
rejoico  for  himself,  and  mourn  over  tluMn, 
and  thus  porluips  jjot  iis  nnich  honotit  as 
from  tho  host  sormon  ho  ovor  hoard. 

It  is  nocossary,  ull  thini^s  takon  totrothor, 
to  have  coimoxion  moro  or  less  with  nar- 
row-mindod  pooplo.  If  they  are,  notwith- 
standintr  their  })rojudiccs,  civil  to  us,  they 
have  a  rii^ht  to  some  civility  from  us.  We 
may  love  tliom,  thounfh  we  cannot  admire 
them,  and  pick  somethintr  g-ood  from  them, 
notwithstanding  we  see  much  to  hlame.  It 
is,  perhaps,  the  highest  triumph  wo  can  ol>- 
tain  over  bigotry,  when  we  are  able  to  bear 
with  bigots  themselves.  For  they  are  a  set 
of  troublesome  folks,  whom  Mr.  Self  is  often 
very  forward  to  exclude  from  the  compre- 
hensive candour  and  tenderness  which  he 
professes  to  exercise  towards  those  who  dif- 
fer from  him. 

I  am  glad  your  present  home  (a  believer 
should  be  always  at  home)  is  pleasant ;  the 
rooms  large  and  airy  ;  your  host  and  hostess 
kind  and  spiritual ;  and,  upon  the  whole,  all 
things  as  well  as  you  could  expect  to  find 
them,  considering  where  you  are.  I  could 
give  you  much  such  an  account  of  my  usual 
head-quarters  in  the  city ;  but  still  London 
is  London.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  live  there, 
for  my  own  sake  as  well  as  yours ;  but  if  the 
Lord  should  so  appoint,  I  believe  he  can 
make  you  easy  there,  and  enable  me  to 
make  a  tolerable  siiift  without  you.  Yet  I 
•certainly  should  miss  you;  for  I  have  no 
person  in  this  neighbourhood  with  whom  my 
heart  so  thoroughly  unites  in  spirituals, 
though  there  are  many  whom  I  love.  But 
•conversation  with  most  christians  is  some- 
thing like  going  to  court ;  where,  except 
you  are  dressed  exactly  according  to  a  pre- 
scribed standard,  you  will  either  not  be  ad- 
mitted, or  must  expect  to  be  heartily  stared 
at.  But  you  and  I  can  meet  and  converse, 
sans  contrainte,  in  an  undress,  without  fear 
of  offending,  or  being  accounted  offenders  for 
ti  word  out  of  place,  and  not  exactly  in  the 
pink  of  the  mode. 

I  know  not  how  it  is :  I  think  my  senti- 
ments and  experience  are  as  orthodox  and 
Calvinistical  as  need  be ;  and  yet  I  am  a  sort 
of  speckled  bird  among  my  Calvinist  bre- 
thren. I  am  a  mighty  good  Churchman,  but 
pass  amongst  such  as  a  Dissenter  in  prunello. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Dissenters  (many  of 
tliem  I  mean)  think  me  defective,  cither  in 
understanding  or  in  conscience,  for  staying 
where  1  am.    Well,  there  is  a  middle  party, 


called  Motho<listM,  hut  neither  do  my  dimcn- 
siouH  (vxactly  fit  with  them.  I  am  wjinehow 
dis(|ualitiod  for  claimmg  a  full  hrotherJKKNl 
with  any  party.  IJut  there  an*  a  few  amonjf 
all  parties  who  hoar  with  ujo  and  lov(;  m«, 
and  with  this  I  must  ho  (content  at  prow?nt. 
Ihit  so  far  as  they  lov(;  tin;  liord  Jesus,  I  de- 
sire, and  hy  his  grace  I  dcitermino'  (with  or 
without  their  leave)  to  love  thorn  all.  Party- 
walls,  though  stronger  than  tho  walls  of  Ba- 
bylon, must  come  down  in  the  general  ruin> 
when  tho  «;arth  and  all  its  works  Hhaii  be 
burnt  up,  if  not  sooner. — I  am,  &lc. 


LETTER  V. 

July  — ,  1778. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  was  glad  to  hoar  that  you 
were  again  within  a  few  miles  of  me;  and  I 
would  praise  the  Lord,  who  led  you  out,  and 
brought  you  home  in  safety,  and  preserved 
all  in  peace  while  you  were  abroad,  so  that 
you  found  nothing  very  painful  to  embitter 
your  return.  Many  go  abroad  well,  but  re- 
turn no  more.  The  affectionate  wife,  the 
prattling  children,  listen  for  the  well-known 
sound  of  papa's  foot  at  the  door;  but  they 
listen  in  vain:  a  fall  or  a  fever  has  inter- 
cepted him,  and  he  is  gone  far,  far  away. 
Some  leave  all  well  when  they  go  from 
home ;  but  how  changed,  how  trying  the 
scene  when  they  come  back  I  In  their  ab- 
sence, the  Lord  has  taken  away  the  desire 
of  their  eyes  with  a  stroke,  or  perhaps  ruffians 
have  plundered  and  murdered  their  family 
in  the  dead  of  the  night,  or  the  fire  devoured 
their  habitation. 

Ah !  how  large  and  various  is  the  list  of 
evils  and  calamities  with  which  sin  has  filled 
the  world!  You,  and  I,  and  ours  escape 
them :  we  stand,  though  in  a  field  of  battle, 
where  thousands  fall  around  us,  because  the 
Lord  is  pleased  to  keep  us.  May  he  have 
the  praise,  and  may  we  only  live  to  love  and 
serve  him. 

Mrs. has  been  very  ill,  and  my  heart 

often  much  pained  while  you  have  been  ab- 
sent. But  the  Lord  has  removed  his  hand ; 
she  is  much  better,  and  I  hope  she  will  be 
seen  in  his  house  to-morrow.  I  have  few 
trials  in  my  own  person;  but  when  the 
Lord  afflicts  her,  I  feel  it.  It  is  a  mercy  that 
he  has  made  us  one;  but  it  exposes  us  to 
many  a  pain,  which  we  might  have  missed, 
if  we  cared  but  little  for  each  other.  Alas ! 
there  is  usually  an  ounce  of  the  golden  calf, 
of  idolatry  and  dependence,  in  all  the  warm 
regard  we  bear  to  creatures.  Hinc  illcR 
lachrymcB  !  For  this  reason,  our  sharpest 
trials  usually  spring  from  our  most  valued 
comforts. 

I  cannot  come  to  you :  therefore  you  must 


37d 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


[let.  vir.- 


conie  hither  speedily.     Be  sure  to  bring  Mr. 

B with  you.     I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see 

bim,  and  I  long  to  thank  him  for  clothing 
my  book.  It  looks  well  on  the  outside,  and 
I  hope  to  find  it  sound  and  savoury.  I  love 
the  author,  and  that  is  a  step  towards  liking 
the  book.  For  where  we  bve,  we  are  gene- 
rally tender,  and  lavourably  take  every  thing 
by  the  best  handle,  and  are  vastly  full  of  can- 
dour: but  if  we  are  prejudiced  against  the 
man,  the  poor  book  is  half  condemned  before 
we  open  it.  It  had  need  be  written  well,  for 
it  will  be  read  with  a  suspicious  eye,  as  if 
we  wished  to  find  treason  in  every  page.  I 
am  glad  I  diverted  and  profited  you  by  call- 
ing you  a  speckled  bird.  I  can  tell  you,  such 
a  bird  in  this  day,  that  wears  the  full  colour 
of  no  sect  or  party,  is  rara  avis ;  if  not  quite 
BO  scarce  as  the  phoenix,  yet  to  be  met  with 
but  here  and  there.  It  is  impossible  I  should 
be  all  of  a  colour,  when  I  have  been  a  debtor 
to  all  sorts;  and,  like  the  jay  in  the  fable, 
have  been  beholden  to  most  of  the  birds  in 
the  air  for  a  feather  or  two.  Church  and 
Meeting,  Methodist  and  Moravian,  may  all 
perceive  something  in  my  coat  taken  from 
them.  None  of  them  are  angry  with  me  for 
borrowing  from  them ;  but  then,  why  could 
not  I  be  content  with  their  colour,  without 
going  amongst  other  flecks  and  coveys,  to 
make  myself  such  a  motley  figure  ?  Let 
them  be  angry;  if  I  have  culled  the  best 
feathers  from  all,  then  surely  I  am  finer  than 
any. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VI. 

August  — ,  1778. 
DEAR  SIR, — If  the  Lord  affords  health,  if 
the  weather  be  tolerable,  if  no  unforeseen 
change  takes  place,  if  no  company  comes  in 
upon  me  to-night  (which  sometimes  unex- 
pectedly happens,) — with  these  provisos,  Mr. 
S and  I  have  engaged  to  travel  to 


LETTER  VII. 


on  Monday  next,  and  hope  to  be  with  you  by 
or  before  eleven  o'clock. 

In  such  a  precarious  world,  it  is  needful 
to  form  our  plans  at  two  days'  distance,  with 
precaution  and  exceptions,  James  iv.  13. 
However,  if  it  be  the  Lord's  will  to  bring  us 
together,  and  if  the  purposed  interview  be  for 
nis  glory  and  our  good,  then  I  am  sure  no- 
thing shall  prevent  it.  And  who  in  his  right 
wits  would  wish  either  to  visit  or  be  visited 
upon  any  other  terms  ?  O  !  if  we  could  but 
be  pleased  with  his  will,  we  might  be  pleased 
from  morning  to  night,  and  every  day  in  the 
year. 

Pray  for  a  blessing  upon  our  coming  toge- 
ther. It  would  be  a  pity  to  walk  ten  miles 
to  pick  straws,  or  to  come  with  our  empty 
vessels  upon  our  heads,  saying,  we  have  found 
no  water. — I  am,  &c. 


Octobfr  — ,  1778. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Your  letters  are  always- 
welcome  ;  the  last  doubly  so,  for  being  unex 
pected.  If  you  never  heard  before  of  a  line 
of  yours  being  useful,  I  will  tell  you  for  once, 
that  I  get  some  pleasure  and  instruction 
whenever  you  write  to  me.  And  I  see  not 
but  your  call  to  letter-writing  is  as  clear  as 
mine,  at  least  when  you  are  able  to  put  pen 
to  paper. 

I  must  say  something  to  your  queries  about 
2  Sam.  xiv.  I  do  not  approve  of  the  scho- 
lastic distinctions  about  inspiration,  which 
seem  to  have  a  tendency  to  explain  away  the 
authority  and  certainty  of  one  half  of  the 
Bible  at  least.  Though  the  penmen  of  the 
scriptures  were  ever  so  well  informed  of 
some  facts,  they  would,  as  you  observe,  need 
express,  full,  and  infallible  inspiration,  to 
teach  them  what  the  Lord  would  have  se- 
lected and  recorded  for  the  use  of  the  church, 
amongst  many  others  which  to  themselves 
might  appear  equally  important. 

However,  with  respect  to  historical  pass- 
ages, I  dare  not  pronounce  positively  that 
any  of  them  are,  even  in  the  literal  sense,  un- 
worthy of  the  wisdom  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
the  dignity  of  inspiration.  Some,  yea  many 
of  them,  have  often  appeared  trivial  to  me; 
but  I  check  the  thought,  and  charge  it  to  my 
own  ignorance  and  temerity.  It  must  have 
some  importance,  because  I  read  it  in  God's 
book.  On  the  other  hand,  though  I  will  not 
deny  that  they  all  may  have  a  spiritual  and 
mystical  sense  (for  I  am  no  more  qualified  to 
judge  of  the  deep  things  of  the  Spirit,  than 
to  tell  you  what  is  passing  this  morning  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea :)  yet  if,  with  my  pre- 
sent modicum  of  light,  I  should  undertake  to 
expound  many  passages  in  a  mystical  sense,  I 
fear  such  a  judge  as  you  would  think  my  in- 
terpretations fanciful,  and  not  well  supported. 
1  suppose  I  should  have  thought  the  Bible 
complete,  though  it  had  not  informed  nie  of 
the  death  of  Rebekah's  nurse,  or  where  she 
was  buried.  But  some  tell  me  that  Deborah 
is  the  law,  and  that  by  the  oak  I  am  to  un- 
derstand the  cross  of  Christ :  and  I  remem- 
ber to  have  heard  of  a  preacher  who  discover- 
ed a  type  of  Christ  crucified  in  Absalom  hang- 
ing by  the  hair  on  another  oak.  I  am  quite 
a  mole  when  compared  with  these  eagle-eyed' 
divines,  and  must  often  content  myself  with 
plodding  upon  the  lower  ground  of  accommo- 
datior.  and  allusion,  except  when  the  New- 
Testament  writers  assure  me  what  the  mind 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  was.  I  can  find  the  gospel 
with  more  confidence  in  the  history  of  Sarah 
and  Hagar,  than  in  that  of  Leah  and  Rachel ; 
though,  without  Paul's  help,  I  should  have- 
considered  them  both  as  family-squabbles,  re- 
corded chiefly  to  illustrate  the  general  truths 
that  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit  are  incident 


LIT.  VIII.] 


LETTKRS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


377 


to  the  best  mon,  in  tlm  most  liivoiirrd  KJtun- 
tions.  Ami  I  tlunk  tlu'n*  is  no  piirt  of  Old- 
Tcstamrnt  history  t'nuii  wliirh  I  i-ould  not 
(the  l.onl  lu'lpiiifx  mo) draw  observations  that 
inijjht  be  suitable  to  the  |)ulpit,  and  |)rolitable 
to  his  people :  k)  I  nHjjfht,  perha|)s,  from 
Livy  or  Tacitus.  Rut  tlien  with  the  Rible 
in  my  hands,  I  «ro  u|K)n  sure  grounds:  I  am 
certain  of  the  tacts  I  speak  tVom,  that  they 
really  did  happen.  1  may  likewise  depend 
upon  the  spriu^'-s  and  motives  of  actions,  and 
not  amuse  myself  and  my  liearers  witii 
speeches  which  were  never  spoken,  and  mo- 
tives which  were  never  thonn^ht  of,  till  the 
historian  rununajj^ed  his  pericranium  forsome- 
thmg-  to  embellish  his  work.  I  doubt  not 
but,  were  you  to  consider  Joab's  courtly 
conduct  only  in  a  literal  sense,  how  it  tallied 
•Nvith  David's  desire,  and  how  gravely  and 
graciously  he  granted  himself  a  favour  while 
he  professed  to  oblige  Joab:  I  say,  in  this 
view,  you  would  be  able  to  illustrate  many 
important  scriptural  doctrines,  and  to  show 
that  the  passage  is  important  to  those  who  are 
engaged  in  studying  the  anatomy  of  the  hu- 
man heart. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

October  27,  1778. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  have  been  witness 
to  a  great  and  important  revolution  this 
morning,  which  took  place  while  the  great- 
est part  of  the  world  was  asleep.  Like 
many  state  revolutions,  its  first  beginnings 
were  almost  undiscernible ;  but  the  progress, 
though  gradual,  was  steady,  and  the  event 
decisive.  A  while  ago  darkness  reigned. 
Had  a  man  then  dropped,  for  the  first  time, 
into  our  world,  he  might  have  thought  him- 
self banished  into  a  hopeless  dungeon.  How 
could  he  expect  light  to  rise  out  of  such  a 
state]  And  when  he  saw  the  first  glimmer- 
ing of  dawn  in  the  east,  how  could  lie  pro- 
mise himself  that  it  was  the  forerunner  of 
such  a  glorious  sun  as  has  since  arisen. 
With  what  w^onder  would  such  a  new  comer 
observe  the  bounds  of  his  view  enlarging,  and 
tlie  distinctness  of  objects  increasing  from  one 
minute  to  another;  and  how  well  content 
would  he  be  to  part  with  the  twinklings  of  the 
stars,  when  he  had  the  broad  day  all  around  him 
in  exchange  !  I  cannot  say  this  revolution  is 
extraordinary,  because  it  happens  every  morn- 
ing ;  but  surely  it  is  astonishing,  or  rather  it 
would  be  so,  if  man  was  not  astonishingly 
stupid. 

Such  strangers  once  were  we.  Darkness, 
gross  darkness,  covered  us.  How  confined 
were  our  views !  And  even  the  things  which 
were  within  our  reach  we  could  not  distin- 
guish. Little  did  we  then  think  what  a  glo- 
rious day  we  were  appointed  to  see ;  what  an 
unbounded  prospect  would  ere  long  open  be- 
3B 


fi)re  UM.  We  knew  not  that  there  wan  a  Sun 
of  righteoiisnesH,  and  that  he  would  dawn, 
and  rise,  and  shiiM,"  ufK)n  our  hearts.  And  an 
tin'  idea  of  what  we  .see  now  was  then  hidd'-n 
from  wti,  so  at  present  we  arc?  almost  e«|tially 
at  a  loss  how  to  form  any  conception  of  Iho 
stronger  light  and  brighter  prospectn  which 
we  wait  and  hope  for.  Comparatively  we  are 
in  the  dark  still :  at  the  most,  we  have  but  a 
dim  twilight,  and  .see  nothing  clearly;  but  it 
is  the  dawn  of  immortality,  and  a  sure  pre- 
sage and  earnest  of  glory. 

Tims,  at  times,  it  seems,  a  darkness  that 
may  be  felt  broods  over  your  natural  spirits; 
but  wiien  the  day-star  rises  upon  your  lieart, 
you  see  and  rejoice  in  his  light.  Vou  have- 
days  as  well  as  nights ;  and  after  a  few  more 
vicissitudes,  you  will  take  your  flight  to  the 
regions  of  everlasting  light,  where  your  sun 
will  go  down  no  more.  Happy  you,  and 
happy  I,  if  I  shall  meet  you  there,  as  1  trust 
I  shall.  How  shall  we  love,  and  sing,  and 
wonder  and  praise  the  Saviour's  name. 

Last  Sunday,  a  young  man  died  here  of 
extreme  old  age,  at  twenty-five.  He  laboured 
hard  to  ruin  a  good  constitution,  and  unhap- 
pily succeeded ;  yet  amused  himself  with  the 
hopes  of  recovery  almost  to  the  last.  We 
have  a  sad  knot  of  such  poor  creatures  in 
this  place,  who  labour  to  stifle  each  other's 
convictions,  and  to  ruin  themselves  and  as- 
sociates, soul  and  body.  How  industriously 
is  Satan  served  !  I  was  formerly  one  of  his 
most  active  under-tempters.  Not  content 
with  running  the  broad  way  myself,  I  was 
indefatigable  in  enticing  others ;  and  had  my 
influence  been  equal  to  my  wishes,  I  would 
have  carried  all  the  human  race  with  me. 
And,  doubtless,  some  have  perished,  to  whose 
destruction  I  was  greatly  instrumental,  by 
tempting  them  to  sin,  and  by  poisoning  and 
hardening  them  with  principles  of  infidelity ; 
and  yet  I  was  spared.  When  I  think  of  the 
most  with  whom  I  spent  my  unhappy  days 
of  ignorance,  I  am  ready  to  say,  I  only  am 
escaped  alive  to  tell  thee.  Surely  I  liave 
not  half  the  activity  and  zeal  in  the  service 
of  him  who  snatched  me  as  a  brand  out  of 
the  burning,  as  I  had  m  the  service  of  his 
enemy.  Then  the  whole  stream  of  my  en- 
deavours and  affections  went  one  way  ;  now 
my  best  desires  are  continually  crossed, 
counteracted,  and  spoiled,  by  the  sin  which 
dwelleth  in  me ;  then  the  tide  of  a  corrupt 
nature  bore  me  along,  now  I  have  to  strive 
and  swim  against  it.  The  Lord  cut  me 
short  of  opportunities,  and  placed  me  where 
I  could  do  but  little  mischief;  but  had  my 
abilities  and  occasions  been  equal  to  my 
heart,  I  should  have  been  a  Voltaire  and  a 
Tiberius  in  one  character,  a  monster  of  pro- 
faneness  and  licentiousness.  "  O  to  grace 
how  great  a  debtor!"  A  common  drunkard 
or  profligate  is  a  petty  sinner  to  what  I  was. 
I  had  the  ambition  of  a  Caesar  or  an  Alexan 


378 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


der,  and  wanted  to  rank  in  wickedness 
among"  the  foremost  of  the  human  race. 
When  you  have  read  this,  praise  the  Lord 
for  ills  mercy  to  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  pray 
that  I  may  have  grace  to  be  faithful. — But  I 
have  rambled.  I  meant  to  tell  you,  that  on 
Sunday  aflernoon  I  preached  from  Ezekiel 
xxxiii.  10,  11,  "Why  will  ye  die?"  &c.  I 
endeavoured  to  show  poor  sinners,  that  if 
they  died,  it  was  because  they  would,  and  if 
they  would  they  must.  I  was  much  affect- 
ed for  a  time :  I  could  hardly  speak  for  weep- 
ing, and  some  wept  with  me.  From  some, 
alas  !  I  can  no  more  draw  a  tear,  or  a  re- 
lenting thought,  than  from  a  mill-stone. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  IX. 

November  27,  1778. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — You  are  a  better  ex- 
positor of  scripture  than  of  my  speeches,  if 
you  really  inferred  from  my  last  that  I  think 
you  shall  die  soon.  I  cannot  say  positively 
you  will  not  die  soon,  because  life  at  all  times 
is  uncertain ;  however,  according  to  the 
doctrine  of  probabilities,  I  think,  and  always 
thought,  you  bid  fair  enough  to  outlive  me. 
The  gloomy  tinge  of  your  weak  spirits  led 
you  to  consider  yourself  much  worse  in  point 
of  health  than  you  appear  to  me  to  be. 

In  the  other  point  I  dare  be  more  positive, 
that  die  when  you  will,  you  will  die  in  the 
Lord.  Of  this  I  have  not  the  least  doubt; 
and  I  believe  you  doubt  of  it  less,  if  possible, 
than  I,  except  in  those  darker  moments  when 
the  atrabilious  humour  prevails. 

I  heartily  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
complaints;  but  I  see  you  in  safe  hands. 
The  Lord  loves  you,  and  will  take  care  of 
you.  He  who  raises  the  dead,  can  revive 
your  spirits  when  you  are  cast  down.  He 
who  sets  bounds  to  the  sea,  and  says, 
"  Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  further," 
can  limit  and  moderate  that  gloom  which 
sometimes  distresses  you.  He  knows  why 
he  permits  you  to  be  thus  exercised.  I  can- 
not assign  the  reasons,  but  I  am  sure  they  are 
worthy  of  his  wisdom  and  love,  and  that  you 
will  hereafter  see,  and  say,  He  has  done  all 
things  well.  If  I  was  as  wise  as  your  philo- 
sopher, I  might  say  a  great  deal  about  a  melan- 
choly complexion ;  but  I  love  not  to  puzzle 
myself  with  second  causes,  while  the  first 
cause  is  at  hand,  which  sufficiently  accounts 
for  every  phenomenon  in  a  believer's  ex- 
perience. Your  constitution,  your  situation, 
your  temper,  your  distemper,  all  that  is  either 
comforlable  or  painful  in  your  lot,  is  of  his 
appointment.  The  hairs  of  your  head  are 
all  numbered:  the  same  power  which  pro- 
duced the  planet  Jupiter  is  necessary  to  the 
production  of  a  single  hair,  nor  can  one  of 
them  fall  to  the  ground  without  his  notice, 


-.  [let.  X. 

any  more  than  the  stars  can  fall  from  their 
orbits.  In  providence,  no  less  than  in  crea- 
tion, he  is  Maximus  in  minimis.  Therefore 
fear  not;  only  believe.  Our  sea  may  some- 
times be  stormy,  but  we  have  an  infallible 
pilot,  and  shall  infallibly  gain  our  port. — I 
am,  &.C. 


LETTER  X. 

February  23,  1779. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — On  Saturday,  and  not 
before,  I  heard  you  had  been  ill.  Had  the 
news  reached  me  sooner,  I  should  have  sent 
you  a  line  sooner.  I  hope  you  will  be  able 
to  inform  me  that  you  are  now  better,  and 
that  the  Lord  continues  to  do  you  good  by 
every  dispensation  he  allots  you.  Healing' 
and  woundmg  are  equally  from  his  hand,  and 
equally  tokens  of  his  love  and  care  over  us. 
I  have  but  little  affliction  in  my  own  person, 
but  I  have  been  often  chastened  of  late  by 
proxy.  The  Lord,  for  his  people's  sake,  is 
still  pleased  to  give  me  health  and  strength 
for  public  service,  but  when  I  need  the  rod 

he  lays  it  upon  Mrs. .     In  this  way  I 

have  felt  much,  without  being  disabled  or 
laid  aside.  But  he  has  heard  prayer  for  her 
likewise,  and  for  more  than  a  fortnight  past 
she  has  been  comfortably  well.  I  lay  at  least 
one  half  of  her  sickness  to  my  own  account: 
she  suffers  for  me,  and  I  through  her.  It  is 
indeed  touching  me  in  a  tender  part.  Per- 
haps if  I  could  be  more  wise,  watchful,  and 
humble,  it  might  contribute  more  to  the  re- 
establishment  of  her  health  than  all  the  me- 
dicines she  takes. 

I  somehow  neglected  to  confer  with  you 
about  the  business  of  the  Fast-day.  The 
last  of  my  three  sermons,  when  I  had,  as  I  ex- 
pected, the  largest  congregation,  was  a  sort 
of  historical  discourse,  from  Deut.  xxxii.  15, 
in  which,  running  over  the  leading  national 
events  from  the  time  of  Wickliff",  I  endea- 
voured to  trace  the  steps  and  turns  by  which 
the  Lord  has  made  us  a  fat  and  thriving  peo- 
ple, and  in  the  event  blessed  us  beyond  his 
favourite  Jeshurun  of  old,  with  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty,  peace,  honour,  and  prosperity, 
and  gospel-privileges:  How  fat  we  were 
when  the  war  terminated  in  the  year  1763, 
and  how  we  have  kicked,  and  forsaken  the 
Rock  of  our  salvation  of  late  years.  Then 
followed  a  sketch  of  our  present  state  and 
spirit  as  a  people,  both  in  a  religious  and 
political  view.  I  started  at  the  picture  while 
I  drew  it,  though  it  was  a  very  inadequate 
representation.  We  seemed  willing  to  afflict 
our  souls,  for  one  day,  as  Dr.  Ix)wth  reads 
Isa.  Iviii.  5.  But  the  next  day,  things  re- 
turned into  their  former  channel :  the  fast 
and  the  occasion  seemed  presently  forgotten, 
except  by  a  few  simple  souls,  who  are  des- 
pised and  hated  by  the  rest  for  their  precise- 


Lwr.  XIII.] 


LKTTKRS  TO  THE  RKV.  MR.  B- 


379 


no^a,  horauHO  tlioy  think  bin  ounfht  to  be 
lamented  evt'ry  tliiy  in  llii?  year. 

Wilt)  would  riivy  (Vssiuulra  lior  pifl  of 
prophery  ii|H)n  the  tcriUH  sho  luid  it,  tlint  hor 
dechinitioiKs  l»*'Wover  triio,  hlu)uld  moot  with 
no  boliot'  or  ro;^rjird  !  It  in  tho  lot  ot'  «ro.cp(d- 
ininistors,  with  rospoct  to  tho  hulk  ot*  tlu'ir 
hoiirors.  But  blos«od  bo  tho  fjraco  which 
nuikos  a  tow  oxooptioiis.  I  lore  and  thoro 
ono  will  hour,  boliovo,  and  l)o  saved.  Every 
onoot' those  is  worth  a  world,  and  our  suco(>ss 
with  a  tow  should  console  us  tor  all  our  trials. 

Come  and  see  us  as  soon  as  yt)u  can,  oidy 

not  to-morrow,  tor  I  am  then  to  ijo  toT . 

My  Ijord,  the  great  Shepherd,  has  one  sheep 
tliere,  related  to  the  fold  under  my  care.  I 
can  seldom  sec  iier,  and  she  is  very  ill.  I 
expect  she  will  be  soon  removed  to  the  pas- 
ture above.     Our  love   to   Mrs.    B .  — 

Believe  rae  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XI. 

April  23,  1779. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — May  I  Rot  Style  myself 
a  friend,  when  I  remember  you  after  an  in- 
terval of  several  weeks  since  I  saw  you,  and 
throuo-h  a  distance  of  threescore  miles'?  But 
the  truth  is,  you  have  been  neither  absent  nor 
distant  trom  my  heart  a  day.  Your  idea  has 
travelled  with  me :  you  are  a  kind  of  familiar, 
very  often  before  the  eye  of  my  mind.  This,  I 
hope,  may  be  admitted  as  a  proof  of  friendship. 

I  know  the  Lord  loves  you,  and  you  know 
it  likewise :  every  affliction  affords  you  a  fresh 
proof  of  it.  How  wise  his  management  in 
our  trials !  IIow  wisely  adjusted  in  season, 
weight,  and  continuance,  to  answer  his  gra- 
cious purposes  in  sending  them !  How  un- 
speakably better  to  be  at  his  disposal  than  at 
our  own !  So  you  say,  so  you  think,  so  you 
find.  Vou  trust  in  him,  and  shall  not  be  dis- 
appointed. Help  me  with  your  prayers,  that 
I  may  trust  him  too,  and  be  at  length  enabled 
to  say  without  reserve,  What  thou  wilt,  when 
thou  wilt,  how  thou  wilt.  I  had  rather  speak 
these  three  sentences  from  my  heart,  in  my 
mother-tongue,  than  be  master  of  all  the  lan- 
guages in  Europe. — I  am  yours,  &.c. 


LETTER  Xn. 

August  19,  1779. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Among  the  rest  of 
temporal  mercies,  I  would  be  thankful  for  pen, 
ink,  and  paper,  and  the  convenience  of  the 
post,  by  which  means  we  can  waft  a  thought 
to  a  friend  when  we  cannot  get  at  him.  My 
will  has  been  good  to  see  you,  but  you  must 
accept  the  will  for  the  deed.  The  Lord  has 
not  permitted  me. 

I  have  been  troubled  of  late  with  the  rheu- 
matism in  my  left  arm.     Mine  is  a  sinful, 


vile  l)ody,  nnd  it  iit  a  mercy  that  nny  part  (.( 
it  iH  froo  from  pain.  It  Ih  virtually  the  Moat 
and  suhjoot  of  all  di.*4oaKoH;  but  tho  I»rd 
holds  thorn  like  wild  heastH  in  a  chain,  under 
a  strong  restraint:  were  that  rostraitit  taken 
oir,  tlioy  would  rush  upon  thoir  proy  from 
every  (juarter,  and  wi/.o  u|Kin  every  limb, 
memlxT,  joint,  and  nerve,  at  once.  Yet, 
though  I  am  a  sinner,  and  thougli  my  wholo 
toxtun;  is  so  frail  and  cxi)osod,  I  have  en- 
joyed for  a  number  of  years  an  almost  perfect 
o.\omj)tion  both  from  jmin  aivi  sickness.  'J'hia 
is  wonderful  indeed,  (ncn  in  my  own  eye.**. 

But  my  soul  is  far  from  heinjj  in  a  healthy 
state.  'J'here  I  have  laboured,  and  still  la- 
bour, under  a  complication  of  di.seases;  and, 
but  for  the  care  and  skill  of  an  infallible 
Physician,  I  must  have  died  the  death  lon^ 
ago.  At  this  very  moment  my  soul  is  feverish, 
dropsical,  paralytic.  I  feel  a  loss  of  appetite, 
a  disinclination  both  to  food  and  to  medicine; 
so  that  I  am  alive  by  miracle:  yet  I  trust  1 
shall  not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works 
of  the  Lord.  When  I  faint,  he  revives  me 
again.  I  am  sure  he  is  able,  and  I  trust  he 
has  promised  to  heal  me:  but  how  inveterate 
must  my  disease  be,  that  is  not  yet  subdued, 
even  under  his  management! 

Well,  my  friend,  there  is  a  land  where  the 
inhabitants  shall  no  more  say,  I  am  sick. 
Then  my  eyes  will  not  be  dim,  nor  my  ear 
heavy,  nor  my  heart  hard. 

One  si^ht  of  Jesus  as  he  is 
Will  strike  all  sin  for  ever  dead. 

Blessed  be  his  name  for  this  glorious  hope ! 
May  it  cheer  us  under  all  our  present  uneasy 
feelings,  and  reconcile  us  to  every  cross. 
The  way  must  be  right,  however  rough,  that 
leads  to  such  a  glorious  end. 

O  for  more  of  that  gracious  influence, 
which  in  a  moment  can  make  the  wilderness- 
soul  rejoice  and  blossom  like  the  rose !  I 
want  something'  which  neither  critics  nor 
commentators  can  help  me  to.  The  scripture 
itself,  whether  I  read  it  in  Hebrew,  Greek, 
French,  or  English,  is  a  sealed  book  in  all 
these  languages,  unless  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
is  present  to  expound  and  apply.  Pray  for 
me.  No  prayer  seems  more  suitable  to  me 
than  that  of  the  psalmist :  "  Bring  my  soul 
out  of  prison,  that  I  may  praise  thy  name." — 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  Xin. 

August  28,  1779. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  want  to  hear  how 
you  are.  I  hope  your  complaint  is  not  worse 
than  when  I  saw  you.  I  hope  you  are  easier, 
and  will  soon  find  yourself  able  to  move  about 
again.  I  should  be  sorry,  if  to  the  symptoms 
oif  the  stone  you  should  have  the  gout  super- 
added in  your  right  hand,  for  then  you  would 
not  be  able  to  write  to  me. 


S80 


LETTERS  TO  THE  REV.  MR.  B- 


We  ^o  on  much  as  usual,  sometimes  very 
poorly,  sometimes  a  little  better:  the  latter 
is  the  case  to-day.  My  rheumatism  continues, 
but  it  is  very  moderate  and  tolerable.  The 
Lord  deals  pently  with  us,  and  g-ives  us  many 
proofs  that  he  does  not  afflict  willingly. 

The  days  speed  away  apace:  each  one 
bears  away  its  own  burden  with  it,  to  return 
no  more.  Botli  pleasures  and  pains  that  are 
past  are  gone  for  ever.  What  is  yet  future 
will  likewise  be  soon  past.  The  end  is  com- 
ing. O,  to  realize  the  thought,  and  to  judge 
of  things  now  in  some  measure  suitable  to 
the  judgment  we  shall  form  of  them  when  we 
are  about  to  leave  them  all !  Many  things 
which  now  either  elate  or  depress  us,  will 
then  appear  to  be  trifles  light  as  air. 

One  thing  is  needful :  to  have  our  hearts 
united  to  the  Lord  in  humble  faith  ;  to  set 
him  always  before  us ;  to  rejoice  in  him  as 
our  shepherd  and  our  portion ;  to  submit  to 
all  his  appointments,  not  of  necessity,  because 
he  is  stronger  than  we,  but  with  a  cheerful 
acquiescence,  because  he  is  wise  and  good, 
and  loves  us  better  than  we  do  ourselves;  to 
feed  upon  his  truth;  to  have  our  understand- 
ings, wills,  affections,  imaginations,  and  me- 
mory, all  filled  and  impressed  with  the  great 
mysteries  of  redeeming  love ;  to  do  all  for 
him,  to  receive  all  from  him,  to  find  all  in  him. 
I  have  mentioned  many  things,  but  they  are 
all  comprised  in  one,  a  life  of  faith  in  the  Son 
of  God.  We  are  empty  vessels  in  ourselves, 
but  we  cannot  remain  empty.  Except  Jesus 
dwells  in  our  hearts,  and  fills  them  with  his 
power  and  presence,  they  will  be  filled  with 
folly,  vanity,  and  vexation. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XIV. 

Oct.  26,  1779. 

MY    DEAR   FRIEND, — Being    tO    gO   OUt   of 

town  to-day,  I  started  up  before  light  to  write 


-.  [let.  XIV. 

to  you,  and  hoped  to  have  sent  you  a  long 
letter ;  when,  behold  !  I  could  not  get  at  any 
paper.     I  am  now  waiting  for  a  peep  at  Mr. 

B at  his  lodgings,  who  came  to  town 

last  night;  and  I  shall  write  as  fast  as  1  can 
till  I  see  him. 

I  feel  for  you  a  little  in  the  same  way  as 
you  feel  for  yourself.  I  bear  a  friendly  sym- 
pathy in  your  late  sharp  and  sudden  trial.  I 
mourn  with  that  part  of  you  which  mourns ; 
but  at  the  same  time  I  rejoice  in  the  proof 
you  have,  and  which  you  give,  that  the  Lord 
is  with  you  of  a  truth.  I  rejoice  on  your  ac- 
count, to  see  you  supported  and  comforted, 
and  enabled  to  say.  He  has  done  all  things 
well,  I  rejoice  on  my  own  account.  Such 
instancesof  his  faithfulness  and  all-sufficiency 
are  very  encouraging.  W^e  must  all  expect 
hours  of  trouble  in  our  turn.  We  must  all 
feel  in  our  concernments  the  vanity  and  un- 
certainty of  creature-comforts.  What  a  mer- 
cy it  is  to  know  from  our  own  past  experience, 
and  to  have  it  confirmed  to  us  by  the  expe- 
rience of  others,  that  the  Lord  is  good,  a 
stronghold  in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  that 
he  knoweth  them  that  trust  in  him.  Crea- 
tures are  like  candles,  they  waste  while  they 
afford  us  a  little  light,  and  we  see  them  ex- 
tinguished in  their  sockets  one  afler  another. 
But  the  light  of  the  sun  makes  amends  for 
them  all.  The  Lord  is  so  rich  that  he  ea- 
sily can,  so  good  that  he  certainly  will  give 
his  children  more  than  he  ever  will  take  away. 
When  his  gracious  voice  reaches  the  heart.  It 
is- 1,  be  not  afraid;  be  still,  and  know  that  I 
am  God  ;  when  he  gives  us  an  impression  of 
his  wisdom,  power,  love,  and  care,  then  the 
storm  which  attempts  to  rise  in  our  natural 
passions  is  hushed  into  a  calm ;  the  flesh  con* 
tinues  to  feel,  but  the  spirit  is  made  willing. 
And  something  more  than  submission  takes 
place, — a  sweet  resignation  and  acquies- 
cence, and  even  a  joy  that  we  have  any  thing" 
which  we  value,  to  surrender  to  hisi  call. — 
I  am  yours,  &.c. 


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a  practical  man  in  the  various  departments  of  Christian  labour — we  are  much  deceived  if  he  has  his 
superior,  or  in  all  these  respects  his  equal,  amonor  the  Divines  of  the  present  aire,  and  of  any  country. 
Of  his  fame  as  a  preacher,  no  man  need  speak.  Of  his  skill  in  dividing  the  truth  of  Gixl,  and  of  hia 
power  in  enforcing  it,  all  men  are  convinced.  Of  his  metaphysical  acumen,  and  adroitness  in  do- 
fending  the  truth  against  "  many  .adversaries,"  his  published  works  furnish  the  most  ample  evidence. 
He  is  the  champion  of  the  Lord's  hosts,  boldly  going  forth  with  the  sling  and  the  stone,  to  meet  the 
Goliath  of  the  uncircumcised." — Boston  Recorder. 

SUDDARD'S  BRITISH  PULPIT;  containing  Di.=!courses  by  the  most  eminent  Liv- 
ing Divines,  in  England,  Scotland  and  Ireland,  5th  edition,  2"vols.  Svo.  10  portriats, 

"This  splendid  work  consists  of  two  volume-s,  each  numberintr  more  than  500  pages,  handsomely 
bound  ;  each  volume  ornamented  with  portraits  of  five  of  the  most  distinrfuished  divines  wht)se  ser- 
mons are  here  published.  Each  volume  contains  about  sixty  sermons,  only  one  from  the  same 
person.  They  take  the  ranrre  of  evanrrclical  denominations,  the  Episcopal  and  Congreirational 
heinu  the  most  numerous.  Although  the  author  of  the  selection  does  not  profess  to  be  resf^onsinle 
for  all  the  sentiments  cxpress'-d  in  them,  they  all  come  from  men  noted  for  their  practical  nrodlinf  ». 
The  theological  student  and  the  settled  pastor,  will  alike  find  profitable  and  pleasin;:  orcuoatioi  i 
«tudying  them,  as  they  constitute  a  rich  mine  of  ministerial  eloquence  and  Christian  sentimecl '  ^ 
Baptist  Advocate. 

(') 


CARTER'S    PUBLICATIONS 


THE  COMPLETE  WORKS  OF  BISHOP  BUTLER,  containing  Analogy  of 
Natural  aiul  Revealed  Region,  Dissertations,  Sermons,  Correspondence  with  Dr. 
Clarke,  &c.  &c.  To  which  is  prefixed,  an  Account  of  the  Character  and  Wrilingb 
of  the  Author.  By  Dr.  Halifax,  Bishop  of  Gloucester.  1  vol.  8vo.  Splendid  edi- 
tion on  pica  type  and  fine  paper, 

"We  think  the  religious  public  must  welcome  with  gratitude  the  appearance  of  this  volume,  con- 
taining the  writings  of  so  distinguished  a  logician  and  divine.  The  Analogy  of  Butler  enjoyp  a 
reputation  scarcely  second  to  any  other  book  than  the  Bible :  to  praise  it  would  be  a  work  of  super- 
erogation. As  a  specimen  of  analogical  reasoning,  we  suppose  it  has  never  been  equalled  ;  and  its 
influence,  in  promoting  ministerial  efficiency,  can  hardly  be  over-rated.  Some  ministers  are  in  the 
habit  of  reading  it,  carefully,  once  every  year.  The  Analogy  occupies  about  one  half  the  volume; 
the  remainder  consists  of  Dissertations  and  Sermons  on  im.portant  subjects,  and  may  be  read  with 
pleasure  and  profit.  The  volume  contains  more  than  GOO  pages,  and  is  furnished  at  a  very  low 
price." — N':w  England  Puritan. 

BUTLER'S  ANALOGY.    Beautiful  large  type.     1  vol.  8vo. 

BUTLER'S  SERMONS.     1  vol.  8vo. 

JAY'S  MORNING  EXERCISES  FOR  THE  CLOSET,  for  Every  Day  in  the 
Year.    New  edition,  2  vols,  in  one,  12mo. 

JAY'S  EVENING  EXERCISES  FOR  THE  CLOSET,  for  Every  Day  in  the 
Year.    New  edition,  2  vols,  in  one,  12mo.,  bound  uniform  with  the  Morning  Exercises. 

"  Rich  with  instruction,  vivacious,  simple,  and  elegant  in  style;  brief,  lucid,  and  scriptural  in  dis- 
cussion ;  and  always  flowing  with  an  unction  from  the  heart  of  the  pious  author;  this  book  is 
probably,  doing  more  to  fan  the  flame  of  devotion,  than  any  other  human  composition  in  our  language. 
A  few  minutes,  morning  and  evening,  spent  in  reading  the  exercises  belonging  to  the  day,  would, 
imperceptibly  furnish  the  reader  with  many  important  ideas,  many  delightful  comparisons  of  scrip, 
ture,  and  above  all,  if  he  be  a  man  of  spiritual  reUsh,  with  many  of  the  precious  consolations  cf 
religion." — Presbyterian  Advocate. 

WORKS  BY  THE  REV.  JOHN  A.  CLARKE,  D.D., 

Late  Rector  of  St.  Andrews,  Philadelphia. 
I. 

A  WALK  ABOUT  ZION.    Revised  ani  Enlarged.    Fifth  edition ;  12mo.  2  steff, 

engravings. 

"  The  splrll  of  the  book  is  above  all  price.  It  is  that  charity  which  envieth  not,  vaunteth  no4 
Itself,  is  not  pufled  up.  No  intelligent  man  will  be  disposed  to  deny  that  the  arrogant  princ.ole  of 
Puseyism  has  extensively  infected  the  Episcopal  Church  in  Great  Britain  and  this  country.  W  hen, 
therefore,  we  find  a  writer  of  that  communion  who  is  not  in  the  least  affected  by  it,  but  who  uiters 
in  Christian  meekness  and  simplicity,  sentiments  becoming  the  liberal  philosopher  and  the  humble 
minded  believer  in  Jesus,  our  heart  yearns  the  more  towards  him  on  account  of  the  strong  adverse 
influence,  which,  we  know,  he  is  obliged  constantly  to  resist." — Baptist  Advocate. 

II. 
THE  PASTOR'S  TESTIMONY     Fifth  edition;  12mo.     Revised  and  corrected ; 

2  steel  engravings. 

"  We  admire  the  spirit  and  sentiments  of  the  author  on  all  practical  points  of  religion." — Presby- 
terian. 

"  I\Ir.  Clarke  is  an  eminently  evangelical  writer  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  and  his  pro 
ductions  have  been  extensively  read  by  other  denominations." — New  York  Observer. 

III. 
THE  YOUNG  DISCIPLE  ;    or  a  Memoir  of  Anggonetta  R.  Peters.     Fourth  edi 

tion  12mo. 

"  Dr.  Clarke  has  for  some  time  been  known  to  the  religious  public,  as  one  of  the  most  judiciouf 
and  excellent  writers  of  the  day.  His  works  are  all  characterized  by  good  thoughts  expressed  in  » 
graceful  and  appropriate  manner,  by  great  seriousness  and  unction,  and  an  earnest  desire  to  promott 
the  spiritual  interests  of  his  fellow  men." — Albany  Daily  Advertiser. 

IV. 
GATHERED  FRAGMENTS.    Fourth  edition  ;    12  mo.    2  steel  engravings. 

CoNTAJMNG.— The  IM'Ellen  Family— The  Paralytic— The  Withered  Branch  Revived  -Th« 
Baptism.— Little  Ann.— The  Meeting  of  the  Travellers.- J.Iary  Maywood.— A  Family  in  Eterwi*? 
— One  whose  Record  is  on  High,  &c.,  &c. 

V. 
GLEANINGS  BY  THE  WAY ;  or  Travels  in  the  Country.    .1  vol.  12mo 
(2) 


CARTER'S    PUBLICATIONS 


MEMOIR  OP  TIIR  REV.  CHARI^ER  NISRET,  D.D,  lute  PrcHulent  of  Uick 
ensoii  ColleiTO,  (.^irlisle.  Ry  ISuiiuu'l  MiII«t,  I). I).,  IVol'ttuHor  in  llic  ThcoIo;^icai 
Seminary,  Princeton,  New  Jersey.     1  vol.  12nio.,  willi  Portrait. 

"  We  have  bvvn  much  ijratificd  at  the  app<arnncc  of  this  work.     It  forms  a  moHt  valuable  aihlilion 

to  the  Prt'sltvtfriaii  nitirriaptiy  of  our  country.  Dr.  Nislut,  (Ii.stifi2ui.-.l»('(l  alike  hy  hin  own  [xTHonaJ 
accjuirements  in  hlerature,  and  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  sound  h'arnin>i,  was  d«'MTvini»  ofu  |a«l- 
in>^  reincinbr.ince ;  anil  yet  I'evv  had  the  opportunity  ol'knowin^  nuuh  of"his  true  character  and  ser- 
vices, until  the  appearance  ot"  this  intereslin<T  nuNuoir.  The  fidelity  an<l  excellence  wiili  wluch  the 
work  is  executed,  may  be  concluded  lro;u  the  name  of  the  biographer." — PrcsfjyLcrian. 

MEMOIR  OF  THE  REV.  TIENRY  MARTYN,  Chaplain  to  the  Honourable 
East  Imiia  Company.  By  the  Rev.  John  Sargent,  M.  A.  Fourth  American  from 
the  Tenth  London  Edition.     1  vol.  12mo. 

"Most  bioLrraphical  works  have  their  brief  day  of  popularity  and  usefulness,  and  then  give  plac« 
to  others,  which  in  their  turn,  also  gradually  pass  into  disusi;  and  forgetfulness.  Not  so  with  the 
biography  of  Henry  JMartyn.  Though  his  life  was  scarcely  protracted  beyond  the  period  of  youth, 
yet  he  lived  jiiuch  in  a  little  time,  and  his  name  stands  ibrth  as  among  the  brightest  stars  of  the 
generatii)n  to  which  he  belongs.  His  wonderful  powers  of  acquiring  knowledge,  united  with  his 
fervent  |)iety,  and  earnest  zeal,  and  self-sacrilicing  spirit,  in  the  cause  of  his  master,  has  given  his 
character  an  interest  which  will  not  be  likely  to  grow  less  with  the  lapse  of  ages." — Eoe.  JournaL 

ESSAYS  ON  EPISCOPACY,  AND  THE  APOLOGY  FOR  APOSTOLIC 
ORDER  REVIEWED,  By  the  late  John  M.  Mason,  D.D.  Edited  by  the  Rev. 
Ebenezer  Mason,  1  vol.  12mo. 

"A  most  timely  republication.  In  the  hands  of  an  intellectual  giant  like  Dr.  Mason,  the  mon- 
strous deformities  of  high  church  episcopacy  and  its  pigmy  advocates  were  crushed  and  held  up  to 
public  contempt,  apparently  without  eflbrt.  The  sarcasm  with  which  the  assumption  of  exclusive 
Christianity  is  treated,  is  perfectly  withering,  and  yet  it  is  dealt  with  so  much  decorum  that  the 
guilty  sutlerer  is  left  no  room  to  complain  of  unfairness  or  agirravation.  The  argument  is  strong, 
and,  we  hesitate  not  to  say,  unanswerable.  Whoever  then  wishes  to  see  the  scantiness  of  ground 
on  which  high  churchism  is  built,  may  satisfy  himself  by  reading  this  book." — Bap'Ast  Advocate. 

ESSAYS  ON  THE  CHURCH  OF  GOD.  By  the  late  John  M.  Mason,  D.D. 
Eilited  by  the  Rev.  Ebenezer  Mason,  1  vol.  12mo. 

"  This  work  is  the  production  of  one  of  the  most  splendid  minds  which  any  age  can  boast.  We 
doubt  not,  that  it  will  live  through  many  generations,  and  will  convey  to  posterity  one  of  the  most 
luminous  and  scpptural  views  of  the  church  of  God,  w  iih  which  the  church  has  ever  been  favoured." 
— Dii'dii  Aincncmi  Citizen. 

'•  They  are  learned  and  lively,  sometimes  severe,  and  always  entertaining,  the  reasoning  cogent 
and  simple,  and  the  style  that  of  the  eloquent  man  whose  name  is  still  held  by  many  in  aflectionate 
remembrance." — N.  Y.  Observer. 

THE  INQUIRER  DIRECTED  to  an  Experimental  and  Practical  View  of  the 
Work  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     By  Rev.  Oclavius  Winslow.     1  vol.  12mo. 

"This  is  a  delightful  book  ; — modest  and  unpretending,  but  embucd  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel. 
The  author  commences,  as  he  should  do,  with  a  conclusive  scriptural  proof  of  the  divinity  and  per- 
sonality of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  then  passes  on  to  '  an  experimental  and  practical  view'  of  the  work 
of  the  Spirit  as  a  quickener.  This  subject  he  presents  in  two  divisions;  first,  the  state  of  the  heart, 
the  influence  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  evidences  ol'  his  operations,  before  and  in  the  act  oi  regeneration ; 
and  second,  the  same  class  of  topics,  in  their  application  to  thp  .soul  after  conversion.  The  next 
chapter  is  on  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit;  the  believer  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  remaining 
subjects  are: — The  Sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  showing  the  necessity  and  nature  of  true  holiness, 
— the  sealing  of  the  Spirit, — the  Spirit  the  author  of  prayer, — and  the  Spirit  a  comforter,— the  bro- 
ken heart  bound  up.  The  address  is  aflectionate  and  winning,  yet  closely  pranti'-al.  It  strongly 
remintls  one  of  the  manner  o^  Ftavcl  and  Doddri/lge,  and  others  of  the  oUlcn  lime.  The  discrimi- 
nations of  character  are  close  and  happy:  and  the  whole  book  evinces  a  deep  tnowleuge  o\'  the 
heart,  and  a  familiar,  practical,  and  divuiely  illumined  acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures." — bd'iicui 
Repertory  cf-  Prniceton  Review. 

THE  LIFE,  WALK  AND  TRIUMPH  OF  FAITH.  By  the  Rev.  W.  Ro- 
maine,  A.M.     I2mo.  New  edition.  Muslin. 

"  Many  a  good  old  believer  will  have  his  heart  cheered  and  his  soul  comforted  by  the  republica- 
tion of  this  book. — The  truth  drops  from  his  pen  like  manna.  His  conceptions  are  remarkably  clear, 
and  his  style  simple  and  scriptural.  His  own  life  by  faith  enabled  hiin  to  write  so  well  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  others." — Bopiisi  Advocate. 

"  Here  are  three  distinct  treatises  on  the  same  general  subject,  to  which  evangelical  Christians  of 
every  denDmination,  during  nearly  three-quarters  of  a  century,  have  united  in  awardinir  the  highest 

(3) 


CARTER'S    PUBLICATIONS. 


praise.  V'liey  indicate  not  only  a  most  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Bible,  but  a  rare  knowledge 
of  the  wofkiii<rs  of  the  liuinun  heart,  and  are  at  once  full  of  instruction,  admonition  and  consolation. 
The  most  advanced  Christian  cannot  fail  lo  read  them  with  profit,  and  the  young  Christian  will  find 
them  amon<j  the  safest  guides  and  best  helps  in  the  religious  life^  which  are  to  be  found  any  where 
out  of  tlie  Bible." — Albany  Datly  Advertiser. 

THR  GRACE  AND  DUTY  OF  BEING  SPIRITUALLY  MINDED,  Declared 
and  Practically  Improved.     By  John  Owen,  D.D.     12mo. 

"  The  name  of  Dr.  Owen  is  peculiarly  welcome  at  all  times,  and  especially  on  such  a  theme,  \\> 
need  do  nothing  more  than  call  the  attention  to  the  title  page.  Those  who  are  famiUar  with  (he 
writings  of  this  venerable  Father,  know  that  this  is  among  the  richest  of  his  works." — New  York 
Evangelist. 

MOFFATT'S  SOUTHERN  AFRICA.  Missionary  Labours  and  Scenes  in 
Southern  Africa.  By  Robert  Moffatt,  twenty-three  years  an  Agent  of  the  London 
Missionary  Society  in  that  continent      1  vol.  12mo. 

"We  have  read  the  whole  of  this  large  volume  with  undiminished  interest,  and  have  found  it  re- 
plete with  missionary  information,  given  in  an  unpretending,  but  strong  and  clear  style.  The 
wretched  state  of  the  heathen  tribes,  among  whom  the  writer  so  long  laboured  as  a  njissionary; 
their  deep  degradation  and  ignorance;  the  trials  of  faith  and  patience,  of  the  missionary  brethren; 
and  after  years  of  apparently  useless  labour,  and  when  the  churches  at  home  seemed  ready  to  aban- 
don the  whole  field,  the  displays  of  the  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  by  his  blessing  upon  the  labours 
of  his  .servants,  are  all  recorded  by  an  eye-witness,  who  bore  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  and 
who  lived  to  rejoice  in  seeing  the  triumphs  of  the  Gospel,  among  the  most  ignorant  and  degraded 
of  the  human  family.  The  narrative  is  enriched  also  with  descriptions  of  African  scenery ;  with  the 
employment,  habits,  and  pursuits  of  the  native  tribes;  their  dangers  from  lions  and  other  beasts  of 
prey,  and  the  wars  anti  massacres  of  the  roving  bands  of  marauders,  in  their  desolating  excursions 
from  pJace  to  place." — Foreign  Missionary. 

INTERESTING  NARRATIVES  from  the  Sacred  Volume.  Illustrated  and  im- 
proved, by  the  Rev.  Joseph  Belcher. 

CoNTKNTs. — The  Solemn  Inquiry. — First  I\Iurder. — Deluge. — Servant  Expelled. — Affectionate 
Father  Sacrificing  his  Son. — Affecting  Funeral. — Patriarchal  Wedding. — Dutiful  Son. — Affection- 
ate Brother. — Faithful  Steward. — Pious  Prisoner. — Righteous  Governor. — Mistaken  Saint — Dying 
Patriarch. — FoundHng. — Wise  Choice. — Blasphemer  Stoned. — Serpents. — Hypocritical  Prophet. — 
Enemy  Discovered. — Affectionate  Daughter-in-Law. — Happy  Gleaner. 

LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  REV.  JOSEPH  ALLEINE,  A.B.,  author  of  an  "Alarm 
to  the  Unconverted,"  &c.  Written  by  the  Rev.  Richard  Baxter,  his  widow,  Mrs. 
Theodosia  Alleine,  and  other  persons.  To  which  are  added  his  Christian  Lectures, 
full  of  Spiritual  Instruction,  tending  to  the  promoting  of  the  Power  of  Godliness 
both  in  Persons  and  Families.  With  a  recommendatory  Preface  by  Alexander 
Duff,  D.D.,  one  of  the  Church  of  Scotland's  Missionaries  to  India.     1  vol.  12mo. 

REMAINS  OF  THE  REV.  RICHARD  CECIL,  M.A.  Late  Rector  of  Bisley 
and  Vicar  of  Chobbam,  Surrey,  and  Minister  of  St.  John's  Chapel,  Bedford  Row^ 
London.  To  which  is  prefixed  a  View  of  his  character.  By  Joseph  Pratt,  B.  D. 
F.A.S.     From  the  eleventh  London  Edition,  1  vol.  12mo. 

"We  often  meet  with  men  distinguished  for  certain  characteristics  or  acquireme^its.  One  has  an 
elegant,  classical  mind,  but  is  destitute  of  original  genius  ;  another  with  imposing  abilities,  is  rough 
and  unpolished.  Some  uniting  polish  with  native  superiority  are  destitute  of  the  grace  of  godliness, 
and  others  excelling  in  piety  and  good  works,  unavoidably  offend  a  refined  taste  by  some  vulgarity  of 
thought,  expression,  or  action.  But  in  Richard  Cecil  we  see  a  man  combining  the  rich  soil  of  strong 
native  talent  with  a  refinement  of  cultivation  not  surpassed  by  classic  example ;  while  in  him  the 
elegant  and  profound  scholar,  and  polished  gentleman  are  only  the  subordinate  characters  of  the 
humble  minded,  devoted,  and  enterprising  follower  of  the  lowly  Jesus." — Buptist  Advocate. 

CHRIST  OUR  LAW.  By  Miss  Caroline  Fry.  Author  of  "The  Listener," 
"  Christ  Our  Example,"  &c.     1  vol.  12mo.     Second  edition. 

"  The  book  before  ns  consists  of  twelve  chapters,  comprised  within  about  270  pages.  It  exhibits 
Christ  as  our  Law  in  His  Sovereign  Love,  His  Incarnation  and  Substitution,  His  Justifying  Right- 
eousness, Our  Responsibility  to  Him,  His  Regenerating  Spirit,  In  Saving  Faith,  The  Obedience  of 
Faith,  Repentance  unto  Life,  His  Sanctifying  Grace,  His  Holy  Ordinances,  and  our  Union  and 
Communion  with  Him.  We  are  speaking  of  no  secondary  class  of  publications  when  we  distin- 
guish this  book  as  the  best  of  all  that  Miss  Fry  has  ever  written.  Her  pen  has  unusual  vigour. 
I^er  thoucjhts  are  strong,  and  by  no  means  enfeebled  in  the  expression.  Her  theology  is  evangel- 
ical and  profound,  entering  into  the  marrow  of  the  gospel,  and  strengthening  the  believiiig  rezder 
vu  the  faith  as  once  deUvered  to  the  saints." — Baptist  Advocate. 
(4) 


1  ■,       .  1. 


I 


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